C. 2017. Lee McQuinn. All Rights Reserved.
I was speaking with someone earlier in the week about a poem and song I wrote for Poppa Bear. Today, would have been his birthday, so it’s not been the best of days. I pulled out my journal and reread over the poem, and pulled out my F# flute and played the song (made a few adjustments in the process). I haven’t written poetry since 2012, so it feels rusty and difficult to compose… almost torturous…
Poppa Bear’s favorite cry was “ROAR”, a cry I’ve taken up for myself when faced with something that seems overwhelming. A reminder to ‘roar’ through it and keep moving. Running in helle can be mighty hot, but that cool oasis up ahead looks mighty inviting… just gotta get there!
Anyway, here are the words to the poem, in case you can’t read it…
List to sorrow’s song
held deep and long
touching the very depth of souls
without solace –
list now to sorrow’s song
for soon your soul
shall ache with pain
that knows no solace,
except within the strains
of sorrow’s mournful song.
C. Ted Strutz
‘Spin the wheel! Make your future!’ The Carnie called out.
I paused, looking at his game. ‘Make a future?’
‘Spin the wheel! Make your future!’ He reitterated like the automaton he was.
‘Oh, well, couldn’t hurt, could it?’ I shrugged, dropping my token in the slot.
Slowly, the wheels and cogs began to turn. Sparks flew, colored lights flashed and winked. I stared, thoroughly entertained as an electrical eddy opened up in front of me.
‘Just step through.’ I heard the automaton say.
Now, I wish I hadn’t. This new reality was worse than the last.
This work of fiction is written as part of the Friday Fictioneers 100 word writing challenge hosted weekly by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-fields. If you’re up to a good challenge, or even a really awesome reading experience, these little stories are well worth your time. A Huge thank you goes to Ted Strutz for his photo this week. Come on out and join us at: https://rochellewisoff.com/ . We’d love to see you around the table.
PHOTO PROMPT © Björn Rudberg
‘Seriously?’ She asked with a tentativeness borne of disbelief.
‘Seriously. Just pick one. It’s yours.’ He smiled, gesturing to the hats.
Looking from him to the hats and back again, she gulped back fear. She didn’t get gifts. Reaching out while keeping one eye on the young man, she slowly pulled one of the hats off the table. It was brightly colored and brought a smile to her face. She looked up with tears in her eyes.
‘It’s yours.’ He winked at her. ‘Merry Christmas.’
‘Thank you.’ Grinning, she plopped it onto her head and ran for the door.
This work of fiction is written as part of the Friday Fictioneers 100 word writing challenge hosted weekly by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-fields. If you’re up to a good challenge, or even a really awesome reading experience, these little stories are well worth your time. A Huge thank you goes to Björn Rudberg his photo this week. Come on out and join us at: https://rochellewisoff.com/ . We’d love to see you around the table.
Ten years ago, almost to the day, our home was broken into. What wasn’t stolen was shattered and destroyed. The inside of our home looked a bit like the Island of Baruba after the hurricane. One of the worst of the losses was my Menorah that had been brought all the way from Jeruselam, Isreal for me by one of our church’s missionaries. It was much beloved and treasured.
Today, I hear a knock at the door, looked through the peep as spied the FEDEX delivery guy. I opened the door and said “I didn’t order anything.”. He said, “You’ve got something here sent by a “YWH”, so it says here.” And he handed me the box. “Merry Christmas!” and he left standing there, holding this mysterious package.
I went inside, Saw the Hanukkah stickers, and decided to open it. Inside, I found this beautiful Menorah. There was also a coffee mug dressed in a santa coat, and the current FLOW magazine that focuses on grieving loss. I looked at the return address again… All it said was “YWH”. Hmmm, I says, hmmm… So, it has to be someone who knows what has happened in the last week, but who… and, it’s got to be someone who spells God “YWH”, too. Maybe a Jewish friend…. maybe a Christian friend…? Doesn’t really matter… I just wanted to through out there a huge thanks! This morning, reality set in and I was feeling especially down. This package came at just the time I most needed to feel a little loved. So, whoever you are, Thank YOU! Shalom & Amen!
“Old Lame Bear” Bill C.
Dearest friends, A very real moment here. I woke to the news that my dearest and best warrior brother has walked on to heaven’s shores. He was more than just an average foster dad to me… he was the only one in my life that ever loved me with unconditional love, and was there to pick me up when I fell hard and couldn’t get myself back up (in all senses of that phrase). When we were together we were called the “three bears” Him, Old Lame Bear, Me Little Lame Bear, and his lifesized stuffed bear ‘Tansy’. That is my last memory, Momma Sharon taking a picture of us together. Sorry to babble on so… just hurting so much at the moment. Here’s his picture…
Please forgive word count and lack of prompt. Just wanted y’all to know why I’ve been absent…
Statues within the gardens of Versailles, France compliments of Google Images.
The statues hidden deep within the palace maze were the only thing that survived the attack unharmed. For many decades, they stood untouched by man, forgotten, lost to the overgrown landscape that flourished without man to hold it back. Then, man returned.
Now, the crumbling steps had been restored using the rubble from the palace itself. The statues had been cleaned and restored to places of honor. But the feelings of a lost culture remained. No one knew who had designed the sculptures of alien forms or the stories behind them. They were a relic of the Earth’s past, preserved only a glimpse into culture before the great war… before the even greater peace.
Today, students looked at the small garden and contemplated what it must have been like to live in stone buildings, to build such sculptures, to live such lives… and they prayed for their own futures.
Thank you once again goes to What Pegman Saw for taking us to a new place we’ve never been, this week to Palace of Versailles, France. If you’ve enjoyed this little story, then please, come out and enjoy some others at: https://whatpegmansaw.com/blog/ . Just follow the prompt tag to the little blue frog… your adventure awaits.
It’s december. I’ve sat back and read over what I wrote for Nano last month. To say that I’m less than enthused would put it mildly. I am so upset that I trashed most of the 70K that I wrote, keeping only less than 200 words – the prelude, to be specific. Oh, I kept two of the main characters names and personalities…the rest…well, it’s gone! Good riddance! A pigeon-holed plotline.
So, now, I’m going slower… much, much slower. It’s taken me a week to garner 1k. But, that 1k is good! Or, so I believe.
For all of you who were upset by the destruction of the stained glass window and the decimation of the choir… sorry, they’re still there. But then, it is a plotline of Hope and Faith… So, back to the keyboard I go…