A Broken Wing

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(Photo: Michael Carruth on Unsplash)

 

They stumbled

Broken

On the wind,

Dragging behind

A shattered wing.

Still chanting with

The roar of

Mobs,

Dispersed a faction

That from the

Truth’s been

Robbed.

Their memory

Fogged

By lie’s

Remorse,

Will they attempt to

Correct course?

 

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Faction in 39 words

 

Newfound

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(Photo: Jon Tyson on Unsplash)

She lay in bed and let the day’s words wash over her.

A soft stream in the mayhem.

“You’re a tenacious child,” her teacher said, eyes smiling. “You’ve tried and tried and made this grade your own. Not everyone would have continued, but you did. I am so proud.”

Tenacious, she mouthed into the dark and tuned off shouts and thuds and cries. So proud, she curled into the glow of newfound understanding.

 

 

For Sammi‘s Weekend Writing Prompt: Tenacious in 73 words

 

Tested

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Photo: Andy Feliciotti on Unsplash

 

Perhaps they did not know when it would come, or what it would require to what end. But they had to know they’d face the crucible that will reveal a moral fiber, if they had one.

They’d have to choose then: good or bad, peace or harm, truth or falsehood.

It would appear an easy choice, to go for better judgment. And yet they had so tangled themselves in the net of lies, that extrication meant losses they weren’t quite prepared to reap. Not when they hoped for revenue from crouching behind flags of insurrection.

They capitulated.

Dark history, revisited.

 

 

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Crucible in 100 words

 

 

A Marginal Way

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(Photo: Karen Forte)

 

At the very fringe

Of hope,

And even as embers

Of warmth

Barely flickered,

A marginal way

Lived on

In her heart,

Its waves crashing

Full of breath

Against

Life’s rocks.

 

 

 

For Sammi‘s Weekend Writing Prompt: Marginal in 31 words

 

Back In Time

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Photo: Ronan Furuta on Unsplash

 

After years of failure, ridicule, he was finally ready.

To find out the truth. About himself. About where he’d come from. Where he would’ve belonged.

He turned the dial. Held his breath. Grasped the handles. Stepped on the lever.

The world spun.

Time thumped.

A banshee screamed in his ear. Perhaps the wind. Perhaps his own voice.

When vertigo subsided, he swallowed bile. Inhaled. Opened his eyes.

A man in furs crouched near him. Spear in hand.

Boron’s heart flooded with relief and delight.

He knew it!

He was, down to his DNA, a troglodyte.

 

 

 

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Troglodyte in 95 words

 

Waiting

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(Photo: Martha Dominguez de Gouveia on Unsplash)

 

He drooped as hours

Lingered

Without any

News.

He tried to read but

Worry clogged his

Views.

He paced awhile but

Found his feet too heavy

As his hope grew

Weak.

The moments stretched

Their languid

Endless

Streak.

“It’s done,”

A soft voice filtered

To him

Through the mist.

“She’s resting comfortably.

So is your newborn son.”

 

 

 

For Sammi‘s Weekend Writing Prompt: Languid in 57 words

 

Not Long Now

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(Photo: Wilhelm Gunkel on Unsplash)

 

He failed but would not let it go.

He would not let things rest.

He has to prod and press and woe

In niggling senseless tests.

 

He cannot accept evidence.

He contradicts all fact.

His weakness grows in petulance

Yet haggle seems he must.

 

A pity he’s so insecure.

His desperate noisome pouts.

Yet reason in most still endures

And his time will soon run out.

 

 

For Sammi‘s Weekend Writing Prompt: Niggle in 66 words

 

Windmills

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(Photo: CHUTTERSNAP on Unsplash)

 

So he shouts

At the wind

For blowing

To where he did not

Want it,

And demands

Others swear

There’s no wind

Because he’s so

Quixotic.

 

 

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Quixotic in 26 words

 

Do Or Die

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(Photo: Brunno Tozzo on Unsplash)

 

There were no two ways about it. The situation was dire.

He pressed his weight onto the box to seal it.

Nailed it shut.

He stood back then to admire his handiwork.

A wall of boxes. Most of them no longer wiggling.

It was do or die.

And it wasn’t going to be him who did the dying.

 

 

 

For Sammi‘s Weekend Writing Prompt: Dire in 58 words

 

False Freedom

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(Photo: Jon Tyson on Unsplash)

 

“We believe in freedom,” they proclaimed,

“So of course you’re free to choose!”

Then they added

As her lips began to show

Relief,

“Just as long as what you choose

Is what we say you must

Believe.”

“For after all,” they stressed

When she blinked at

The paradox,

“We cannot have you

Infringing on our freedom,

When it is

Your body for us to be free

To make the choices

For.”

 

 

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Paradox in 71 words