Posted in Photo

64-66/365 Cloudy Thinking

I often wonder if I absorbed the disintegrated, evaporated particles of our fears could I float, perhaps beyond the stratosphere. Could I reflect and refract, changing reality of our existence in hues of burning oranges and somber blues. Would I brave the danger, the innate sense of impending nature, when the weight of the worlds sorrows becomes far too many and fade away under rolling thunder.

I spent around 10 hours on planes today and I’m slightly obsessed with clouds and looking out the window when flying … 

Posted in Photo

58/365 Steam on the Road

Things have been boiling over
Crescendo until ….
Trill
Then the clouds break

I couldn’t get a picture of the actual steam coming off the road without using my real camera but by time I got home and inside to grab it the rain picked up and the steam was gone. 

Posted in friday fictioneers

Friday Fictioneers – Lips So Blue

I saw the sign. I heard her small voice say, “we should turn back.”

Jermaine, I chastised, always too sure of yourself.

The sky sure is blue from here. Small clouds, formed into puffs of slight dog fur, float by casting their shadows among the scattered glass.

If I could speak … a thousand things I know I should say.

An impromptu apology to my momma, for what I don’t know.

Maybe all the years of grief … maybe all the years to come.

Beside me her eyes stare like glass, reflecting rolling hills and jagged cliffs.

Her lips are so blue.

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PHOTO PROMPT © Björn Rudberg

Many thanks to the wonderful Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for rounding up Friday Fictioneers

 

 

Posted in Word Prompt

Silly Questions

WordPress Daily Prompt – Sympathize

I smelled it before I saw it.

“Well, shit.” Of course it was pouring and my umbrella was in the car. Fat droplets splattered the ground, exploding on impact. Each a little crime scene that would evaporate within the hour only to come storming down again.

Do I have to leave? The only appropriate answer was yes. I forgot enough appointments with my counselor; neither of us wanted the “hey, I thought we had a meeting …” voicemail.

Like an answer to my unspoken calls, beams of sunlight pierced through the clouds and the rain screeched to a stop.

“Now or never.”

Even the universe has a sense of humor.

I was 15 steps from the buildings main door, under the huge oak tree, when the clouds clamped shut over the sun and resumed their downpour.

Fuck.

I stood hostage to the rain, staring out into the parking lot. How many steps to my car? I was parked at the back of the lot so … well math is hard but the answer was a lot. The oak tree could only shield me so much, even its branches were beginning to give way to the strength of the rain drops.

“I have to go, it’s only going to get worse.” It’s only going to get worse. I let the words bounce around in my mind. Lately it seemed that everything only got worse.

Maybe I was paying some karmic debt for kicking puppies in a past life. I still wasn’t sure.

Ok, one foot in front of the other, only way out.

The clouds pelted me with lukewarm bombs.

Oh, this fucking sucks.

I thought I would want to run. I was sure I would want to get from underneath the oak to my car as quickly as humanly, or inhumanly, possible.

Instead I stood frozen under the pouring rain.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad. Maybe, if this was the worst it could be, it wasn’t so bad.

Can rain sympathize with a broken soul? Can it wash away that which threatens to tear us apart?

I let the water pool in my hand. What silly questions.

But still, I’m just crazy enough to stand out here in the rain.


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Posted in Word Prompt

What Secrets This Lake Keeps

What secrets this lake keeps
When the dark nights rain
And it’s just humid enough
For the lake to stain
With the ghost of clouds
That couldn’t quite take flight.
There’s a story here
Only unfolding in those nights.
Billy lives in that mansion across the way.
Him, his mistress and a perfect family.
He shines the spotlight over the lake
When the fogs settle in thick.
Billy claims it’s for the speedsters,
Whipping in and out,
Keeps them quick.
But I know the truth,
Of Billy and the lake
And the girl he vowed to take
As his first, his wife.
His heart and soul she was.
Until one day sweet Billy found her
Facedown in the red mud;
Gunshot wounds
To the back and head.
The gun was his
And sweet Billy was no saint.
Scared, he hid
Her body at the bottom of the lake.
Now he shines his spotlight,
When the fogs coat the waters thick
To keep the specter of his love
From spilling his secrets like oil slicks.


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