You’re so close, yet so far
What my heart would give
To finally feel at home
And a picture that might not make much sense here
So Close
Category: Word Prompt
#1434
“Are they dancing?”
“Malfunctioning.” Brant muttered over his cigarette.
The two soldiers watched from behind the bushes.
“Are these the last ones?”
“Should be. They’re robots, they can’t reproduce.”
The private charged up his laser gun. “Let’s go.”
#1434 didn’t understand.
The men and their lasers raced across the empty lot. #1434 was sure it felt something forming inside but what exactly escaped it’s wire body and central unit.
#1434 tapped a small collection of garbage cans. ‘Time to wake up’. The garbage cans, one piled on top of another, jerked it’s spindly arms.
#1434 had given life to #1435.
Word Count: 100
For Friday Fictioneers
Memory is a Vapor
Memory is a vapor
Settling on my skin
Giving rise
To what has been
It’s tendrils curl
Inviting
Choking
Allowing me to feel
What only just appeared.
RDP Prompt: Vapor
Corrupt
I’m useless
I’m nothing
Everything I give
I let slip through my fingers
Dangle on the wind
While I wish away
Everything I’ve known
To hold it again
RDP: Corrupt (corrupt thoughts?)
Error
Errors I know well
More literally
They mean wandering
Meandering
Through a life
The outcome not specified
RDP: Error
I’m not sure this even makes sense outside my head
Something More
I’m tempted to let the earth swallow me whole
I’d sink into the oceans of dirt
Slide through the fissures at the core
And come out on the other side
Something more
RDP: Fissure
Chairs
“I asked you to get the chairs out.” Lila knew that Charles would use every opportunity to exasperate her, especially when it came to her family.
“I did.” His lips curved into a smirk, only infuriating her more.
“How exactly do you expect anyone to sit in them?” She spit the words towards him like sharpened knives. Charles tapped his chin as he examined his chair placement.
“You didn’t specify what the chairs were to be used for. You just said get them out.” He gestured grandly. “They’re out … your highness.” The last words stung with a venom only her husband could perfect.
“You’re ridiculous.” Sharp pain shot through Lila’s palms where her nails were threatening to break skin. “This is ridiculous!”
“It is, isn’t it? I suppose that’s what you get.”
The force of her slap sent him reeling to the side. He half expected his fingers to come away from the stinging imprint with a coating of fresh blood.
“You bitch! You want chairs! Here!” Charles channeled the rage spiraling through him as he shook the metal pergola. The polls swayed violently, shaking the chairs loose. All at once they came crashing down to the pavement.
Word Count: 199
For Sunday Photo Fiction and RDP word of the day: Talk
In The Name of Control
It is an act of happenstance that humans age. We were supposed to be the all supreme, controllers of our environment and all that means.
At least, that’s what this book says. Personally, I’ve never felt one bit in control of this life. Try telling your military commanders or your knuckleheaded children to just go with the flow. They laugh in your face and tell you to put your glasses back on so you can see reality.
They’ll see one day. All these lies in the name of control will fall away. Someone will need glasses, it won’t be me.
Word Count: 100
For Friday Fictioneers AND the RDP word of the day: happenstance
2 for 1! And Friday Fictioneers on Weds!
Guitars and Dark Spaces
I’ve shared this first photo before when the word of the day was renegade. Today the RDP prompt is guitar and though I racked my brain a little bit, I just couldn’t find anything to write. Both of these are phone pictures taken in the middle of shows. Both guitarist/bands are great.
Schism
There’s a rip
In who I am
Torn
By who I dream to be
RDP Word of the Day: Schism