Tag Archives: Thoughts

What we Are

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Copyright – Claire Fuller

If a mirror existed that showed us our reflection, not as we appear, but as we feel; a pure reflection of our souls; what would I look like in such a glass? A rumbling volcano? An explosion of raging lava at a word said in a misjudged time? A spluttering of ash at a phrase uttered in a misused tone? But I guess it would be a mild volcano; no Vesuvius.  Unsteady, yes, and explosive, but fading quickly; an Etna maybe.

You? What would your reflection be, my love? A statue made of marble, perhaps?

Emotionless, no explosions; cold to the touch, like marble?

All logic, no splutterings; clean and flawless, like marble?

—

For Friday Fictioneers.

The Rendezvous

I met him once on my way to work.  He was as expected; tall and thin, his figure bent by age, leaning on a scythe.   His face was hidden by the black cloak, greening with age.

‘You can’t have come for me!’ I said.  It wasn’t a question.

‘And why not?’ His was.

‘Because I’m too young.  I still have much to do!’

‘Like what?’

I stopped and thought for a while.  ‘Well, I’m on my way to work.  Can’t just leave without notice.  How would my boss cope?’

He paused and didn’t speak for a long while.

‘Have it your way then.  I’ll take you later.’

**

He was waiting for me again on my way from work to home.

Continue reading →

The Knowing Arch

When leaves turn gold,

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Copyright -Jennifer Pendergast

I know that their time has come.

With roses for cheeks

And chirping laughter,

I watch them enter in loud hordes.

 

The sky grows dark,

Eclipsed by pearly clouds.

Fragile branches sag under heavy ice;

Bags droop under tired, learned eyes.

I watch as hordes become silent clusters.

 

Snow melts. Unveils

Emerald leaves no longer burdened.

With roses back on their cheeks,

Straight backs, relieved shoulders,

I watch as one by one they leave, triumphant.

Continue reading →

The Land of Opportunities

‘Your mama is so fat, that—’
A long, low booing resonated from the audience.
‘Okay! okay…Have you ever heard of the koi who was coy with his wife?’
‘Get off the stage!’
‘No, no wait…Okay; man walks in a bar—‘
Whizz. Glass shattered on the stage.
Damian ran out of the theatre for his life. He sat in the dark alley next to the backstage door analyzing the scribbled list in front of him.
‘Garbage Collector’ was next.
A man’s voice startled him; ‘How much for half an hour?’
Damian froze for a second, then shrugged. No reason ‘Male Prostitute’ shouldn’t be on that list.

koi

Copyright – Douglas M. MacIlroy

—

For Trifecta and Friday Fictioneers. Two in one; economizing in this economy.  The word given by Trifecta is: BOO – 3 (verb) to show dislike or disapproval of someone or something by shouting “Boo” slowly. Friday Fictioneers, on  the other hand, gave us the lovely picture above.

Under the Carob Tree

There were once three men who used to sit on the bench shaded by the carob tree at the far corner of the square.  They were much younger than the tree, albeit as wrinkly and bent by age as its bark.

Everyday their vigil began right after the seven-thirty mass. They sipped English tea in a tall glass at eight-thirty, then bread and cheese at ten. The bench under the carob tree would be empty between twelve and two; which was precisely the span  of time it took the sun to graze the wooden bench before its rays were eclipsed by the second house on the left. Continue reading →

Journey’s End

A dark wave broke against the boat, tilting the starboard lip precariously close to the waterline; not for the first time, nor for the hundredth time.  The boat rocked on, cradling our nausea, nourishing our fear.

We were no seamen, not a single one of us. And yet, here we were; fourteen souls packed tight on a piece of wood barely qualifying for the term ‘boat’.

Adjoa screamed; a sound that cut through the thunder and made my insides hurt.

‘Shut that pie-hole, woman!’

Eniola sent a poisonous look in Paki’s direction and shifted slightly, barring Adjoa from Paki. He had been raising one hell after another since we left Libya, but Eniola had so far managed to contain him. Continue reading →