First Day Out

transition

Photo: Sue Vincent

 

It’s been a long time since she was able to hold her head up.

She knew every crack in the ceiling. Every shade of light on the walls. Every spider web.

They kept the latter undisturbed.

“Let them be,” she’d asked when the housekeeper had come in one day, armed with an upended broom. The matronly women had frowned only to have understanding effuse her face with something between pity and compassion.

“You keep ’em company, then,” the housekeeper had said.

She’d cried a little after the woman had left the room, tears accumulating small pools in her ears. In them was the relief for the small thing she could still control to protect, and the hollowing despair for how much of it she’d lost, that she begs company of arachnids.

Months passed since.

The webs accumulated. Elaborated.

The seasons changed.

She watched the spiders, and found her own cobweb to hang on to and get stronger.

She learned how to control a torso that would no longer answer to her command. She found ways to manage the awful dizziness of gravity. She made peace with her chair and its straps as her adopted exoskeleton.

And she was strong enough, finally. To hold her head up.

A gentle sun licked the edge of the gate. The mostly overcast sky offered her pallid indoor skin a needed measure of protection. A glint danced on the fence’s wall and she practically felt it.

As tender and tenacious as a spider web strand.

“I’m ready,” she smiled. “For my first day out.”

 

 

 

For Sue Vincent’s WritePhoto prompt

 

 

Isolated Rest

Float2 AtaraKatz

Photo: Atara Katz

 

Not quite certain if it

Will be able to hold

The weight

Of tired swimmers,

Still it waits,

A little lopsided

And more than a tad

Tired

Itself.

 

 

For Cee’s Black & White Challenge: Isolated objects

 

The Tree

the tree amitaiasif

Photo: Amitai Asif

 

“I will wait by the tree,”

She had said.

“At the fork where

The road

Meets the lush, green

Horizon.”

Wait she did,

Day again and again

And a month, and another.

Wait until they had come

Trudging home

From the war,

Wearing smiles, but

Carrying the weight

Of their sorrows

Around them.

 

 

 

For Becca Givens’ Sunday Trees

 

Unadorned Underground

Carved Smadar Halperin-Epstein

Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein

 

In the depths

Where the colors all bleach

To the basics

Of power,

Persistence,

And life;

Lives the unadorned

Underground

Of deep water

Carving canyons

With time’s old

Stubborn knife.

 

 

For Cee’s Black & White Photo Challenge: Nature

 

Next Level Parking

High rise parking SmadarHalperinEpshtein (2)

Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein

 

In the city where stairways

And buildings rise high

No surprise that car parks

Also aim for the sky …

Be aware it will take

Some time to dislodge

So it could be a tad tricky

To race out of Dodge…

 

 

For Cee’s Black & White Photo Challenge: engines and motors

 

 

Mr. Stormled’s Undoing

 

SPF 09-23-18 Fandango 2

Photo credit: Fandango

 

“How long does she have to be here?”

I’m sure Martin’s eyebrows would’ve reached the ceiling if they weren’t tied together in a unibrow.

“Mr. Stormled said, at least a month.”

Martin twisted one side of his mouth to bite the corner of his lip, and I knew there were many words he wanted to say and wasn’t. Afraid, perhaps. Many were. There was something about people – if they were people at all – who controlled such things.

Stewart Stormled didn’t frighten me, though. At least not more than most things did. I bent to straighten the small pillow.

“Making her comfortable?”

“Can’t hurt.”

“Dad won’t like this.”

Martin had a point, but Dad wasn’t in charge of this any more. He’d given up that right when he dabbled in what he shouldn’t and left us to clean his mess. Like always.

A moment trickled by.

“You think it’ll work?” For once, Martin’s voice was small.

I sighed and traced the handle of Mr. Stormled’s broken wicker chair. “Yeah. Or Mama will remain a branch forever. Julie says that’s what happened to Grandma … last time Dad tried to use magic.”

 

 

 

For the Sunday Photo Fiction challenge

Faded Charm

door hostage PhilipCoons

Photo: Philip Coons

 

If you’re broken by worry

Hanging by a thread

Filled with dread,

There are links

That can hold

Even the weary and old,

Who then ride

The hard time

Till restored faded charm.

 

 

For the Thursday Doors challenge

 

Almost

almost AmitaiAsif

Photo: Amitai Asif

 

Still they strive

Strain to grow

Stretch to touch

Yearning so.

Almost there

But not quite

Only five

Thousand years

Till they finally

Hold hands.

 

For dVerse Poetic Tuesday

 

 

Eight Not Ate

ducks SmadarHalperinEpshtein

Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein

 

Eight brown ducks bobbing by

In the shade, under sky

Waiting for humans’ bread

To fall down on their head.

 

For August photo a day challenge

 

Big Brother

Big Brother SmadarHalperinEpshtein

Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein

 

I will go, Big Brother

To the end of the earth

After you.

In spite of fear

I will try to repeat

All you do.

But I’ll still

Just in case

Reach for

And draw courage

From you.

 

 

For the Wits End Challenge: Childhood