Love you haiku 18 February

A piece where I mention turkey wattle in an inappropriate way

As a balance to the inevitable  avalanche of love and tenderness spewing into your WordPress feed this week I bring you these.

 

Heart beating, mouth dry

knotted stomach, hands trembling

Love?  Food poisoning?

Love you haiku 17 February

A piece where I mention turkey wattle in an inappropriate way

As a balance to the inevitable  avalanche of love and tenderness spewing into your WordPress feed this week I bring you these.

 

 

Tender caresses

Kisses planted in the dark

Grunts, rolls over, snores

Thistles and Thorns

The things that hold us back…

Let’s do another month of M’s prompts shall we.


I’ve a tale I would tell, and it might do you well

To pay heed and perhaps give some thought

To the things that constrain and the things that we blame

And on which were eternally caught

 

They’re the things in our heads, that live under our beds

And that lurk when we wake late at night

Paralysed by the doubt and the voices that shout

they defeat when we just cannot fight

 

Or you think you’re no good and that one day you could

be redeemed if you just do not stray

so you live only just and you hope pray and trust

that divine you’ll be carried away

 

so we stop in our tracks and we always look back

never trying to push on ahead

and were tangled in thorns and our minds they get torn

cant make sense of the thoughts in our heads

 

and you’re lying there scared and your wholly ensnared

to the things you believe are the truth

now perhaps they are not but you’ve sadly forgot

how to look for a sign or some proof

 

Unencumbered you’d find that the world can be kind

and there’s joy to be found and much more

we can live, love and learn and eternity spurn

for there’s hope here and now, life galore

George and Alice

The old clock in the hall struck seven as George sat down at his writing table as he did every night.

Let’s do another month of M’s prompts shall we…this one is in response to the Weaving Words prompt.


The old clock in the hall struck seven as George sat down at his writing table as he did every night.  He opened the drawer and took out the pen she had given him on their 25th anniversary, then carefully took a sheet of the finest paper from a sheath and placed it on the desk in front of him.

He rolled the pen between his fingers and smiled as he read the inscription:

“My heart remains yours always.”

He pulled his chair to the desk, made himself comfortable and began to write.

 

My dearest Alice

Winter has come at last it seems, and the days grow shorter and we have had the first flakes of snow this evening.   Fortunately I have a good store of wood this year, and the new people on the Henderson farm have assured me they have plenty to spare should I run short.  They seem very nice, though I am not quite sure they are cut out for this life.  Time will tell.

I took a walk by the river this morning, the air cold and crisp and the skies blue with the feintest whisper of cloud.  Sadly the old bridge we built at Millers crossing has collapsed, and I fear age would insist that I am now well beyond repairing it.

Such memories it brought back and I remembered the yellow dress you wore the day we finished it.  It seems like only yesterday, and the smile you wore with it remains with me to this day.  As time passes it’s funny the things we remember and those we forget.  The smallest details of our life together I still recall and yet major events now seem like a story told to me by someone else.

Sometimes I do wonder whether I have forgotten days we spent together, yet my heart remains full of those that are still so clear to me.

My heart remains yours always

George

Gently placing the pen on the desk George then folded the paper and placed it in an envelope that he pulled from the bottom drawer.  Sealing it he then took a bundle of identical envelopes and slowly unknotted the string that bound them together.

Taking up the pen he wrote ‘Alice’ on the front and then bundled it with the others, refastening them together with the old coarse string and placing them back in the drawer.

He smiled as he stood from the desk, pushed the chair back in and turned out the light.

It had been a good day, she would have enjoyed it he thought smiling to himself as he climbed the stairs to bed.

Malcolm

A fiction piece I did for the Carrot Ranch rodeo competition. 100 words on growing up and knowing then what you know now.

A cold wind blew through the broken window as Malcolm sat naked and alone in the dark, skinny bruised arms pulling his knees tight to his chest.  He rocked slowly on the stained, unmade bed and started to cry as he heard the sound of heavy footsteps.

“Bad man says fingers on lips, shhhh” he told himself pressing a grubby finger against his mouth.  A shadow obscured the sliver of light that crept under his door.

Malcolm reached beneath the pillow for the long sliver of glass he’d taken from the broken pane.

“Not this time” he whispered to himself.

