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.
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
Rude and intrusive … the alarm was far from welcome.
My shirt scrapped harshly across my back and I began my first to do list for the year. “Buy fabric softener.”
With this attitude my first day back was going to be hard. Soft and welcoming, my outlook changed in an instant; brand new socks.
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
Fingers hover and my mind strains. There’s no movement. The world is melting pot of stories and I can’t find one! I only need fifty five words, it cannot be that hard.
An alert arrives; a happy reader, inspiration at last.
Fingers chase my rushing mind. I’ve remembered the smiles, the true reason I write.
Daily prompt: Writerly reflections
Woken abruptly by the sound, the room seemed entirely untouched; freshly pressed clothes in a pile, window shut, draws slightly ajar and his daughter fast asleep.
Stooped low beside the bed, he kissed his angel. That’s when the sound returned; a low rumbling like a dog’s growl, his daughter’s hands violently clawing at his throat.
Daily prompt: Talking in your sleep
“You don’t have a choice” he said before leaving. “The report has to be done.”
His manager’s demands were compounded by his responsibilities at home and the inevitable 60 hour work week.
Dan stopped and looked the framed photo on his desk. It was amazing what strength he found in his kids image alone.
Confused, he recalled the week’s events in his mind; helping the old lady, giving up his seat, assisting the lost tourist and giving his last dollar to the man with nothing but a cup on the street.
Despite this, the pile of bills on the stood tall.
Karma is both, a bitch and a myth.
In response to the daily post prompt Karma Chameleon
fifty5words 