Through The Night

nailed amitaiasif

Photo: Amitai Asif

 

They gazed forlorn

Into the light,

Into the lumber

Burning bright.

All that they’d known

Before this plight,

Now kept them warm

Through heartache’s night.

 

 

For Sunday Stills: Night

*Dedicated to all who’d lost homes, lives, memories, and loved ones in fires and other disasters.

 

Tempting Karma

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Photo: canesjurij on Pixabay

 

“I’ll be building what?”

“Holzhausen. Firewood stacks.” Brother Joosep pointed at several rounded structures that looked like hermit huts (and that I had desperately hoped were not accommodation for trekker volunteers).

I didn’t know whether to be happy these weren’t meant as my lodging, or to be terrified at the prospect of having to produce one of those. The contraptions had to be twenty feet tall, and I could not imagine how anyone pulls out a piece of wood without the whole thing toppling on their heads. The mere thought of the Karmic penalty for causing the death of a monk was giving me palpitations.

“Do you need anyone to peel potatoes?” I tried.

The monk grinned. “Brother Ruuben, our cook, has all the hands he requires at the moment. However, we might need you to bring in some wood later. It helps ward off the evening chill.”

 

 

For What Pegman Saw: Estonia

Trivia: Holzhausen are a centuries old European method of stacking firewood. Many are about 2 meters tall (6-9 feet), though some – as in the above photo from a Monastery in Estonia – can be upward of 6 meters in height (~ 20 feet). Holzhousen are self-standing structures that are reportedly quick to make and don’t need to be braced. The circular format is not only self-supporting but provides good airflow for split wood to dry quickly. As the wood is stacked, rows are angled down slightly toward the center. This helps drain rain and melted snow and helps support the tapering of the stack.

 

The Slow Cooker

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Photo by Pixabay

 

It wasn’t going to work.

Didn’t matter. She was going to make it work. Somehow.

She threw a bit of this and that into the pot and set it. She hated that slow cooker from the day he’d given it to her. Nightmare to clean.

Down at the basement, she dug out the red four-wheeler. Dragged it upstairs. Helter-skelter added in clothing, shoes, and what-not. Grabbed her purse. Almost forgot her passport. Searched for it. Panicked. Had he hidden it?

Finally found it in a shoe box. Found money, too. Keys to who knows.

On the way out, she checked the pot. Least she could do is leave a last meal.

 

 

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Helter-Skelter in 111 words

 

Bones of Monsters

photo by sam loyd via unsplash

Photo: Sam Loyd via Unsplash

 

When she rose from the depths to where the world mirrored dark, she observed the bones of monsters no one disposed of, and the hulks of others poised to glean the phosphorescent plankton from the indigo above.

 

For Three Line Tales #156

 

Scouts Honor

Photo: © Ted Strutz

 

“Where exactly does your uncle live?”

“You’ll see.”

I narrowed my eyes. Larry relished building tension. Perhaps mandatory in magicians, but guaranteed to annoy offstage!

“This better not be a trick!” I warned.

“It’s not,” he responded. “Scouts honor.”

“You’ve been kicked out of Scouts.”

He laughed.

We traipsed through deserted woods. No house anywhere. Not even a cabin. Just scraggly trees, weeds, and a spooky car wreck. Larry made for the latter.

I followed warily, smelling trickery.

“Here,” he reached under the hood, pressed something, unveiled stairs. “Ta-da! Uncle’s Red’s subterranean house!”

 

 

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

 

Bank On Peace

peaceful evening osnathalperinbarlev

Photo: Osnat Halperin-Barlev

 

If nothing else

You can bank

On some peace

Come day’s end.

On a breath

By the water

When a ripple

Extends.

On a sigh

Of the chest

Born of awe

Seeped with ease.

You can count

On some peace

Come day’s end.

Me, too, please.

 

 

For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Bank

 

Chim-Chimney

Chimneys inbarasif

Photo: Inbar Asif

 

Old slate well licked by lichen

And marbled

With moss,

Recalls clouds swirling

High

To kiss sky

With their smoke.

Jagged edges

Of years spent in

Rain, sun

And wind,

Hold with pride

To a chimney

That time hasn’t

Yet thinned.

 

 

For The Photo for the Week Challenge: chimneys and fireplaces