Silence your world
Reality is the illusion now
This door awaits your knock
Close your eyes and step forward
Begin your flight to endless heights
Hide in fear in darkest pits
Change your beliefs
Solidify your dreams
This place is uniquely your own
Within your mind, above the stars
Find it now, choose your trip
Imagination welcomes your entrance
Photo via Willow Poetry – What do you See?
Doctor Elizabeth Jasper felt her back burn up as she sat down on the black leather interior of her ’44 Oldsmobile. She rolled the window down and remained there for a moment as the heat that was trapped inside slowly escaped. Despite the intense temperature of a car that had been parked in the desert sun for hours, Dr. Jasper wasn’t ready to drive away just yet. This was a big decision. She had debts to consider. A new mortgage on a small house that had to be addressed. Her son with a disability that required expensive treatments. These were real things to grasp, things to worry about. The tangible fears of where her next paycheck would come from, stopped her from leaving this place for the final time.
Then the discovery that made her walk out in the first place, raised its emotional hands and grabbed her by the neck once again. The sickening thought of her being involved in something ungodly, snuffed out all her financial realities. A realization she had made hours previous that was still turning her stomach inside out. All of the research that she had been doing, hours of calculations and the endless theoretical brainstorming discussions were all intended for one single, dark purpose. The eventual construction of one very real, atomic bomb. She was hired (and paid quite handsomely) to merely come up schematics and mathematical probabilities for some undisclosed, scientific projects. As it turned out, she was merely a small cog in a much bigger machine.
The sweat began to flow into her eyes as she sat there, waiting. The undeniable core of her identity questioning the doubtless hesitation in leaving. Her belief system in the sanctity of life and the role of God that men take-on, was suddenly being challenged by the basic needs of suburban survival. She looked up at the New Mexico sun as it brightened throughout the heavens. A simple reason was what she silently prayed for in justifying any final choice that she would make. The world was slowly changing around Dr. Jasper. She however, remained immobile in her ambiguity on what decision could she possibly live with for the rest of her life.
Written using the following prompts:
January Writing Prompt – A simple reason was she needed – Day 30/31
Three Things Challenge #30 – bomb, desert, jasper
My buddy, Curtis was quite the storyteller. Every morning at the diner, he would share with us all a tall of some sort. They usually involved celebrities. I honestly don’t know if Curtis believed his stories, but we still were entertained. This morning’s yarn was a “Curtisdoozie”. He proclaimed he knew a guy who was related to someone who knew “The Beatles”. Curtis claimed,
“Most of them Beatles songs had different titles”.
Me and the boys smirked.
“Helter-Skelter’s original name was Heebie-Jeebies”.
I started to laugh thinking about poor John Lennon screaming “HEEBIE-JEEBIES!”
Curtis grinned at me, knowing full well that this was just “Beatles-bologna”.
(Exactly 111 words)
Written for Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt, where we are challenged to write a poem or piece of prose using the words “helter-skelter” in exactly 111 words.
After forty-five years at this sweat-shop of a bakery, Maria Zito was finally retiring. Forced to work for these miserable people as a young woman, she’ll now leave the owners one last tray of her delicious cookies. A special creation of Ex-lax and cinnamon to celebrate her escape.
Written for this week’s Twittering Tales prompt from Kat Myrman. Photo credit: Oleg Magni at Pexels.com.
The branches of an early Autumn frost crack under the feet of William Ward as he continues his walk home. He exhales a dry breath as his age slows down his pace. Today was a good day for him, with a quest full of treasures. The canvas bag he carried was filled with a wool cap, some slightly irregular socks, a few mildewed paperback books and a dented can of carrots. William loved carrots. When he was a little boy, he would be the only one out a family of four kids that would eat every single one off of his plate. His Mom would then embarrass him with a big hug and kiss right at kitchen table. Of course back then, those carrots were cooked by Mom in this special glaze that made them extra crunchy and irresistible. Those days were long gone now, along with his Mom and his three sisters. The days now were very different for William. The safety and warmth of his childhood home were eventually replaced by different levels of life’s standards. His apartment right out college was small but decent, as was the cape cod he had bought with his wife, Barbara. There the two them lived for many years, raising three boys to manhood and marriage. William often thinks of those memories, they instinctively seep into his present state of mind on the nights when the open cold air numbs his body. Night would soon be descending, as the afternoon sun was starting to set. The chill of the night would be upon the woods. William would rely upon the six blankets and giant stuffed teddy bear to keep him warm. He approaches the rusted husk of the Plymouth station wagon and throws his bag inside. He thinks of Barbara and the over-sized sunglasses she used to wear in this car back when they would drive the kids down to the Jersey shore for summer vacations. She was always a fashionista, even wanted makeup on her face as she slipped away in her hospital bed. This had been a damn good car. William remembers his Dad repeatedly telling him growing up,
“Son, just always change the oil on ANY car. She’ll last a lifetime”.
