The holidays were always problematic here in the Plutonic Zone. Folks expected a feast, but you couldn’t feed them mutant turkey. Stan the Retired Lieutenant had passed around a written notice forbidding the use of the two-headed birds as people food. So annoying.
She woke early and began to creep through the old garden, collecting colorful pebbles for her soup. Some of them had little bugs clinging to them, which would add protein. After a while, her wrist began to ache from the bitter cold, and she wished she had worn the gloves she’d taken from that dead spaceman.
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Posted in Fantasy, Holidays, Nutrition, Writing
Tagged #lightm0tifs, 100 words, 3TC, aminals, death, fiction, flash, FOWC, nature, RDP
He paused beside the smooth, towering trees, touching one tentatively as if for balance. The ground was spongy cool beneath his bare feet, but nothing hopped or crawled. Golden light poured in from the north and he slowly turned toward it, shading his eyes. He’d been away for a long time and moved hesitantly, not knowing what dangers lurked. Was his nemesis still hunting him, or did she die in the explosion along with the prototype humans? He needed to find out and began to jog toward the light.
“Cut!” yelled the director. “We’ll do the eyeball scene after lunch.”
Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge
I dreamt I was the moon, distant and translucent, and you were my divine horse, my Pegasus. You sailed over the pink pearl seas, steady as a heartbeat. Lavender dawn enveloped the earth as you flew on, silken wings tirelessly playing the rhythm of our love song. You never left me crying in the mortal night, not when I was the moon, surrounded by eternal skies and tended to by stars. You forgot to bring lightning to the gods; that’s how enraptured you were. Your devotion drifted through me like a cloud, angelic mist, but no use to me now.
They wandered the garden in silence, for they had already said goodbye the previous night. The sun seemed in no rush to rise this morning, considerately giving them a few more moments together. He briefly debated asking her to pick a bouquet, to see if a handful of blossoms could bring a spark to her eyes one last time. But what was the point? Why go backward now? Leave the flowers in peace. They’d be gone soon enough, like everything else. The warship was in the harbor, and the secretary had given everyone their final orders. Today was the day.
The Daily Spur
“Those petit fours look so luscious, Sandy,” Eva said. “They must have five hundred calories each.”
Sandy smiled. “Thank you! I thought we all deserved a special treat for the anniversary of our club.”
Jill shook her head. “My doctor told me to avoid sugar. Honestly Sandy. We’re all too old to splurge like this. You should have made something more suitable.”
“Geez,” Sandy said. “You ladies are–”
“Hey hey!” Norm shouted. “Are we all ready to draw names for our partner swap?”
Sandy, Eva, and Jill rushed toward the front of the room, forgetting all about the petit fours.
May 2 Prompt ~ The Haunted Wordsmith
The bee buzzed a secret to his friend the rose, who swore she’d never tell, but the days grew cold and her head drooped low, the burden too heavy for her withering petals; she whispered the words to a vagabond crow–what could it hurt, this wandering bird–but he sold the news for a scatter of seeds, the tree promising to keep the secret to herself, which she did until the sweet southern wind came around once more, tapping at her door, and her blushing leaves gave it up to him, which is why there’s no honey this sad, sad spring.
Hot summer sand met cold ocean froth. Two little girls in sunglasses and hats with buckets and towels, digging and giggling. I would bring a book and never open it, preferring to watch my children’s fun and the turquoise waves tumble in, one by one. The hours moved slowly but the time went so fast. Grandma came too with lunch in a cooler. She’s gone now and soon my time will be up, the next decades sure to pass even faster than the ones before. Each year’s bubbles crash in, spread out with a susurrus, and disappear back into nothingness.
The Daily Prompt: Froth
Betrayed by expectations once again. Relearn. Remember. Keep the bar of wanting low. Desire little from others. Rejoice in small accomplishments and don’t agonize over failing to reach the stars. The stars will still be there tomorrow. Savor every cotton candy sunset. Nothing is more important than taking a minute to play with a kitty. Stay in the car to finish listening to a song. Jot down every poetic thought because you never know when one will take your hand and lead you to a path filled with starlight in the dark forest of the night. But don’t expect it.
The Daily Prompt: Betrayed
I’ve noticed a higher tolerance for disorder in my physical space as my emotional landscape has become much less messy. This has been gradual, so I don’t know exactly when it began, but sometime last year I would guess. I suspect it has to do with giving up dating sites and some other activities that stressed me out. Now a cluttered desk and an unmade bed simply don’t bother me the way they used to. My obsession to compulsively keep my tiny corner of the world super organized and at right angles dissipates as inner peace manifests. Who knew? Ommmm…
The Daily Prompt: Messy