Posted in friday fictioneers

Chicken Little

Sia tapped an unsuspecting puddle with her toe. Startled it rippled away, gently distorting the realities reflected on its surface.

The ripples transformed her brother, straining to peer into the dark general store, to a boy scavenging after Christmas. Barren trees became crumbling sticks, not even good for fire.

The sky was falling.

“Something’s wrong.”

Marta’s back spasmed and her lungs burned as she coughed. Thin strings of blood stretched from her lips to the palm of her hand.

Only her son caught sight of the panic in Marta’s eyes.

“Nothing’s wrong Sia. Stop daydreaming and come on.”

PHOTO PROMPT © Jean L. Hays

Word Count: 98
For Friday Fictioneers courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff Fields. Thank you as always.

Posted in Word Prompt

Run

I started working on something for the daily prompt – identity but it ended up being something I really liked and wanted to work on more, so it’s not getting posted today. Here’s a piece of something else instead.

I ran so far,
I lost sight of the horizon.
The blue of the faded sky,
Blended into the black
Of an unreachable future.
And my breath formed clouds,
Of toxic beauty against,
Golden maroon sunsets.

I ran so far,
My problems didn’t have to move,
To keep up with me.
They waited patiently,
At the finish line for me to cross.
And my sweat formed black puddles,
Of deadly reflection on the ground
Against the darkness disguised as use.


Go see what’s new over at The Perfectly Imperfect Bunch, we’re writing legends, tales and stories this week