My pen rests on the paper. Ready to write but entirely motionless, before falling lifelessly to the page.
Thankful that I still can , I breathe as my mind races. My eyes trace the newspaper strewn on the bench before closing to pray, ‘My Lord?”
A tear wells, drops and forms the first, and last, mark.
Dedicated to all those who lost their lives in the #ParisAttacks – words aren’t enough
He first asked as a nine year old after questioning the colour if the sky. He expected straight answers but his questions rebounded – snowballing in confusion.
Frustrated, he explored answers at eighteen. Relationships, challenges, study, finances, faith and employment blended with homelessness and incarceration.
Finally resting, the meaning of life is right under his nose.
Written in response to the photo prompt below from the weekly #55wordchallenge
No job, no prospects, no home – his soul longed for peace as his souls navigated darkness. The frost formed like the deepening desperation in his life.
There was only one option to follow; the light. Step by step, false or not, he longed for His unconditional love.
“You know you are” the boy’s words cut deep.
“Please…” he was lost amongst the jeers.
“You know you are, you know…” the chorus began
Slamming the door, he closed the conversation.
“I don’t agree with any of you. Education isn’t over rated and that doesn’t make me a bigot!”
English classes aren’t always eventful.
In reply to the 55wordstory prompt “Bigot”
“Sit wherever you like” she said, as if I actually wanted to be there.
“Thanks for coming today. Your opinions are…” her words faded with my concentration.
The painting on the wall morphed from a nondescript pattern into a sailboat into a small child reading a tattered book under a tree. Her hair was gently swaying under a spring breeze, her bare feet shifted softly through luscious green grass beside her now discarded shoes and the corner of her mouth subtly lifted to a smile.
“A or B?” she demanded more than asked.
“I’m sorry, the hour has passed.” I stood up quickly before picking up my bag. “Can I have my incentive now?”
Ignoring the shocked look on her face, I took the envelope and left the room. Focus groups have never excited me but the money is easy.
Like a serpent, hands constrict beneath the spotlight.
In his spell and under his control, I am in awe.
The soft light picked up his uneven growth, the twist of his tongue in concentration and his focussed blue eyes. It was as if I didn’t exist but I will always remember Dad’s shadow puppet shows.
She loomed on the horizon, a lone figure full of fear. Her body was sharp with loaded weaponry on her bow.
The clouds highlighted her movements, as if they too were closing in on my inevitable fate. Boardshorts for trousers and sunshine for florescent light. I stared to sea wishing summer holidays didn’t have to end.
The sun fades and he stands alone for in silence. Waves lap the shoreline as the same light returns over the horizon accompanied by the bird’s joyous verse.
Rivers flow like thundering chorus lines and thunder highlights the gentle rhythm of rain.
The universe declares your majesty.
The sun fades and he stands alone for in silence. Waves lap the shoreline as the same light returns over the horizon accompanied by the bird’s joyous verse.
Rivers flow like thundering chorus lines and thunder highlights the gentle rhythm of rain.
The universe declares your majesty.
He rose from his throne crowned in dandruff and robed in terry towelling. Trying to adjust to first light, their delight competed with consciousness.
“Spaghetti necklace” his daughter yelled, pulling it roughly over his head.
The pasta scratched and their love did little for his tiredness. Regardless, Dad smiled at the offering for the King.
In response to the Five Sentence Fiction prompt:Offering
fifty5words 