Out Played

Photo prompt: © Anshu Bhojnagarwala

 

“It’s an effing eyesore.”

“I don’t care.”

Martin balled his fists but Susan just gazed at him.

She said nothing but he knew: Raise a finger on me and off to jail you go. The judge was clear: Anger-Management or prison. Martin took the former but could swear Susan’s infuriating behavior intended to get him the latter.

He inhaled slowly before turning away. “When Sanitation fines us,” he growled, “it’s all yours to pay.”

“Fine,” she shrugged. “Though I think they won’t.”

He glared. “Why? Got connections?”

“Nope,” she patted the rotting piano. “I’ve registered it as street art.”

 

 

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

 

 

When The Ice Breaks

greenland icebergs-933003_1920

Photo: Barni1 by Pixabay

 

He said he’ll be home when the ice breaks.

And every day she waited, one baby tugging at her skirts and another growing restless under her heart, and tried to not look at the field of crosses planted right outside her window. Reminders of the many who the frigid sea or dark winters or the loneliness of this place at end of the world had claimed.

Some days she hated Greenland. The endless nights. The gnawing cold. The monotony of the same few faces and the bickering that eventually picked open old scabs and gauged new hurts for the next arctic dark to revisit.

Other times she couldn’t fathom living any other place. Summer’s endless light. The sparkle on the water. Pups, babies, and not-so-babies frolicking. The wide spaces full of breath and warmth that thawed old sorrows into joy. It felt like coming home.

Will he?

 

 

For What Pegman Saw: Greenland

 

Boulder Holder

Boulder holder NaamaYehuda

Photo: Na’ama Yehuda

 

Wrapping tentative fingers

That become tangled vines

Jungle trees tell the boulder:

“You’re my rock, you are mine.”

 

 

For Cee’s Black & White Photo Challenge

 

First Anniversary


 

He was coming home for the first time since and I wasn’t sure what to do with the mixture of emotions swirling in me.

Trepidation. Hope. Regret. Grief. … And woven between them the pleading thread that it will magically make it as if nothing had happened. For I wanted — oh, so wanted — to undo what could not be undone …

Nothing subdued the anxiety, so I just stood by the window and waited. For days now anything I touched and every room I’d entered was seen through his soon-to-come eyes: the new cover on the sofa, the oval mirror at the entryway that had replaced the one I’d broken in a fist of pain, the small rocking-chair just where it had always been. This window.

And the steps. The wretched spot where Ella’s head had hit so hard when she fell that the stair’s edge chipped.

“You should’ve watched her,” was all he’d said at the morgue. Or since.

Twelve months ago today.

 

 

(Wordcount: 162)

For the FFfAW writing 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

 

The Gift

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

 

She left him a gift.

She knew he wasn’t likely to acknowledge it. It was possible he wouldn’t know or care where it had come from. It didn’t matter. Or perhaps it did – and terribly – but she could do nothing to change it. Where others sought connection and cultivated relationships, her father’s world revolved around rocks, shells, sticks, pebbles, stones. Those he caressed, inspected, studied, catalogued.

She’d learned to expect nothing. It was the only way to lessen heartbreak.

She left the coral piece on the table. Perhaps if he kept it, it would be as if he saw her.

 

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

In Case Of Rain

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

 

It was their anniversary, and once again he was late.

The office manager held him up for nonsense that could’ve easily waited for tomorrow. Mr. Billings often did so when Gary was in a rush. It was a cruel little game he played, knowing that with previous ‘insubordination’ records in his file, Gary could not afford even the slightest reprimand. No job, no health insurance.

His phone buzzed as he rushed to the restaurant. A text.

“Lost?”

Mary. Gary’s heart sank. He ran faster. His phone vibrated again.

“I’m under a blue umbrella. You know, in case of rain.”

 

 

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

 

 

Notorious

 

Hard times OsnatHalperinBarlev

Photo: Osnat Halperin-Barlev

 

When you know how stress

Rewires

Little ones’ brains

To lifelong pain,

You mark yourself ever

Notorious

When you cruelly

Add

To their wounding

Day and again.

 

 

Merriam-Webster’s word for June 22, 2018:

Notorious

This post continues the blogging challenge in which Merriam-Webster’s Word of the Day, serves as inspiration a-la the “Daily Prompt.”

Want to join me? Feel free to link to this post on your blog, and/or post a link to your blogpost in the comment section below so others can enjoy it, too. Poetry, photography, short stories, anecdotes: Go for it!

For more visibility, tag your post with #WordOfDayNY, so your post can be searchable.

“Follow” me if you want to receive future prompts, or just pop in when you’re looking for inspiration. Here’s to the fun of writing and our ever-evolving blogging community!

 

Market Day

PHOTO PROMPT © Fatima Fakier Deria

 

“Where is that boy?” Hassan demanded.

“I sent your son to your father,” Um-Ali responded from below.

Her voice was calm in the way that often enraged him. As if she’s talking to a baby, he fumed.

“What were you thinking?!” he exploded. “You know I need him on market day!”

“I know you need help on market day,” she stated. “I called Mustafa.”

Her brother. Lord of bossy annoyance. Hassan glowered at his wife.

She chuckled. “You look exactly as Ali had this morning when he thought he’d have to go with you.”

 

 

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers June-22-2018

Furry Halfling

chika OsnatHalperinBarlev

Photo: Osnat Halperin-Barlev

 

Half-wildling

Half-tame

She sometimes

Knew her name.

One moment she’d hiss

The next she would purr

To allow or dismiss

You from stroking her fur.

 

 

For The Sunday Stills Furry & Feathered Friends Challenge