Guidance

NorthABQ

The Waystation sat open for business
Someone had spray painted “PEACE” above a door of peeling paint
Dusty railroad tracks crossed in front, no longer going anywhere
I had reached this place as a last resort

It wasn’t my original destination nor was it familiar
Gold and billowy white were more my speed
I thought I was bound for better things
With gentle, sublime music filling the empty space

Somewhere around Prescott I lost my way
I found myself following the coyote calls in the valley
The sigh of the wind among the pondersoa pine
And wound up in Chloride, AZ – sans my bags, my map, and even my shoes

But the view is grand
The sun warms my face
And the tracks remind me that all paths lead
Home


(thanks to Sunday Scribblings for the writing prompt, Guidance.  It took me in a beautiful non-direction)
(photo by BrandonStephenson)

Bright Idea

“Very cool.”

“It is, isn’t it?

“Yeah.”

“So you did it…”

“Well, yeah.  Sort of pissed-off about my hand.  Still have most of my fingers, though.”

“Yeah.”

“You know, time travel… It wasn’t what I thought it’d be.”

“For a minute there, I thought you’d be pulled apart.  You’re not doing it again, right?”

“If I do, it’s with more protection.  Shit.”

“Keep your hands inside next time.”

“Yeah.”

“Did you… ever find her?”

“Found her – she looks the same.  More beautiful because she’s 25 years younger.  I could have stayed – I was really tempted.”

“Why did you come back?”

“I had this idea… I need to test it out.  If it works, it could save her before the disease even rears it’s ugly little head.”

“That’s some frelling idea.”

“Yeah.  But I have to try.”

“Sounds like a plan”

“As long as I live through it.”

“Then live.”

(Thanks to Sunday Scribblings for this prompt…)

Word Prompt: A Secret Wish

I wrote on this week’s RWC word prompt and have included it here  (under the Writing Exercises page)… Would love to read anyone else’s take on the prompt…  Please post in the comments area or direct me to your own blog.  🙂

Prompt:  Pick a secret wish for your character, then give them the chance to see it come true.

(Source:  RWCprompts http://www.charlottedillon.com/RWC.html)

One Single Impression – Fog

by alice popkorn
photo by alice popkorn

You can speak now
I am ready; I will drink your scorpion tea.
Even this axe in my heart is
Beautiful in the mist.

Your knowing smile makes me wonder…
Have you come to offer me solace
Or to lead me astray
Again?

No matter:  I have found my center.
Alone, I see what I did not see before.
Strength steals through my soul
This fog has taught me a thing or two.

 

(OSI prompt, “Fog”) 

3 Word Wednesday

This was my first time visiting Three Word Wednesday.  I had a lot of fun with this.  For this week the words were:

Fracture
Noise
Vanish

by longhorndave
by longhorndave

I can’t write to you…

You understand, don’t you?

The silence is deafening, the tension so high.  I’m drinking tea, looking at each passing face from this salmon colored chair.  Yet all I see are images with no story.  Blurred faces vanishing into the next scene.

I would welcome the noise if I could hear it.  You told me how you needed me to say something.  You texted me your longing, yet all I can do is sit here, fractured, drumming my chipped nails against this perfect porcelain plate.

Perhaps you will leave now.  Annoyed.  Frustrated.

And I will remain, sipping this tea, inhaling its fragrance.

Welcoming a caress that you could never offer.

A Perfect Swap

To kick things off in a new direction, I’m posting a short work of fiction.  I’m going back to my roots, people!   Normally I would put this in my Writing Prompts page, but thought I’d buck convention and give you a sample of what might be there in the future.  This prompt had to do with some kind of exchange, a kind of tit for tat.  My goal was to use the prompt in an unexpected way.

———————————————————————————————

Daryl lay prone on a dirty twin mattress, arms splayed out to the side. Soured milk, half-eaten yogurt, and rancid deli meat lay forgotten on a worn table.  Like Pick Up Sticks scattered across the room, the other occupants registered euphoria to barely met desperation.

Angry welts could be seen lining both of Daryl’s pale arms through the weak afternoon sun. Sandy blond hair curled gently around his ear, caressing the latest mark on his neck. He had been tripping for about an hour when his body’s lack of oxygen forced him wide awake. Gasping, he grabbed for his throat, eyes dilating. Within in moments he started convulsing, his lips looking like a child who had eaten too many blueberries.

Turning away from some new customers, Bruce pocketed his money and walked toward the room’s only mattress. Looking down, he folded his arms across his chest and kicked Daryl in the gut. The guy was going down, he’d seen it a dozen times before. It wasn’t Daryl’s death that bothered him so much as losing a good customer; that as well as it happening in his place.

“Damn,” he said.  “Amber – we’re going to need to roll. Grab the dope and wipe the place down. I mean ALL of it. I don’t want a single print left anywhere, capiche?”

Amber looked over, nodded, and started packing the syringes first. Her pale fingers looked exotic in the gloom, like a new species of spider.  Just as she was about to leave, she noticed a shiny, gold Cross pen in Daryl’s shirt pocket. Grabbing it, she swapped the abused, bitten Bic she normally carried in its place. Patting his still warm chest, she hummed and turned out the light before she left.

The Realtor

From One Single Impression: Prompt 75: Windows

I saw her through my car window this morning…

It was the black high heels that caught my eye, the toes peeping through like painted eggshells.

Frayed blonde hair blew across her face as she stretched to adjust a sign that said,

“Open House.  Ocean View!”

If it wasn’t for the white Mercedes just a few feet away, she could have been any crazy person on the corner.

At first, I thought she was a crazy person… who would willingly stand in the dirt on a street corner under the freeway?

And then as the sun shifted, I saw the smart suit jacket.  The falling facelift, the too tight skirt.

Was it Channel No. 5 I smelled as I passed by…

Or desperation?