A short poem for Visdare.
One little elephant
Ran while his clan
Instinct sought safety,
And family ties.
Rare human kindness.
Years without fear.
This section is written in response to the photo prompt from Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Parts One, Two and Three. <—- Follow to find if you have not read yet. This is my third segment on the same story today. It is unusual for me to write so many flash-fics in the same day, let alone on a larger plot. I couldn’t seem to dislodge this one from my focus. I’ve been sitting here manically typing away despite exhaustion and seizure warnings because I felt compelled to get it out. Case of the story hijacking the Author.
Eric twirled the pill-jar, staring at half-drunk whiskey. He reached for it. No. Eric hesitated, then reached again. No. He felt restrained by another. Eric supposed it was wistful thinking. Eric hung his head into his hands. The image of the falls rose again. Unbidden; persistent. 25 of March. “Her anniversary. May as well spend it there.” His tone as bitter. Eric left home sober for the first time in years.
Even in winter the area was beautiful. Elendra stood, waiting. A realistic hallucination; the green robe edged in grey was a nice touch. Not something she had ever worn. The warmth of her hand in his grip; he had lost his mind. He felt well. “This time, you leap with me.”
“My turn to take a leap of faith.” Elandra smiled, free of anguish. Together they leapt, he would follow to oblivion. He felt electrified, then… Surprised. They stood on a path of autumnal beauty.
Olivia ignored the beaten stray trailing along behind her. Some scraps, and she was forever loyal. Olivia had other concerns. Ever since ‘the incident’ local kids had taken to vandalising her property. She came to an abrupt halt as her precious home came into view. Fists trembled as nails bit into palms. Little Bastards! There they were… Egging her door! The stray sprang past, chasing the vandals off with ferocious snarls. Shrieks satisfied her ears. The stray sat down on her door-step with a sense of entitlement. “All right, Willa, you can stay.”
I’ve borrowed this photo from Jeremy’s Thursday Challenge. It wasn’t the intended prompt, I think, but it inspired me, soo… I give you this flash-fic. I warn you it does deal with terrorism but from an alternative point of view because I, quite frankly, am tired of the muslim = terrorist/extremist notion. This is not directed at Christianity either, so please hold the flames. 🙂 And, as a final note, if you have lost loved ones as the result of extremist behaviour or have strong opinions on terrorism/religion, and may be offended please skip over this bit of fiction – no offence is intended.
Prayer for the dying.
On the bench facing the park a man sat in plain clothes with an open book in his lap. To passers-by he was reading. If they had ventured a closer inspection they would have noted he clutched a crucifix.
“May Christ, Who was crucified for your sake, free you from excruciating pain.”
“May Christ, Who died for you, free you from the death that never ends.”
“May Christ, the Son of the living God, set you in the ever green loveliness of His Paradise, and may He, the true Shepherd, recognize you as one of His own.”
“May you see your Redeemer face to face and, standing in His presence forever, may you see with joyful eyes Truth revealed in all its fullness.”
15:46 The explosion tore buildings indiscriminately.
He rose and was lost in the confusion around him.
Abraham flicked on the evening news. “…tragic bombing of a London mosque has now claimed 56 lives with injury counts in 100s. Father Timothy Brown has been arrested for withholding vital information about the bomb. Police currently have no evidence linking him to the crime itself…” Abraham flicked the TV off. He might have known the old bastard would turn himself. “He never did have faith…”
By the time police raided Abraham’s home, he was long gone and a dangerous new terror threat was in the making.
I have been Tagged by Millie Thom to take part in ‘What Love is in four words’. The aim is straightforward – describe love in four words. Seems easy enough but, then, you have to ask yourself ‘What is love?’ Thanks to Valentine’s Day, this is somewhat of a hot topic. However, I’m a social constructionist, so I’m very aware of how the emotion has been layered on by societal ideals of the notion of love. Where does the fanciful notions stop and love begin? A question for the ages…
I have never celebrated Valentine’s Day. I don’t see the point. Why make a special effort on one day of the year when you should make that effort everyday? As for flowers? You give me roses and I’m likely to trim the stems, plant them in potatoes, and bury the potatoes in the garden so I can give them a new life as a rose bush. I’m not that kind of romantic. 🙂
I’m supposed to tag 10 others but it’s past three in the morning and I’m supposed to get sleep at some point; so I say to readers – ‘Tag, you’re it!’ (Please drop me a line if you do, I’d like to read.)
…Passion; raw, turbulent, unhinged.
…not blind; accepting, forgiving.
…fighting to understand.
…yearning to be understood.
…Pure, fragile; easily stained.
…mysterious, capricious and inconclusive.
…twinned with hate.
…north; south is indifference.
…kind yet cruel.
…gentle yet callous.
…the fabric of existence.