Pirates Came A-calling

The Pirates came by today.

They said they were recruiting,

but they didn't want just anybody

that was tired of their everyday existence.

This, after all, was the chance

of a life time.

You would sail the seven seas,

gaze upon Wonderous things, 

and learn to wield a cutlass...

Or, a rapier, if that was more

to your liking.

I told them,

"Not today."

But, I had them leave

 their card.                                     

https://www.etsy.com/listing/73059312/peter-pan-photograph-unframed-nursery?ref=sc_2&plkey=8052f93788a020a453ca7ea14beaa72dbe7f0451%3A73059312&ga_search_query=pirate+photographs&ga_page=4&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery

Lost and Found

For the 5 Sentence Fiction Challenge by Lilli McFerrin. This weeks word is Envy.


Lost and Found

I mixed the bitter root of atonement with the sweet sap tapped from the Tree of Life to send her back to the Lover wronged in the time of papyrus and Pharaoh.

The realities of her existence, draped carelessly across backs of camp chairs and cots, disappeared from the tents staked into the sands of the desert as she took sip after sip from the ancient cup.

Shackled lifetimes beyond enduring to a Karma of finding, losing, she suffered due to a mistake made in a fit of misguided rancor that caused her very being such pain that now no risk was too great.

The bazaar whispered fecund promises and grievous names to the woman who had tied her path this time to excavations of dusty sites, forbidden knowledge, and hope.

She dared the mists, so I watched with a smile as a name, that had been redacted by the stones of time, began to reappear clearly chiseled on the torch lit chamber walls around me.

http://www.controverscial.com/Margaret%20Alice%20Murray.htm

Yellow Brick Fail

For the Five Sentence Fiction Challenge. This weeks word was grief.

Yellow Brick Fail

Each wicked little bird took a piece, peck, peck, pecking away until all that was left was her fleshy container and streaming tears of long heart hurt.

She felt each beak as it tore through the meat of her resolve, her boundaries, her self esteem, her yearning, yet still she walked expecting a buffed up Tin Man to save her.

A serious minded Scarecrow would have been talk therapy company, but none were to be found, nor was there any 'roid rage Lion around to beat the intruders and their reminders of pain into bloody spots on the forest floor.

She had stepped off her yellow brick road in search of...something unseen but felt, only to find herself in a rotten apple forest populated by sorrow grown large by lack of trust and sharing, pecked to pieces by birds named Regret and Loss.

In her head she knew even the Wizard would not be able to give back the Emerald Palace of her dreams, so she trudged on along the crumbling, yellow route in shoes stained dark with shed blood longing.

                                                                 

www.messynessychic.com

Her Darkness

Latest contribution to the "Five Sentence Fiction Challenge". This weeks word was Darkness.
Find the site here: http://lilliemcferrin.com/five-sentence-fiction-darkness/

Her Darkness

Her darkness had wings the color of the backside of the rainbow,  but she was made to keep their flight feathers clipped, for soaring on currents of desire was frowned upon.

She had been made afraid of the power that overwhelmed her with the scent of ripe cherries and cinnamon, making of itself an aphrodisiac that ruptured her Soul.

A good girl did not have these thoughts, feelings, nor was she marked by the intoxicating possibility of actions bound by future regret and criticism.

Her other half, un-redeemed and lost in its denial, sneaked peeks every black moon into a shoebox at the back of the closet where her passions and dreams fluttered on the ends of short, golden chains.

Far better, said they, to abide safe and secure in non-censure, flightless and dressed by the Tribe, trained by Peers to attract the Perfect Mate, for was that not her place in the world...to replicate?

Waiting for Permission

My contribution for the Lillie McFerrin Five Sentence Fiction challenge. This weeks word was Waiting.
http://lilliemcferrin.com

She stood, illumined by the stark light flooding out of the refrigerator door...waiting.

She stared, without seeing, half empty shelves populated with salvaged margarine containers and burp-able plastic boxes that held the remains of meals remembered, as the cold brightness streamed around her.

Never allowed the luxury of exciting ingredients stirred together to nourish only herself, she existed on a mishmash of dishes left behind, relegated to her by the waste not, want not upbringing of a frugal parent.

Never permitted the simple idea of procuring something to delight, just for herself, she grew fat, bitter, and brittle having lived off the empty calories and agitated molecules of warmed over gotta-go's.

