Habitat is shrinking and food is rare
Necessity trumps nature, in change is welfare
They’ve started to hunt in packs, even the polar bear
In response to Sonya’s Three Line Tales, Week 98 challenge
, based on a photo by Caterina Sanders via Unsplash
Call me vain, but I’m quite aware of my classic French looks.
Thanks to goods genes and careful grooming, I am often told that I look more like a model than a businessman, so when women give me a second look, or when the air-hostess serves me with that extra smile, I take it as a compliment. I enjoy the attention.
But a man staring at me unflinchingly, and un-smilingly, is rather unnerving. I try not to look, focusing instead on my drink, not particularly enjoying this attention.
As we get ready to disembark, I see him pull out his white cane.
Now I stare.
In response to Bikurgurl’s 100 Word Wednesday: Week 49 challenge
, based on a photo by John Luke Laube
In response to Frank’s Tuesday Photo Challenge, a humorous take on the seasons four…
Hot days are past
Winter is here
Frost Giants aren’t real
But sleet’s a real fear
We rake leaves no more
Instead we get to shovel snow
The lakes are filling
The flowers start to bloom
A burst of colour
No more winter gloom
But good days pass fast
and sun’s about to blast
Great ball of fire
Even without budging
I still do tire
Will all the perfumes of Arabia
not camouflage this odor of mine!
The trees are shedding
making a really pretty mess.
Too bad I cant say the same
about the shedding of my tress.
Tis the perfect season for my bones old.
Its not too hot, and its not too cold.
He adored her.
To him, she was the world’s best sister. Anything she wanted, she got.
When they were four, mama asked her, “What do you want for Christmas, Annie?”
“A doll house for me, and a tea set for Adam.”
“Don’t you think Adam should choose his own gift!”
“A tea set for me,” Adam affirmed.
“You’re the world’s best brother,” she said, giving him one of her bear-hugs.
For her 8th Christmas, she got a pink bike, while Adam got one in red. When she decided that his was better, he swapped without hesitation.
“You’re the world’s best brother,” she swore.
Before her 12th Christmas party, he spent the entire day with her at the mall, helping her pick her special dress, and accessorizing it.
“You’re the world’s best brother,” she squeezed his hand.
On her 16th Christmas, she caught him wearing her favourite red lace panties.
“You’re a sick freak,” she screamed. “Get out of my room.”
They did not celebrate Christmas next year.
Mama went to the cemetery after church. Dad just stayed at the bar.
© Eric Wiklund
In response to the December 10th Sunday Photo Fiction challenge
Oblique comments – how I hate them.
They leave you tethering on the precipice. Not direct enough that you can tell the speaker to piss off, and yet not so subtle that you miss their meaning. They leave you with such a bitter taste.
Would I rather that they just come out and say it? I don’t know about that either. There are far too many people who think that they can get away with being rude, simply by claiming that they are being frank. Mind you, frank is rarely a two way street.
As someone who has always avoided any form of confrontation, I suppose I should take oblique over frank. At least this way I can simmer and run through a mind-blogging arsenal of quick and witty retorts in my head, that I could have said if only they had been explicit. Frank, leaves me with only one excuse. I am the more polite person, which sorta makes me feel like the spineless gutless coward.
Ideally I would like every one to just mind their own business. Everyone should be very polite to everyone all the time. But where am I going to find that ideal world!
Badge by J-Dub @ https://jilywily.wordpress.com/
In response to the Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday: “liqu.”
You may lock me up and hide me away.
You may keep me from coming out to take my place.
But as long as even a glimmer of sun shines through,
I will rattle my cage… I will rattle my cage…
In response to Three Line Tales, week 97, based on a photo by Bogdan Dada via Unsplash
Words of wisdom passed down by my grandfather.
He passed away when I was two.
I am told that he was an avid reader of history and philosophy, and knew at least nine different languages. I wish I had had the opportunity to get to know him.
In response to Frank’s Tuesday Photo challenge – Message
Photo Prompt © Dale Rogerson
Spring has left, and taken the colours with her.
Soon winter will arrive to shroud the earth.
Then even their headstones will no longer be seen.
The lights of Christmas will no longer twinkle for me.
There will be no songs, no gifts under a tree.
What had been, will no longer be.
And because my heart is frozen, autumn cries for me.
Image © bigbenalpha via deviantart
In response to Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers challenge of 8th December
based on a photo by Dale Rogerson.
Turn right. Turn right.
There. That road is beautiful. Look at the enthralling trees and vibrant wild flowers. Picture perfect.
But… we need to go straight.
Please baby. It’s like the entrance to some enchanted fairy tale.
I don’t know, hon. This doesn’t even show up on the map. We don’t know where it goes.
Baby, we are on vacation. You need to relax. Let’s just go where our heart leads us. Pretty please.
And so they turned… and drove on and on and on… down the unending road; because not every fairy tale has a happy ending.
In response to Bikurgurl’s 100 Word Wednesday: Week 48 challenge
, based on a photo by Trevor Cole
I don’t normally rummage through garbage. Specially not if its a filthy cardboard box in what could potentially (read that as probably) be a bio-hazard dumpster.
Today I did.
I rolled up my sleeves, looked around for anything that could substitute for gloves, managed to find one plastic bag, looked for another, eventually gave up, and simply dug in with two bare hands. After all I have 24 hours to take a tetanus shot.
There are laws against driving with a kitten without a carrier, but I’d rather pay the fine than leave her behind.
Something tells me that after one look into those beautiful yellow orbs, the cop’s gonna give me a pass.
In response to Priceless Joy’s 144th Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers challenge
based on a picture by Enisa.