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”
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
Somedays start with a mix of rain and squeals. Those days are long.
There’ll be unappreciated Lego, inconsistent baking, paint spills and bed sheet cubby houses that they’ll prefer destructing over constructing. There will be tears.
These days are caffeine fuelled and frustration filled. Dad tries hard but I struggle to reign with Sunday rain.
His hands lured me in, gently rummaging through the forest on my head.
Then flying blades cut through like low flying jets as roaring clippers cleared all debris. The attack was swift and virtually painless.
“How do you like it?” he asks.
“It’s good” I reply. What else can you say to a fresh haircut?
In respnse to the Five Sentence Fiction prompt: Fresh
She was on my left, between me and the river.
Feeling warmth on my neck but my guilt made me shiver.
Undeserved, she was innocent. It’s just one of those things.
Her eyes are an empty vessel filling with danger.
Holding hands in hope, I walk with a stranger.
Written as part of Morgen’s Online Poetry Writing Group
Deep dark circles for eyes, outstretched arms reaching through the overhanging branches. Sam’s yawns are replaced by screams, the image had returned.
His Mother consoled him but he couldn’t manage words. His Father offered to accompany him but he shook uncontrollably with fear.
Sam’s truck sat alone, he and the Ghost first met.
Written in response to #55wordchallenge – tears of the innocent
Flicking between favourites on his browser, he was desperate to find a worthwhile distraction. He’d already read the news, it depressed him anyway, social media was predictable and his emails were full of spam.
Dust rose from the idle keyboard under his sigh as he clicked wordpress.
Two words filled is desolate mind, Happy Anniversary!
Wow, fifty5words is a year old. I can still remember when you were a mere collection of rambling thoughts, the effect of an over active imagination. It’s crazy how much you haven’t grown since then.
THANK YOU ALL FOR BEING PART OF THE JOURNEY, HERE’S TO ANOTHER 365 DAYS
fifty5words 