Where Keri tries to write of the Sunday Scribblings prompt, “Wit”, in 143 words.
Category Archives: Three Different Ways
The Lady’s Baby Blue
Sitting by the windows, I have a clear view down the road leading up to the Lodge House. Feeling suddenly alarmed, I look away from the Brother pouring my cup of tea. Before I have turned fully, I see a glint of light from the road and hear the sound of metal rubbing against metal in a completely undesired way. My headturn completed, I am greeted to the sight of a large baby blue car sitting at a strange angle in the parking lot. The driver’s door is open, and I see a person leaning over the space between the large baby blue car, and the deep burgundy red car parked near the door.
2,964 words
Rest
With many a pattered strum and thrum,
The silent man spoke with his well worn drum.
Limber fingers did tap, smooth nails did scrape.
Into me the percussive language did drape.
146 words.
Vision: I Walked Away
(This vision occurred in early 2002. My mindset has changed since then. However, I still remember how I was then, and will write this from that point of view. It’s dominating my thoughts again, and I write it down to contain it.)
Classes were over early for the day. Don’t go to work until late tonight. Time for study. Home was too hectic with all the drama, so I went to a church friend’s coffee shop. I knew the morning rush was done, and the afternoon rush was still two hours off.
Two hours of uninterrupted study. That’s worth the price of a medium mocha.
2,635 words
Skating to Nowhere
I don’t have ice skates on. The physics of this world would make them a moot detail. It feels like I’m sliding in socks on a freshly mopped floor. But with a frozen floor. And with leather boots. I extend a leg, and with a sudden movement launch myself into a lazy single salchow jump. My cloak hugs me during the turn, and bellows slightly as I land. I have no audience to applaud me. No judges to critique me. There is only the frozen surface and me.
3,913 words
Pagan? Me?
By denotation, I’m pagan. By (popular) connotation, I’m not. By hell, I’ve stopped giving a shit.
211 words about one of Keri’s pet peeves.
The Last Sip
Having my Friday sip of alcohol (rum, today), I had forgotten this was the dregs of the bottle. I found myself at the last sip sooner than I planned. As I held it in my mouth, contemplating the sudden emptiness of the glass, I am reminded of a friend that passed on earlier this week. The sip still in my mouth began to sour in taste as I found myself suddenly reluctant to swallow.
Completing The Gift
Silly me. To think “completing the gift” would be a simple process of taking ownership. By simple, I mean like taking the car keys from the dealer. “Sign here, and here, and drop of blood here. Congratulations! Here’s your new trinket, fully equipped and ready to go!”
Bitch, please.
Horatio (as I call it publicly) pretty much lounged around in the dreamscape after that August day. Not really doing much but looking pretty on the shelf. I had overburdened myself with far too many projects, and since I didn’t know what to do with a disembodied skull, it just sat there.
Until a few weeks ago.
The Hero & The Bow
A beautiful warm day, with fluffy clouds lazily meandering across the brilliant azure sky. The sky held my attention for a while. I have never seen such a color in the heavens. No smog. No pollution. Only the triumvirate of sun, sky, and cloud.
“Have they skies such as these, Woman? You look up as if you had never seen the sky before. Are your lands so strangely different than those of Greece?” I looked to the speaker. A beautiful man, with shoulder length hair and a face full of plump contentment. I realize, while I understood the words he said, he spoke Greek to me. I knew at once, I was dreaming.
The Sunflowers Sing To Me
She sang a song of life and living, of love and loving, of strife and striving, of victory and conquering. She sang of the sweetness of her flesh, of her soul, with the abandon that comes with surrendering both to the flames. Her song woke in me a longing, an aching, a yearning, that I … Continue reading →