Had permission been given, she could have dined on feasts of freshness, fiestas of spices, but her Soul had forgotten that the only true authority she needed to heed, was standing in the glare of an open door staring at what she believed she deserved.

Word Routes

I missed the deadline for putting this into the Five Sentence Fiction challenge, but I thought I would share it, anyway. The word for this week was Maps.

My words are returning home.
Traveling down dirt roads, growing to farm to market black top, maturing into full blown freeway lanes of story and rolling poetry, they are taking me back.
If, I but stay away from the brake, I may re-discover roads already traveled and happen upon paths unknown before.
Like the forever unfolded map in its resolve to never return to its original form, my words have learned of different ways to seek out new side roads and rest stops.
An unholy vow is broken, my journey resumes.

Kintsugi Saviour

My contribution to the Five Sentence Fiction exercise. This week's word was luminous.

She was Kintsugi, luminous with the cracks and breaks her Soul had acquired these sixty odd years of travel around this particular sun, which made her valuable in ways she could not fathom.

Stunning in her naivete on the day she was taken, she had no understanding of how large the need was for her willingness to shatter and reform, break and mend to those unwilling and fearful to suffer the indignities and reality altering breaches and repairs that made lessons learned and remembered.

Their Deus ex machina was prepared, connector devices ready for those able to pay; they awaited only the prize piece of software.

Unconscious, she was prepped, wired, and encased, swimming in liquid nourishment, ready to be the Heart, the Gut, the Soul of what they were proclaiming was the next generation of social and wellness networking...no pain, all gain.

After a flash of weeks, when notices had gone out, orders taken and large sums of money deposited. they rushed to release her into consciousness...and the world they knew was washed away.

Summer Cherries

The fruit left its juicy stain across her bottom lip. She was lost in the sweet-tart taste. The sharp little pop that the cherry made as her teeth pierced the dark flesh made her moan. Quickly the soft dripping meat was sucked away until only the hard nub of the pit was left to be discarded as she moved on to the next ripe dangle of red.

He watched, unremarked from across the table, wondering how luscious it would feel to be so devoured.

Extorted

This post is for the Five Sentence Fiction Challenge that you can find on Lilith McFerrin Writes. You can find her site  http://lilliemcferrin.com/. This word for this week was "Fearless".


The initials emblazoned on their jackets looked surreal and it wasn't until the young one was seated in our bedroom, draperies closed, scarfing down my spaghetti as if he hadn't eaten in months, that I began to see the men under the agency insignia.

It started with a note imprisoned under the windshield wiper of the truck left overnight in the driveway, opening to letters cut from newspaper and magazine, pointing out how much THEY knew about our family, how dangerous THEY were, stating that $50,000 seemed a fair price for OUR safety.

A bag would be dropped, agents hiding in cab and bed of the truck made invisible by the dark summer night, protected by snipers concealed on corners and side streets, assuring capture of the perpetrator that had stolen our safety and the peace of mind of this small, rural town.

The bullet proof vest was strapped onto the torso of my ashen-faced husband, adjusted by practiced hands that delivered driving instructions in measured tones that were intended to be reassuring but left us staring at each other across the room in disbelief, trying to telepath our love for each other with our eyes, until it was time for them all to file into the darkened garage.

He had a need to stay focused and calm, my mate, in this moment of insane circumstance, so not wanting my fear to walk out that door with him, to keep him safe and reassured, I did what women around the world have always done when sending their men into an unknown danger, I  adjusted my face and did the only thing I could think to do...I smiled and blew him a kiss.

Stolen Moment

This post is for the "Five Sentence Fiction" exercise from the blog Lilith McFerrin Writes. You can find it here: http://lilliemcferrin.com/five-sentence-fiction-rain/

This word for this week was Rain.

The touch upon her skin was warm and gentle, sending shivers of ecstasy shooting through her very center making her wish that it could last forever.

It had been so long, this drought of sensation, leading her to soak in this stolen moment with near evangelical reverence.

She was so wet, dripping in the hope that there could be more, more depth, more often, just..more.

She lifted her face for the kiss knowing she didn't deserve these snatches of relief and release and then, hesitated, waiting for the abrupt end she knew was due.

With the slam of a screen door, the obscenity-laden directive to "get her sorry ass in the goddamn kitchen and put some supper on the table" led her to open her eyes and come in out of the rain.