Sunday Photo Fiction – October 23rd 2016

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The idea of Sunday Photo Fiction is to create a story / poem or something using around about 200 words with the photo as a guide.

The city stretched before him, tangled mass of metal and humans and fear. Oh, yes, fear. Humans lived with fear so intricately tangled into every aspect of their lives, they had forgotten what it meant to be free. No masters needed to put the human race in slavery, they did that for themselves, no matter the color of their skin. Slavery, after all, isn’t all chains and whips. Each village build, tower raised, each step of ‘progress’ took men further from the truth. They told stories to trap the monsters and gods out of their lives and into books. Fiction. Forgotten. Dust.

Gods gave meaning to the lives of men, but mankind didn’t want freedom. He was not, would not, would never be the god of fear, rather the god of everything free – free speech, free lives, free minds.

Time to retire to Shady Groves Forgotten Gods Home in the sky.

Maybe… just maybe, Loki had waited for his next move in their chess game. Probably not, the little stinker.  He cheated.

Opening his eyes, he studied the chess board.  Good thing he was the god of Memory too.

Friday Fictioneers September 21,2016

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PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

The sparkling lights reminded her of the stars which, when she slept, protected her from the dark.  This morning, she had no time for stars, running out the door with toothbrush and toothpaste in hand. No makeup. No bling. Almost no sandals, but she dashed back just in time. Clattering up the bus steps, she smiled at the driver and settled into a midway seat.  Unusual, but not earth shattering.

She sat, arms full of the necessities of the day.  In other words, nothing. These things, as all things, were nothing is the light of day. Imagined the ticking, the counting down, in rhythm with her heart.  Held herself as if to protect the unborn child she would never have.

Minutes ticked.  The bus grew fuller, stacked with humans like wheat stalks in the field.

Minutes.  Minutes. Minutes.

All she felt was a flash of agony, a moment when the stars settled down around her, gathering her into their arms to fly away.

Daily Press One Word Prompt – Joke.

Joke

Them was laughing at me, I know they was.  I know.  I know these things, don’t bother to ask how. It’s a secret between Momma and me.

Course that was a couple weeks ago, before she got so sick and went away. Them folk took her, said it was the law, didn’t listen to what Momma wanted.  So I hadta go and steal her back. Folks made a mess of noise over her, but there weren’t no toehold in the silencing wall.

She eats her meals with me now. Mostly, that’s the time I see her. We don’t talk much, Momma and me, but it’s nice to sit at the table with her, the table Grandpop twice-back made with his two hands, all by hisself. I think I woulda liked Grandpop.  He wouldn’t have helped them folk wanting to hurt us.

Momma and me, we like our lives just fine.

But, them folks coming tomorrow, for me and for Momma. Momma don’t want to go back and I ain’t gonna let’em have her. We go together or not at all.

That’s why we’re sitting here at the table so long after dinner. I washed the dishes just how Momma liked’em done, straightened the house until she was happy with the look of things.

‘Don’t ever leave trash behind you,’ she always used to say. ‘Cause them folks will judge you by the trash and not from yourself.”

The crackle of the fire slicks my skin with heat.  I reach out and take Momma’s hand. “Won’t be long now, Momma,” I say, flames sweeping the floor, lapping table legs.

A day at the beach,  Momma.  You remember that day at the beach? Just remember Momma, we’ll see Grandpop soon.

 

How Did The World Become So Cruel?

“Our world is no longer a safe and predictable place. We cannot allow ourselves to be pulled into a false sense of security. Today’s tragedy is a stark reminder that we are not immune from these types of domestic terror attacks nor the hateful motives which drive these assailants,”

President of the Florida Sheriffs Association, Alachua County Sheriff Sadie Darnell.


I know when. I know forever. But what I don’t know is why. Why does it have to be this way?

I’ve been holding this post since that day in Orlando because I just didn’t, and don’t, know what to say. Down deep, I know there are words. I want them to be perfect words, but they’re not. Not perfect. Maybe not even there. Maybe there are no words to express the sadness I feel, the horror at the cruelty of man against man and, even more, the total incomprehension when confronted with events like Orlando or… the list seems to go on forever.

When Cain raised his hand to Abel, was that the moment this darkness entered our souls? Or was it earlier? Later? Or is this always the way we have been, and always will be?

My truest hope is, no, this will not always be.