Open Heart

20220503_123140You opened your heart

exposing vulnerability

laid bare hopes, dreams, fear.

You welcomed unreservedly

risked hurt

your light shone bright.

You stood tall, strong yet fragile

You sought communion, connection

You called to life

Your day in the sun is too short

Your view of the future curtailed

As the sun moves away

As light leaves the day

So too, you retreat

Slave to a seasonal beat.

Friday Fictioneers – The Cannibal

#rochellewisofffields #flashfiction #fridayfictioneers

Photo prompt by David Steward

Yahoo and Yum!

This cannibal exults

Omnivorous delight

Such complaisance.

For now the neighbourhood is safe

With feast proportioned on a plate

No need to hunt, the cook consumed

Topped off with gourmet victuals.

Rest easy world because too soon

This banquet but a memory

Hunger returned, hunting I’ll go

With gourmet expectations.

Standards set, I now must hunt

in eateries most domestic

And choose as prey, a chef gourmet

My tastes now more eclectic.

Five star ratings

High class baking

Human meat, now marinating.

Salivation, delectation

Gobble, guzzle, binge, devour.

Yahoo

Yum

Me. [94 words]

***

Thank you Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for continuing to set this 100 word (or less) challenge. It is certainly a commitment appreciated by many. Other 100 word stories can be read here.

Simply 6 Minutes – Soft Skin

image-6

What can I say that hasn’t been said

Grow a thick skin, give up or play dead

Friends say they’ve the hide of a rhino

I’m the absorbent amphibian

I should have evolved with experience and age

But somehow my heart keeps on breaking

Like a child I stand there and quake

A weakness I wish I could shed

I need to develop thick skin as an armour

Against a hard world, to protect

Soft and porous not a warrior makes

So I struggle, absorbing sharp barbs

When I lay on death’s bed, finally armour-plated

Hardened, impervious, insensitive

By that time I’ll not care, pushed aside all despair

And laugh in the face of the haters

Until then, I will work on the callouses

A hard shell, tough hide, unfeeling

Until then, I don’t know how to live in this world

Without constantly shrivelling [6 minutes, 144 words]

***

Thanks to Christine at Stine Writing for this weekly challenge. To write whatever you can in six minutes using the prompt provided.

Letter to my boy

A boy needs his mum, in good times and in bad. Even when you don’t think you should

They say, no man is an island, but he can certainly be a turtle. Head tucked in, solid defensive shell a guard against the world.

In times of stress you don’t need to be alone, to pretend that all is grand. When things are tough, look to home.

No matter what your age, we’re on the same page. Zero to 100, we’ll be with you if you let us. Push us away and you’ve missed a beat.

I need to be strong can make you seem weak. Because, no man is an island. And your family knows that.

Even when you’re grown. No longer at home. Reluctant to moan.

If you feel alone, perhaps you are. You choose to be.

If you can’t see the light, come back to the heart.

Mum might seem gruff, inclined to be intense. But when things are tough, she’s your strong defence.

No. Man. Is. An. Island.

An oldie but a goodie. These clichés stand the test, when you aren’t at your best. When you need safe harbour. Someone on your side. When you need a team to conquer all – don’t let pride divide.

You weaken your position, when support is diluted. When you hesitate to ask – for help.

We know you’re an adult, only want to share success.

Let us in and back to back, we’ll find your best self.

Together.

No man is an island, my son.

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Three Things Challenge #891 – Tigger

Di presents the Three Things Challenge every Thursday.

We are give with three things that may, or may not, be related. Simply read the prompt and see where your creativity takes you.

You can use one, two or all three words in your post, there are no restrictions regarding length, style, or genre apart from keeping it family friendly.

Remember to tag responses with 3TC, #threethingschallenge or #TTC and add the logo if you wish.

ADULT
CHILD
OFFSPRING

***

I’m supposed to be the adult, I thought as I scoffed the tub of Cookies and Cream.

I rinsed the tub and threw it into the recycling bin.

Then bounced around on a sugar high, singing and dancing around with a broom.

My husband asked, ‘where’s your off spring?’

You mean off switch?

‘I mean off spring. You’re like a Tigger right now.’

Boing, boing, I said, laughing.

‘Such a child,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Where’s my ice cream?

Six Sentence Stories – Book

The book is my friend in sickness and in health. It comforts and informs, whispers as it speaks. Invites me to visit in search of what I need; succour, hope, adventure or delight. It waits with bated breath, and never refuses. Breathes easily when its own needs have been met.

To be known, to be held, to be useful, add meaning.

* * *

Welcome to Six Sentence Stories! Blog Hop Rules: Write 6 sentences. No more. No less. Use this week’s prompt word: BOOK Read everyone’s story, comment, share and have fun!

Friday Fictioneers – Fever Italiano

#rochellewisofffields #flashfiction #fridayfictioneers

Photo prompt by Anne Higa

Ah, pizza.

Que?

Pizza. In my belly.

Amigo, que tal?

Bolognese, and Parmigiano-Reggiano.

My friend, you are delirious. Loco.

