Posted in Word Prompt

Lighten/Meme

RDP: Lighten
FOWC: Meme

Sometimes, after a good round of doom scrolling, I feel the need to lighten the load. It’s reasonable I think. I typically retreat to the mainstays of internet comedy, memes. 

But meme’s can get dark too, a doom scrolling of a different type. 

Yesterday a meme of Marie Antoinette’s head came up. 

I smiled at first but then it was time for the execution to begin.

Maybe we’ll call this tales from the executioner.

Posted in flash fiction, Word Prompt

Sangfroid, Instead and Vampires

RDP: Sangfroid
FOWC: Instead

Offering a sort of sangfroid, the music was unlike anything the crowd had ever heard. Notes weaving from the stage slid their ways into the patrons brains.

They swayed.

They bounced.

They flailed.

They … except Marlon. A singular bastion of disgust in a sea of enthralled fish.

Marlon watched the band jump around the stage creating a cacophony.

“I will never understand.”

“You don’t have to! Just let the music take you!” His right hand woman, Aileen, jumped around beside him. “I can’t stop!” 

“I can’t imagine why. Instead of dancing why don’t you help kill the vampires.”

Aileen spun away, joining with another vibrating group of club patrons. 

“Fine, I’ll do it myself.”

Posted in stream of consciousness, Word Prompt

Gnaw

There’s something gnawing at the edge of my spirit

Small but persistent, hidden

Words once exchanged, hasty love

Bought sight unseen

Stored away in dark, cool places

It becomes secret doors

Scraped away in stone

And hidden ruminations

Based on smell alone

Ragtag Daily Prompt: Gnaw

Posted in Coaching, Word Prompt

If there are no challenges, only opportunity …

If we believe every situation is an opportunity then what do we call this weeks pivotal moment?

In case you’re unfamiliar with the dumpster fire that has been US politics, let me give a brief explanation.

Trump held a rally, near the capitol, on the same day the vote was expected to be certified for Biden. He riled his followers up, as he has done for 4+ years, and they stormed the capitol. An angry mob of domestic terrorists broke into the building and vandalized it.

I watched it unfold in real time. As much as I wanted, I could not turn off the news.

I asked myself hundreds of questions.

But one recurring thought was “where are the police? where’s the national guard? These people literally have our capitol under siege.”

I know I’m not the only one who thought back to the protests in the wake of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor.

If we should find the opportunity in every situation … what was the opportunity here?

Maybe people who had told themselves Trump’s rhetoric wasn’t really that bad could finally see just how bad it is.

Maybe people finally saw systemic racism, or a lack thereof for this mob, in action.

It made me think of personal moments where things seemed dark and I wondered if sometimes the opportunity doesn’t fully show itself until afterwards. It was there, maybe we unknowingly followed it, but we didn’t realize it.

So I’m asking you, readers, how do you find the opportunity in moments that seem to have nothing but darkness to offer?

Because this was on the mind of many, I linked the RDP word of the day, mob.

Posted in stream of consciousness

We Don’t Have To Stay

Slowly this aberration emerged, a plume of thick smoke sneaking between the cracks in the wall. We were no longer welcome here.

As if the stiff lipped fear ever meant we could stay. 

A collective thought grew among us, slow and warming, passed in the offering plate from one to another and nurtured with each passing hand.

Who are we to stay? 

In the darkness we gathered what little we could claim and disconnected ourselves from this place.

Incorporating a couple of the daily words. Abberation from FOWC and emerge from RDP.

Posted in stream of consciousness, Word Prompt

You Are Not Gossamer

“My confidence is gossamer.”

“Gossamer?”

“Gossamer.”

“That guy was pretty confident I guess.”

“That guy?”

“Yeah, the heart guy. The big monster one. Like an olden days Kool-Aid man.”

“I don’t think … Gossamer is a word. It’s not a person or monster or whatever you’re talking about.”

“No offense, I know my Bugs Bunny. Maybe you mean another word?”

“Maybe you have the name wrong. My word is Gossamer.”

“Google it then. Let’s see who’s right.”

*furious typing*

“Gossamer, thin, delicate, insubstantial.”

“And, right there, Gossamer. Big red heart dude.”

“Huh. Ironic.”

“Yeah, also, have you met yourself? Your confidence is not “gossamer”. You’re not a wilting flower or silk blowing in the wind.”

RDP: Gossamer

Posted in Word Prompt

Dough Boy

I haven’t done a stream of consciousness write in a long time. I didn’t time this one.

If you haven’t read these before. This is a stream of conciousness write with very little editing (so apologies for anything that doesn’t make sense). I pick a prompt, usually a word of the day, turn on some music and just write whatever comes to my head for a set time (usually 10 minutes).

Music: Ghostpoet
Daily words: Image and Dough.

I’ve never seen anything like it.

It’s lips curve downwards and it’s nose hooks right under those skeptical eyes. Made in your image but it’s not you.

It’s soft and stretchy, moist and sticky. Strings of dough stretch from one lip to the other as it mocks my humanoid appearance. 

A spark forms in my belly and spreads like wildfire. Before I realize the scope of my ideas, my limbs begin acting. My legs carry me forth, my arms swing out wildly. My fingers pinch at its doughy arms, pulling away long pieces and tossing them into the endless span of existence below us. 

They can’t work fast enough, its sticky being pulls at the hairs on my arms and legs. Doughy fingers work their way through my hair, ripping me back. 

I could try to frantically escape but something tells me this is like quicksand. It envelops me. Moist strings pry into my mouth, holding my tongue and filling my lungs. 

You are dreaming. You are dreaming.

My jerking body flings onto the floor. Pizza boxes scatter and cower from my cries. 

I’m alive. 

A stray pepperoni sticks to the bridge of my nose. A menacing reminder encroaching on my vision. 

Maybe I’ll lay off the pizza.