Posted in flash fiction

Friday Fictioneers – At Last

Fat raindrops rolled down the window pane accompanied by the ever present haze of city living. Ghosts of years gone by stood silently silhouetted against a dark, starless sky.

Lights from the spire sprinkled to life in a dazzling glaze. A gasp caught in her throat. The sign she had been waiting for.

Her Prince Charming casting a wide arching call for her to come.

At last.

She shoved the suitcase closed around three stuffed animals and a bag of Cheetos.

Fading photos, her momentos of a life forgotten, would have to stay behind.

The nurses quietly blocked her door.

nyc-jill-wisoffPHOTO PROMPT ©Jill Wisoff


 

A special thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for wrangling in Friday Fictioneers.

I did a few of these then stopped for several weeks due to my work load (at my actual job and my grad school work). Luckily I’ve found myself with a slight bit of breathing room … or the possibility of killing men just watch them die if I didn’t get a chance to space out soon … So here I am.

Posted in stream of consciousness

Golden Light

Sunday thing.

Bubble

Music – The Echelon Effect on Spotify shuffle (I do this a lot you see)

We blow bubbles into the golden sunset,
Memories trapped in worlds we struggle to relive,
Reflecting rainbows, shimmering golds
We whisper our secrets into bubbles
And send them off to shrouds of secrecy
Beyond prying eyes and probing fingers
With promises of happily ever after
If we ever make it down from there.
We were but kids, young and in false belief
There will always be more to dream
Bubbles float beyond our clouds, grey skies from there on out
We always knew they would pop
Our precious memories would come tumbling down
Held in such high regard, we would learn to see
Truths about what we’ve done
As our pristine bubble memories rain down sharp fears
We were but kids, in the golden light, wondering what we’ve done

Posted in stream of consciousness

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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