Saturday Scribes, short story

lacuna

saturdayscribes: theme: failure to communicate; words/phases: consuming wounds prophet
photo: Mike Rodriquez, flickr

on the way to portland
we passed the columbia river
at least a hundred times
back and forth
side by side

almost hypnotizing
windswept waters
shifted the want of talk

the radio station crackled
some dj prophet spoke of love
mysterious crazy love
he cooed as a dove and played
jimi hendrix little wing

the hours stretched
as a white empty canvas
waiting for paint
propped up against
a thousand others

interrupting time
i slept a short while
and while dreaming
tiny little blood beads
dropped with little hesitation
opening and oozing

a couple of old wounds resurface
sang out in acapello a song
familiar yet ungettable
and when i reached out
to soothe the smear
they sprouted a hundred hairy tiny
little funny legs
and ran away

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Saturday Scribes, short story, SundayScribblings

nothing serious

saturday scribes: theme_change of plans; words_church, exploding, sinister
sunday scribblings: no 199 yes.

yes
i did say yes
in earnest honesty

my mind made up
packed and ready
turned off the light
closed the door
and left

when we stopped
at the gas station
you went to pay
for crunchy peanuts

and then i heard
a no very clearly
screaming really loud

exploding with fire
against the cold cool
clear night

i think it was about
2 in the morning
because it was still
dark

and then i remembered
something so soft
that sinister look
of distraction
when nothing goes well

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6S, CafeWriting, PoefusionFriday5

Journey

Poefusion Friday 5 prompt: kiss, train, fence, vale, simper. another 6S attempt. and, March Project at Cafe Writing Option 1 Fiction: To be interested in the changing seasons is a happier state of mind than to be hopelessly in love with spring.George Santayana. Write a flash-fic, scene, or short story about a happier state of mind.

Train

Listening to the sound of the train traveling fast forward never stopped arousing the sense of freedom in her rambling simper heart. Resting impatiently she stared out the clear open window viewing the passage of seasons stirring within the fence of days known from sunrise to sunset. In-between those hours her companion would often turn from his engaging book and kiss her lips with a remote softness that left devoted desire unchecked. Smiling each time he would subtly assure her of their journey and the unfamiliar destination soon to come. Heading to a place she’d never known with a man she thought she knew sometimes made her want to turn another direction. Slowly the curtain of darkness disclosed the day’s end turning her thoughts back to the gentle movement of motion and remembering the vale of yesterday and how he spoke to her from there and the difference of him here now.

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