Very Short Stories, Week 20

Hey everyone! Happy Labour Day, if you celebrate it!

I was enjoying the four day weekend with my hubby, but he’s fallen ill. That means constant snoring is in the background as he naps. Fingers crossed he gets better soon because it sucks when he feels so shitty!

Personally, things are starting to feel more normal since Jasper passed away. I’m crying less, but the last couple nights, he’s visited in some wonky ass dreams so I don’t know what he’s playing at!

That all means my very short stories aren’t as sad, depressing, or negativity. Some are, dare I say, hopeful.

Anyways, hope you enjoy!

 

August 27th

Lies are #tangled webs

That thrive

When the Truth

Dies

Alone and unspoken.

Lies are poison

We drink and spread

Like dinner rolls

Passed Clockwise.

Lies are the half truths

We trust to soothe Pain

That claims

Our minds

And dines on our hopes.

Lies are vicious Weaponry

We wield.

 

August 28th

His strength was a #fragile thing, hid behind stone walls made of pure silence. She longed to shatter them and cherish the words he would whisper. But he was a statue. The odd crack pierced his thick skin and his soul was beautifully broken in those moments of despair.

 

August 29th

The sweet #million tomato plant had grown beyond the garden’s borders. Its vast collection of ripening fruit blocked the zucchini plants and choked the other tomato plants. Roots provided strength to endure the storms that came and went. Yet its own weight toppled its branches.

 

August 30th

#Somewhere out there lies the reason she exists. If only she could separate it from life’s numerous obstacles. Instead, she wanders from problem to problem, fixated on everything, everyone, but her. If only the voices would stop shouting, putting fresh tears in her eyes.

 

August 31st

#Forever, she swore on their wedding day to stand by his side. His screams in bad moments didn’t deter her nor his dark days of depression. Their shared laughs and smiles united them like the knots they tied in matrimony. Together they were strong and she would remind him. Always.

 

September 1st

Street lights remained barren as the #gloaming descended. The asphalt paths were seas of black. Curtains blocked shut windows and multiple locks clicked into place. Any hint of light vanished as the people waited in fearful silence.
The scratching was heard first.

 

September 2nd

#Love is a stitch, a knot

It ties lives together

Loose or tight

Its thread can break

Wear and tear

It can be replaced

With #Love again

Tender touch

And words of care

Can repair

A broken stitch

But take heart

Best not to break

A bond of #Love

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#PicturePoetryPrompt: Gun Control

From North of the border,
I watch my American friends
suffer time and again.
A vicious cycle repeating.

Bullets fired from GUNS
are worth more than
LIVES
I hear again and again.

And yet there’s a growing chorus
Of voices.
Young
Old
Female
Male
Gay
Straight
Black
White.

They scream for CONTROL
United against a bigger threat.
They don’t want to hide
Afraid and alone
from angry people who take their rage
like tidal waves
and crash into innocents.

They want change.
Not to take all the GUNS away
But to restrict the types
Create stiffer rules.
What threat is this
to your freedoms,
My GUN owning friends?

They should be free
to feel SAFE
In a Grocery store
In a School
At a Concert
At a Hospital
At a Synagogue
At a Church

ANYWHERE.

But the NRA has friends
who view CONTROL
as an evil worse than plague
WHICH IT’S NOT.
When did your fellow Americans’ LIVES
come to mean so little?

I see this on my screens
In our papers.
As a Canadian,
I’m thankful for our GUN CONTROL.
I feel SAFE.
If only the change Americans need
would come on swift wings.
I wish you all could feel SAFE
On every day’s journeys.

You see,
I think no man, woman or child
should be afraid to leave their home
for fear of flying bullets
shot from vicious GUNS
hunting them down.

Love’s Call

Come with me,
My dearest love
My personal butterfly.
 
We’ve naught here but struggles
And I long for the sky.
 
Come with me,
My fine darling
My precious lollipop.
 
We’ve waited here too long now
And it’s time we learned to hop.
 
Come with me,
My sugar sweet
My truly, dearest friend.
 
We’ve tied our lives together
And it will be til the End.

It Consumes (An Ottava rima Poem)

Fire and brimstone in her fury filled gaze

Burning her enemies, forever scarred.

She dances around the ashes and blaze,

A wicked smile bears teeth, her face unmarred.

Death abounds, surrounds, holds her in its maze.

A game she thought to play, leaves her in shards.

For Wrath creates victims, ripping out hearts.

Lives left damaged, long after it departs.

Catching Up: A Late Night

Last night around 9pm my time, an old high school friend started a group conversation on Facebook Messenger with a couple of others that we knew from high school. It was definitely an interesting night.

In high school, I was kind of the group mom and considered a goody two shoes. I didn’t get high (never have, never will), and I wasn’t a big drinker. I helped them with school projects, gave advice, received advice. It was a couple of interesting years considering my friends were ones who enjoyed partying and getting high and dancing on the wrong side of the law (most of which I was not present for).

That said, it seems like everyone has been blown to different corners. One is currently teaching English in Korea, another is out in Alberta, another is in Halifax, and another goes back and forth from London to China from the sounds of it. Some have kids, significant others, good jobs or back in school. Most still get high and enjoy the odd party.

It is interesting to see how much and how little we have changed in that space of time. I know the instigator of the convo wants us all to get together at some time which will prove a interesting feat of organization. I’m not sure if I am good to meet up with them though.

I pretty much turfed most of those relationships at the end of high school for various reasons. I reached out to a few of them a couple years ago to apologize for that, but nothing went past that aside from one breakfast meet up.

Anyways it feels like all of them have these amazing lives or at least interesting tales surrounding their struggles. Quite a few of them did not have great home lives and are dealing with that. I just feel that my story, my time from then to now, is not as interesting. The changes in my life are more… mediocre? I guess is the word to use.

I don’t have a full time job. I put on a lot of weight from then. I don’t have a social life. I have a husband with health problems that seems serious and yet aren’t. I don’t have kids. I live in a house ready for demolition (or so it feels). I’m working on a book that I have no idea will go anywhere.

At the end of the day, I guess this online conversation reunion thingie has brought up things I wish had changed and ones I wished had not. There is nothing I can do about that now though aside from be who I want to be (not sure how well that is going to go). I can be envious of their lives or try and live my own the way I want, right?

Anyways, we will see what the future holds, as we all do in time. Take care of yourselves!

Magic

Magic swirls in dusky skies

playing fun

playing hell

On other people’s lives

And yet not many believe in it.

The power of magic

To take your pain away

Or deliver another dose of it.

It brings roses, daffodils, tulips

to Life

And at the end of the day

Snuffs out their light.

It empowers people to fight for their dreams

And also knocks those on pedestals to their knees.

Oh wonderful magic, it plays its tricks

But you best believe in it.

It may help or hinder

But it’s definitely there.

Grab hold to its tail

And dear wanderer,

Beware.