Lip Service

assorted hanged clothes near white light bulb

Photo: Henry & Co. on Pexels.com

 

“Oh, but you will love this!” the seller gushed, her purple tipped pixie cut bobbing in time with the movement of her thumbs on the screen.

“Do you really think so?” the matronly woman twirled tentatively in front of the mirror, unaware that the saleswoman hadn’t even raised her head.

“Absolutely!”

“I’m worried the color is too bright,” the woman fretted and patted down frizzy wisps of hair long past the time for touching up. She smoothed the folds of the dress over her midriff. “Also, I don’t know about the pattern. Don’t you think it is too young for me?”

The saleswoman paused in her staccato typing long enough to glance at her customer. She stilled a yawn. Less than an hour before she could close, return the piles of discarded tried-on clothing to their hangers, and be free from the need to constantly reassure strangers that they looked better than they did or could.

“This color is all the rage,” the seller noted in the half-petulant, half-coercive tone she’d found tended to move her less assertive customers into feeling that to not buy the item would somehow mean they were backwards, dated, or wasting her time.

A long moment passed. More preening from the customer.

“It does not really work with my coloring,” the woman frowned. “Or is this just the lighting here?”

Not much would work with your coloring, the seller swallowed a retort. “It is all about the right combinations,” she said instead. She plastered on a smile, put her phone down, opened a jewelry box, and pulled out a small black tube.

“Here, let me,” she added, twisting an orange mass out of the bottom part of the tube and reaching for the woman’s chin. “All you need is the right lipstick.”

 

 

For Linda’s SoCS challenge: Lip

 

 

Fraud Code

black and white childhood children cute

Photo: Pixabay on Pexels.com

 

She caught her sister’s eye and an unspoken understanding passed between them.

They’d perfected their “Fraud Code” through years spent in the shadow of a charlatan, and it took nothing more than a gaze for them to signal – and validate to each other – recognition of ‘another one.’

Their childhoods’ costs aside, at least they could sniff out similar quacks from afar.

 

 

For the Weekly Writing Prompt: Charlatan in 61 words

 

 

Line In The Water

Line in the water NaamaYehuda

Photo: Na’ama Yehuda

 

Draw a line in the water

To hold a boundary

For speed,

Where the motors

Rush inward,

For horizon

To meet.

 

Float a line strung together

Of what floats

And won’t sink,

So you can

After sunset

Draw it home

And night

Concede.

 

 

For Cee’s Black & White Photo Challenge: In or on the water

 

 

Overreach

Photo prompt © Roger Bultot

 

“I never meant to hurt you.”

Samuel’s words were sincere and still she found herself looking away as to not see his eyes, where a lie was sure to peek.

“The gardener should’ve never let this grow so,” she responded.

Samuel stilled, confused.

She did not explain, for perhaps it was not only the leafy fingers arching over the path and latching onto her living quarters that had been given leave to cross beyond what was sensible.

“Some bridges need be cut,” she added cryptically. “Good-bye, Samuel. Will you send the gardener to my drawing room on your way out?”

 

 

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

 

 

Uniquely Rolled

handmade ChagitMoriahGibor

Photo: Chagit Moriah-Gibor

 

Roll the dough

And aim to shape it.

Press chocolate pieces

One by one.

‘Tis no product of

Machine identical,

But cookies proud

Of a child’s hand.

 

 

For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Roll

 

 

Cute Factor

Puppy ToniHadi

Photo: Toni Hadi

 

He was born without home

And no prospect of more

But his adorability-factor

Ensured

He’d capture good hearts

Galore!

 

 

For Cee’s Black & White Photo Challenge: Cute factor

 

 

That Night

Photo Prompt: © Ronda Del Boccio

 

That night, when the children went missing, they fanned out, flashlights in hands and a dark crawling about in their hearts, which even the large projector brought out by the local sheriff’s office could not stop the spread of.

They looked in every corner, under brambles and in culverts and in places too small to hide a squirrel, let alone a child. The three had vanished so completely, one could have believed they had been naught but phantoms.

Yet phantoms wouldn’t have left canyons in souls, eroded deeper with the daily grief. For the kids were never found.

 

 

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

 

 

Roll Control

handbrake SmadarHelperinEpshtein

Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein

 

When the push

Comes to shove

And a full stop

Recommended,

Put a rock

‘Hind to lock

So any roll

Is suspended.

 

 

For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Roll

 

 

Out-Wheeled

Out-wheeled NaamaYehuda

Photo: Na’ama Yehuda

 

At the spot

Where one heart stopped

And others pause

To ponder,

It stands

Out-wheeled into pallor

In grief

For what was lost

And what might have been

If there hadn’t the need

To mark this

Post

For a life that can

No longer

Wander.

 

 

 

Click here to find more information about Ghostbikes.

For Cee’s Black & White Photo Challenge: Wheels

 

Our Review for Emilia by Na’ama Yehuda #Psychological Fiction @NaamaYehuda

Reblogging this because … well … 😉
Thank you, Jaye and Anita!

anita dawes and jaye marie

51dllSBu-jL._UY250_.jpgIt is the late 1800s. A young child is kidnapped by her tutor and secreted into seclusion, muted by terror. Will she find sanctuary, and her voice, before it is too late and she is silenced forever? Can anyone she risks to trust, truly protect her? What if safety is only an illusion and nightmares come alive?

As the child’s trail goes cold, Mark Monsey, police officer, remains haunted by it. In spite of little departmental support, he doggedly follows what clues he has. Crisscrossing the county from isolated lighthouses, estates, and groundskeeper’s cottages, to limestone caves, spooky cellars and dreary train stations, he becomes increasingly aware things are not what they seem and he is being deceived.

Can he find the truth, and will it matter when storm clouds and death spread faster than any of them can foresee?

Our Review

We first meet KayAnne Brisbane travelling on a…

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