The line stretched for what seemed like hours. Richard and Gretchen were getting impatient as many of the children were.
Gretchen whined, “Mummy, when shall we eat? I am so hungry.” Richard punched her in the arm and called her a baby, but their mother simply smiled in her stoic way.
“Soon, children. We are nearly there.”
The line inched forward until they were at the head. Mother took the children by their arms and handed them to the Major Domo.
“Sir, here is my offering for the feasting.”
Without looking back she left the arena as the children screamed.
Photo credit: susivinh / Foter / CC BY-ND
This is my offering for Velvet Verbosity’s 100 Word Challenge. A bit darker than my normal, but it felt right for the challenge.
I have not been able to write all week – busy at work, although that is not the real reason. My mind has been filled with despair, compassion, heartbreak, love, a myriad of emotions. I don’t really need to spell out the reasons, do I?
Things have rocked our world this week – explosions man-made and explosions chemical-based. Both types cost lives: lives of the innocent; lives of the guilty; lives of first reponders. Both types cost innocence: what do you tell your children when so much chaos and blood and fire and screams flash across your television and computer screens? How do you replace that innocence?
So, I find last week’s Trifecta challenge timely in retrospect and what I posted for the challenge meaningful (at least to me):
Mama, mama, I had a dream!
Tell me, child.
When I’m grown I’m going to tell how beautiful we can be if we only love one another.
That is a wonderful dream, son.
The comments from that post were interesting – people liked the innocence-sweetness of the child. Everyone missed the reference to the Doctor and his I have a dream speech. But, even that aside . . . wouldn’t we all like to reactivate that child-like simplicity? That dream of how beautiful we can be . . . if we only love one another?
I know that dream is what allows me to sleep.
Maybe it will allow me to begin again to create – to write. Until that time, I bid you good-night and sweet dreams and peace.
Fatty, Fatty, two by four
Can’t get through the kitchen door
Taunts given by long ago classmates
Sting my eyes
As sweat drips
And I ride away the pounds
Sixty years later
Trifecta’s Weekend Challenge: This weekend we’re asking for 33 of your own words that exorcise a demon. One of your own, or one from your imagination. Let it bleed on the page.
This is a community-judged challenge. So, if you read, and like, I would be honored to receive your vote. I would encourage you to read the other entries as well. There will only be 12 hours to vote, so watch that count-down clock over at Trifecta.
October 27th, 2012 / Categories: inspiration
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She walked, limping, but unaided.
She walked, unclothed, altered.
She walked unknowing, unafraid.
Whence cameth this zombie?
Her name, it appears, is Felicia.
Gone twenty years, here now.
Stranger tales have been told.
Photo Credit: Zora Neale Hurston
The Trifextra weekend challenge tells the tale of zombies among us and asks us for our 33 words about the tale. This week’s entries will be community judged for 12 hours upon closing Sunday. Who is this community? If you are reading this, YOU are part of the community. If you could go over and read the other entries before you cast your vote, it would be ever so cool.
What are you looking for, Angela? Stop – stop and look at me. I’ll help you find it.
You can’t help me. Nobody can help me.
Angela rocked in the seat he’d chosen for her. She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked, rocked, rocked to an inner beat.
Angela, you’re safe here. Nobody here will hurt you. We’ll help you find what you’re looking for. Can you believe that? Can you see that I am telling you the truth?
Sobs burst through her tight lips.
I’m looking for ME! I can’t stop looking or the pieces will all blow away!
Lance and LeeRoy, with the help of the newly turned 8 year old “Goose” (Happy birthday!) have chosen a Counting Crows song, Come Around, this week. These are the words I came up with . . . where are yours?