A Donald inspired tale of madness

My response to the Friday Fictioneers 100 word challenge inspired by the photo above.  99 words.

My response to the Friday Fictioneers 100 word challenge inspired by the photo above.  99 words.


Andromeda’s orbital engines hummed as Cole and Yin walked towards the marker on their heads up display, helmet lights slicing through the darkness.

Yin stooped and placed a soil sample in his analyser, noticing a pair of ash and cobweb encrusted shoes placed side by side.  The map showed a school had once stood here.  He poked the cobwebs with a gloved finger, and a small spider scuttled along the silky strands.

“Guess this place is all yours now mate” he said sadly, his helmet display blinking orange.

“Cole, radiation spike” Yin shouted, “get back to the shuttle, now!”


Want more stuff?

Armitage – Part 1

Harold

Armitage – Part 2Armitage – Part 2

PHOTO PROMPT © Sarah Potter

Traditional – Daily prompt

“Bloody hell Charlie! his father shouted, dragging himself upright.  “Could you not just give me 5 more minutes like I asked?”  His head pounded and Charlie could smell the cigarettes on his breath.  “Why cant you just be patient?”

“Dad, dad are you waking up?” Charlie asked, tugging at his dad’s sleeve as he slept.  There were bottles strewn across the table and his father was still in yesterday’s clothes.  “I’m hungry dad and there’s nothing in the fridge.”

His father stirred briefly.  “Just 5 more minute Charlie”  he mumbled,  pulling away and turning his back sinking further into the sofa.

“But dad” he insisted, pulling on his father’s shoulder “you said you’d buy food yesterday and you never.”

“Please Charlie, just give me a few minutes and I’ll get up I promise.”

“But dad I’m so hungry” he pleaded.

“Bloody hell Charlie! his father shouted, dragging himself upright.  “Could you not just give me 5 more minutes like I asked?”  His head pounded and Charlie could smell the cigarettes on his breath.  “Why cant you just be patient?”

Charlie started to cry.  It had been this way for a while now, ever since the accident.  Things weren’t like they used to be when mum was still around.

“Please Charlie, come here” said his father, reaching out and pulling him close to console him and suddenly sobbing uncontrollably as he held him.

“Will it always be like this dad?” Charlie asked.  Memories of her were already fading and some days he didn’t think about here at all.  “Will I get a new mum or will we never be a family again?”

 

 


Want to read more of my stuff?  There’s a few links below you might like. There are aliens and zombies and poems and letters and loads more.

https://afterwards.blog/2017/07/14/probing-a-cautionary-tale/

https://afterwards.blog/2017/07/03/first-blog-post/

https://afterwards.blog/2017/07/14/we-unlikely-few/

 

 


https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/Tradition/


I am my mother’s mistake – Five Sentence Story Prompt

“Do I really have to go out again today?” Mina asked, already knowing the answer but hoping that today might be the day when she wouldn’t have to go out onto the streets.

“Do I really have to go out again today?” Mina asked, already knowing the answer but hoping that today might be the day when she wouldn’t have to go out onto the streets.

Ventra raised a hand but stopped short of striking her – too many bruises and someone might start to ask questions.

“You know you do, now get out there with the others, how else are we supposed to buy food”  he shouted, face full of rage and his well manicured fingers instinctively stroking the strap of the gold Rolex on his wrist, “you should be grateful for all we do for you, without us you’d be dead just like her!”

“What’s wrong” Colima asked, popping her head around the door “what’s all the shouting about, Is she causing trouble again?”

“I tell you Colima” Ventra replied angrily, fists clenched, “she’s ungrateful this one, selfish – just like your sister was – she’s just lucky she had us to clean up after her mistakes.”


 

Want to read more of my stuff?  There’s a few links below you might like.  It’s not all like that, there are aliens and zombies and things that aren’t depressing too. 

https://afterwards.blog/2017/07/14/probing-a-cautionary-tale/

https://afterwards.blog/2017/07/03/first-blog-post/

https://afterwards.blog/2017/07/14/we-unlikely-few/

 


https://aestheticgraphy.wordpress.com/2017/07/25/five-sentence-story-prompt-6/

https://doodlingpanda.wordpress.com/2017/07/24/five-sentence-story-prompt-6/

Pictures courtesy of :

https://www.123rf.com/stock-photo/child_poverty.html