In The Wrong

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(Photo: Anna Hecker on Unsplash)

 

She was, always, in the wrong.

The wrong path. The wrong friends.

The wrong choices. The wrong dress.

The wrong dreams. The wrong job.

Wrong husband.

Wrong … no … not the wrong children.

Just the sometimes-very-difficult ones.

No wonder,

When her every action was judged

Widdershins.

So she chose to listen

To no one,

But the small call

Of her soul,

And the small arms that wrapped

Around her legs

When she reached

Down.

 

 

 

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: widdershins in 75 words

 

Sheltered

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(Photo: Michal Ico on Unsplash)

 

She trudged up slopes in ice

And cold

The wind bent chilly fingers down

Her coat.

Till finally she saw

Up top

A cave indenting

Ancient rock.

She crawled in,

Grateful,

To take stock.

 

 

 

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Cave in 34 words

 

The Gall

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(Photo: Abigail on Unsplash)

 

She steamed and paced and stomped and stewed.

The temerity. The audacious liberties he’d taken.

It was one thing to sell the house.

Another, to have removed her name from the deed.

To have kept the change hidden.

Her parents’ house, no less.

The place of hers – not his – childhood.

Cruelty was why she’d left him.

But this?

He, vacationing on islands.

She and the children, homeless.

 

 

 

 

 

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Temerity in 69 words.

 

 

Farewell

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(Photo: Amitai Asif)

 

They said farewell.

They said goodnight.

They walked into dark

From light.

Their hearts were sad.

Their eyes were bright

With tears that grief will soon ignite.

Her passing’s new

Her suffering done.

They walked with her as

One cycle ended and a new began.

 

 

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Goodnight in 45 words

Dedicated with love to my aunt, whose funeral is across an ocean and a sea tonight. May her memory be a blessing.

 

 

On The Bright Side

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(Photo by Anton Darius on Unsplash)

 

The party rocked. Music thrummed through her soles and the edges of her vision blurred.

I’m buzzed, she thought. Tipsy. Perhaps even drunk.

It did not matter that there was no alcohol in the bowl.

The cheer was what intoxicated her.

The brightly colored joy.

So much better than last week’s funeral, she thought. That energy had depleted her. Dark. Gray. Thirsting.

For another sip.

She smiled to let the pavonine life-liquor of the child’s birthday party pour right into her. 

 

 

 

 

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: pavonine in 81 words

 

The Gift

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(Photo: Jennifer Burk on Unsplash)

 

She was not there.

Of course, she did the work. She wiped the sinks. She did the wash. She peeled the taters. Washed the floors.

But she was not there.

Not when people stopped by. Not where there were any windows open or any blinds up.

She’d been smuggled to them as a child.

A gift.

From someone.

To the man and lady of the house.

 

 

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Smuggle in 66 words

 

Familiar Patience

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(Photo: Andreea Popa on Unsplash)

 

She probably thought that she had found him. However, it was he who had found her. That is, if seeking her directly could be claimed a discovery.

He did not rub it in. There was no need.

Like the others, she was going to learn at her own pace. Humans could not be hurried. Not even those with above average affinity.

So he waited. Stared. Rubbed against her. Swished his tail. Licked his paws.

Magic lessons.

From her familiar.

 

 

 

 

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Familiar in 79 words

 

No Reflection

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(Photo: Pixabay)

 

The full-length glass was bedecked in heavy gilded glory. A forest of paintings crowded around it, their layered oils glistening in the candlelight.

She stopped and stared back at the faces. Unsmiling figures in stiff postures clad in roiling silk and velvet cloths.

Perhaps they ought to have felt familiar. The line of jaw, the slant of brow, the coil of hair above a hooded eye. She had seen all those before. She could again. If she just let her eyes glide toward the mirror.

She would not.

Know them.

Her ancestors.

Her captors.

Both.

 

 

 

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

 

She Was Busy

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(Photo: Dallas Reedy on Unsplash)

 

She was busy. She had no time for chatter. For sand to slide idly through the hourglass.

The day was short.

Each moment was precious. Each second, opportunity.

Her focus never wandered.

Each section had to have its exact place.

Every addition, calculated.

There were walls and gates and many fences.

There’d be knights and royals to showcase.

Moats and pits of fire.

She was, after all, building an empire.

 

 

 

 

 

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Empire in 70 words

 

Not Granted

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(Photo: Christophe Hautier on Unsplash)

 

Do not take any of it

For granted.

Words that oft repeat are not

In of themselves

A fact,

Just because they are told

With sneering emphasis.

 

Beware of those who judge

A question

As treason,

As something one must

Automatically

Dismiss

Or risk being called

Disloyal

To a person,

For having fealty to the Truth

And the backbone

To speak.

 

So, yes, do

Question

Empty statements.

Do withhold permission

To deflect

Blame

From those who harm,

To those who point out

The abuse.

 

 

 

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Question in 84 words