Your mouth is dripping. Your eyes are cross-legged.

Dolce. Gelato.

You are becoming el demonio, mi amigo.

Now, I am a-worried.

What are you saying?

FEED ME! Now!

Bueno. A Kit-Kat?

That’ll do me [53 words]

Friday Fictioneers Challenge Note

Thank you Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for continuing to set this 100 word or less challenge. It is certainly a commitment appreciated by many. Other 100 word stories can be read here.

Simply 6 Minutes – Look at me

#simply6minutes

I am beautiful.

On the surface, so tough.

On the inside, soft as velvet.

See my soul fly, with the wings of a butterfly.

See them flutter.

See them float.

See the display of colour.

In my heart

I am fleet

I can float

I can touch, soft and tender, on fragile petals.

In the world

I am hard

Tough as leather

Thick as tree trunks.

What I touch breaks

My steps destroy

My feeding needs, rapacious

Yet, I nurture my young

Wish for their future

for a lightness, love, safety

The freedom to fly,

bright as a butterfly. (99 words, 6 minutes)

Simply 6 Minutes Challenge Note

https://christinebialczak.com/2020/07/14/simply-6-minutes-writing-challenge

  • Set up a timer or sit near a clock so you can keep track of the six minutes you will be writing.
  • You can either use one of the prompts (photo or written) or you can free-write.
  • Get ready and write for 6 minutes, that is it! Can you write a complete story? Can you think of a new Sonnet? Can you write 400 words? 400? 500? There are no restrictions on what kind of writing you do, but you should try to be actively writing for six minutes.
  • After you are done writing, include your word count and then post back to this page #Simply6Minutes or include your link in the comments section. Pingbacks are enabled.

Simply 6 Minutes – Demented

#simply6minutes; #flashfiction

Photo prompt for Simply 6 Minutes

They’re always captured by my eyes.

The first thing they notice. How alive. How human.

The pathos.

Then they notice that I’m some sort of hybrid zebra-dog.

I want to say to them ‘pay attention’. I am in here.

Let me out!

Oh, you beautiful girl, they say. Oh, let me get a look at you. You beautiful thing, you.

She looks so sad, someone will add. Smoothing my head and stroking my ears.

I am sad! I’m screaming at you to please help me.

Trapped by a witch’s curse. Tormented by worry.

How are my children. Do they think I’ve left them?

How will I ever return.

One day I’ll bite. And they’ll be all, oh no. She needs to be put down.

And so, I remain patient, passive. I can’t afford to lose it.

But each day passing, means another day without my loved ones.

And them without me. Their mother. Their wife.

Oh, look. I think she’s crying, one says. Do dogs cry?

This one does. Every single lonely day.

And I have to shit on newspaper and eat disgusting crap from a tin.

And communicate with whines and barks.

The witch said, if your husband repairs his way, you will be freed.

I don’t know what he’s done. I don’t know if he will repent.

But if I ever see him again, he is done for!

He thought I nagged before.

He’ll wish I’d never returned. [240 words – 6 minutes]

 

Simply 6 Minutes Challenge Note

https://christinebialczak.com/2020/07/14/simply-6-minutes-writing-challenge

  • Set up a timer or sit near a clock so you can keep track of the six minutes you will be writing.
  • You can either use one of the prompts (photo or written) or you can free-write.
  • Get ready and write for 6 minutes, that is it! Can you write a complete story? Can you think of a new Sonnet? Can you write 400 words? 400? 500? There are no restrictions on what kind of writing you do, but you should try to be actively writing for six minutes.
  • After you are done writing, include your word count and then post back to this page #Simply6Minutes or include your link in the comments section. Pingbacks are enabled.

Slow Suicide

Shoot me now.

20210108_192734
By Trish. Prickly, alone.

He gets a laugh, the famous comic.

No topic is taboo.

Mixed colours with whites.

Stayed out all night.

Played poker with the boys.

Made too much noise.

See this manly rotund tum? Beat a bass line on that drum.

Get grief there too.

You’re getting fat.

I don’t love you looking like that.

She says.

Shoot. Me. Now.

I sit. I listen. Take it all in.

Heart and soul alerted.

I hear my laugh. My face, it smiles.

My secret self, inverted.

We’re all dying, the comic calls.

It. Is. The curse of living. 

Enjoy that beer, that glass of wine.

A second bowl of pudding.

So, you get fat. Can’t leave the couch.

Feed blocks of chocolate through your mouth.

Your girl might leave. She’s hard to please. 

Your dog will stay. His love’s for free.

You’re gonna die. You gotta live.

It’s your choice on how that is. 

Shoot. Me. Now.

Tears find a trail down to my chin.

Drop to a lap that isn’t slim.

I graze and nibble treats, all day.

Pure sugar, carbs, all have their way.

My loathsome lack of self-control.

The need. The want. They hijack thoughts.

Disease, the doctor says. Of course.

Permission now to stay this course.

Surrender. Submit.

Obesity’s shit.

Constantly eat. Feed cancerous cells.

That kind of living does not end well.

I laugh out loud.

Shoot. Me Now.