(Photo: Jim Moore)
He now possesses
Every want:
A hat, a sweet
Face coat.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Possess in 11 words
All Wants
Weekend Writing Prompt
Only Cooler
(Photo: Chagit Moriah Gibor)
It was going to be a gargantuan effort, but that had never stopped her before.
No matter what others always said she could do.
The skis were first. Adjusted to work over the wheels like skids on seaplanes. Only cooler.
Literally.
She slid through the ice and snow to find a clean patch. Shoveled up the snow onto her lap to press into a ball. Rolled and patted. Devised a ramp and pulley to hoist the second ball. Plopped on the third. Poked in twigs.
There.
Lopsided, but so was she.
Her snowman. Wheelchair be damned.
For Sammi‘s Weekend Writing Prompt: Gargantuan in 96 words
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Beguiled
(Photo: Rhett Wesley on Unsplash)
When she returned home
They thought
She had grown into what they had always
Hoped she’d be.
Instead she was
A mistress of
Illusion.
A mouth that spoke,
A smile that held
A hidden mock,
Bewitching their longing
Into the
Nightmare
She had planned
For them to feel
But not
See.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Beguile in 51 words
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A Broken Wing
(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
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Newfound
(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
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Tested
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
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A Marginal Way
(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
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Back In Time
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
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Waiting
(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
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Not Long Now
(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
Na'ama Yehuda 
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