And as usual like most Dads are with their uncannily accurate advice, Dad was right. This car ran for many years and thousands of miles.
William coughs into the open air, fighting off a potential cold. He gets into his car once again, the one he now calls home and closes his eyes. He thinks of how good of a day it was to have found a dented can of carrots as he slowly falls asleep.
Written for this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Photo credit: Ted Strutz.
Her inner muse was so bored with her writing
Depressing pieces with topics quite frightening
The characters she made were always wicked and gritty
Her poems often made a poor reader feel sadness and pity
Lovers in pain or families at war
People of rage with a settle to score
It was time for this bleak writer to escape this dark creative range
Yet still keeping her integrity with a stylistic change
She’ll start creating worlds filled with bright,cheerful stuff
Not a bit being scared in having her poems being called frivolous fluff
FOWC With Fandango – Range
How much longer would she have to wait for her damn western omelette? A few cracked eggs, simple job. She looks out at the bagel place, wishing she had chosen them this morning. Thirty minute felt like an eternity, when that insatiable breakfast hunger controlled your destiny.
This 279-character short was written for Twittering tales #120.
Twittering Tales #120 – 22 January 2019
“Who did this?” Lieutenant Sullivan gasped entering the crime scene. Mr. Oscar Munson had been found dead earlier with an arrow sticking out from his forehead. Apparently, upon answering his front door the murder weapon crashed through and struck him right between the eyes.
“Thats why you’re here sir, to find the killer” Rookie officer Franco answered.
Sullivan snapped. “I know that! Who put the duct tape over the broken glass? It’s evidence!”
Franco lowered his head and said “Me, sir. I forgot to bring the yellow crime scene tape”.
Sullivan knew right then, it would be a long night.
Written for the Friday Fictioneers prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.
Photo credit: Dale Rogerson.
Although it was a simple thing to be doing, something strange was happening.
Paul Coelho, The Valkyries
As soon as he looked out his front window, Matt Winslow knew that something was very wrong outside. There was none of the usual weekend activity that he gotten used to seeing every Saturday morning out on the streets. Usually, they were children running around kicking a soccer ball or merchants opening up their stores for the day’s business. Matt came to vacation in this remote village every year, because of its relaxed pace and tranquility. However, This morning felt different and unnerving. Leaving the chaos of his stress filled life to relax in this paradise was an easy task for Matt. Although, it was a simple thing to be doing, something strange was happening.
For the first time in all the years that he had been visiting here, Matt Winslow felt something cold and different. He was overwhelmed with this irrational fear of what had happened outside. He shut the window, went into his bedroom and locked the door behind him.
This 162 word story was inspired by and written for 50-word Thursday.
Her paradise crumbled from discovery
She uncovered his colors
A cold disbelief gets replaced with welcomed anger
Lies created this reality
This present washes away past delights
Moments were magic
Tricking her perceptions
Flowers given, passion connected
Prince charming presumed real
This daily mirage now vanished by a mysterious text
The cracking doubt spread quickly
Allegations forced from pain
His confession brings the curtain down
She had been the fool cast in her own play all along
The scars will fade with days past
Baggage is carried away from this lesson
She’ll walk away and take all of this with her
Victimization builds character
A stronger self now marches forward
January Writing prompt And she walked away, She took it all with her Day 15/30
She remembers them teasing with misguided hate
Labels of ignorance that dictated her fate
Bookworm, fag, weirdo and nerd
She was merely just shy and socially awkward
These rituals of judgement ruined her teen years
The status of worthlessness falsely given by peers
A thirty year mark brought bring them all back together
To celebrate those days that are recalled as better
Some of them laugh about their past bullying choices
Their former target then arrives silencing all voices
Prepared for battle, she makes her presence known
A successful executive who will gladly make them all atone
January Writing prompts- Prepared for battle, she makes her presence known -Day 11/31
January Writing Prompts
Really, murdering a guy was as easy as snuffing out a cigarette in Sebastian Alozar’s mind. He had no guilt for the ones he had killed before and he would sleep like a baby later after taking care this latest assignment. Mr. Albert Schmidt, an accountant for the Colette institute of research, had discovered some ill-gotten funds while checking some old financial ledgers. He was planning on going to the feds, if he was threatened in any way. The truth of the matter was, Albert was going “rat out” to the feds no matter what. He was a mouse of a man who often would jump at his own shadow. A call was made to Sebastian from his “superiors” and he would soon take care of things for a nice chunk of change. He knew where Schmidt be tonight, having his usual bowl of New England clam chowder at Spenser’s diner on the corner. All Sebastian had to do was wait outside in the parking lot and make it clean. One shot to Schmidt’s head and it would be done. The innate feeling of remorse over murder that is within most people, would be completely absent in the soulless body of Sebastian Alozar. He would do the job he worked hard at and then head home to the loving embrace of his wife and their three small children.