“Uggghh.” Janey’s fingers left long claw marks in the hot sand around her.
As the sun beat down on her bare legs the scent of burning flesh tickled her nose.
“Ugghh … grape … juice …” In all of her five years she had never been so thirsty.
“Janey!” A mirage of her older sister appeared; just like the movies. “Mom said to sit up. You’re taking up too much room in the sandbox.”
Hana dropped a bottle of water into the sand beside her younger sister. Janey flopped onto her back, “Grape juuuice.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers, Janey.”
Word Count: 99
Word/Phrase: “Beggar’s can’t be choosers”
For Carrot Ranch and a reappearance of the sisters that appeared in this story
Maybe that’s all there is.
Maybe one day you walk out of the office heading for nowhere and end up here. Eye to eye with everything that’s left of Bessie the desert cow you never knew you cared about.
You waltzed out of the gas station, one brain cell on reality and the rest playfully baiting eternity, when three pairs of hands and a graying beard shove you into a rumbling cargo van.
Who knows really how long your face will remain plastered over crumbling brick walls and flashed ever sparingly across the bottom of nightly news screens.
Like Bessie it could already be long gone. A skeleton in some rattled detectives closet, only to be unearthed when ground is broken for that new shopping mall in ten years time.
For now you’re flung four feet deep with dirt and desert bugs collecting in the folds of your skirt. Broken blades of grass and decades old Bud Light cans settle into their rightful place nestled among your bruised arms.
Caressing your hair, chopped and dyed, the slow harness of time takes hold.
And you have no choice but to sit with Bessie, the eyes which see it all, and wait.
Image and write photo challenge via Sue Vincent
I don’t dance
I spent my childhood chained to the rail
I cry out for something more in this life of almost … is
What was it you whispered again?
Invisible words silently fed to the darkest spaces
Pulse through my veins
Choking life from all who touch me
Your memory is a ripple in sands of time
A fading oasis beyond sweltering lines
Forever sweeping away on the wind
Taut and teasing
A barrier into foreign lands
Unforgiving in the way it leads
The way it never gives
I don’t dance
But the memory beckons a sway or two
If only to say
I drowned in the desert
And absence of you
Word of the Day: Miss, word generator here