hate

by

Response JSW Prompt 1-8-2018 on 1-9-2018

Feel free to join in and respond to the prompt. Please try to keep your response under 300 words. If you reply, I will re-blog your post to my site.

The Daily Prompt: August 17, 2017

 

The flowers died on Monday.

She threw them away on Tuesday.

Wednesday, I left. For good.

It wasn’t like we’d fallen out of love.  If anything, we’d fallen more in love, so much more I smothered under the weight of her emotions.

Or had the streams of her feelings turned to hate when I wasn’t looking?

I don’t know. Things would have been easier had I known.

It’s easy to pretend to hate, but so much harder to walk out the door and never look back.

Thursday, I moved to California, half a world away from dead flowers in a dumpster.

On Friday, alone in an empty apartment, I cried.

Saturday, I left the apartment and never looked back.

by

Sunday Photo Fiction 9-16-2017

Cindy turned from the window.  “It’s over,” she declared, with finality.

“It will never be over.”

“Oh, grow up, Dave!”

“It won’t bring him back, Cin.”

“At least we got justice.”

“Justice? Is that what we just saw?”

“Yes.”

“It doesn’t chance anything.”

“Yes, it does.”

“What?”

“Now we can move on.” The tears started.

‘If you haven’t moved on after twenty years, why the hell will you now?’ he wanted to say, but didn’t.

“The Bible says an eye for an eye,” she insisted in a voice he knew too well, then walked out, slamming the door shut behind her.

He’d been all for killing the man who murdered their father. At the beginning. It had seemed a just and right fate; a place to put all his hurt and fear and rage. But things didn’t always work out the way he wanted.

He’d just watched a man die for killing his father.

No, he would never forget. But, now, he could forgive.

by

JSW (Just Start Writing) Prompts

Other bloggers have expressed an interest in JSW prompts. Like I’ve always said, the more the merrier. If the urge strikes you to write off the prompt, please feel free to do so. You can link back to my original post and I will reblog your story onto A Writer’s Life. Please try to keep your response under 500 words for the sake of the reader’s time. Also, please do not write anything unfit for younger readers as I have no idea whether any of my followers are under 18.

I am trying to get onto a weekly schedule, posting the prompt on Mondays. This would give you at least a week to respond. If you need longer, go for it. Just remember to copy the prompt into your reply.

So, that said, the prompt for this week is:

aa395be9beaef49cbb85f7edb88d8fea

 

 

by

Sunday Photo Fiction – December 11th 2016

spf

The idea of Sunday Photo Fiction is to create a story or poem or something using around about 200 words with the photo as a guide. Please try to keep it as close to the 200 words as possible. It doesn’t have to be center stage in the story, I have seen some where the placement is so subtle, the writer states where it is.

See more Here.

185-12-december-11th-2016

He stared at the Flame, almost feeling it. Smelling it. Tasting it.

He liked Pain, the way it blazed through his body, washing him clean. Fear, too. He liked Fear. Tasting Fear. Wanted to know how it felt to…

Blinked and looked away. He couldn’t…. shouldn’t. It only made the Voices louder. Angrier.

DO it. DO it DO it Doit doit doit doitdoitdoitdoit!

Dry tongue licked dry lips. Heart pounded. Breath rasped. Hand shaking.

Put your hand in. Put it in! Putitinputitinputitinputitin!”

He tasted fear and ash and burned flesh. Vomit in his throat.

“Do it!”

Him or the Voices? He wouldn’t know without trying.

A hand reached out.

Flame and Pain and…

Nothing.

Nothingnothingnothingnothingnothing….

by

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.