Blizzard outside, blizzard in my mind, confusion, images without, anxiety within. Is this isolation, distancing, onset of old age... or just lack of inspiration, a fall in productivity? Bear market Pandemonium Stolen words So many questions... Image source: DAIN: Romania Beautonica (In Sepia Tone), 2018
Author: Sisyphus47
Appointed #writephoto
Inspired by this week photo prompt I am always aware of you, wherever you, or one of your sisters, are nearby. You are reassuring, your peaceful stance communicates to us that all is well, that you are keeping an eye on us, and will not let evil catch us by surprise. You are our appointed … Continue reading Appointed #writephoto
Before Dawn
He has been in so many places, but he is amazed when he discovers that she has too. Delighted, they start talking at once about their various experiences. As the days start getting longer, they walk, and talk, then go to his small room to continue their conversation. She’s in love with Italian cities, Verona, … Continue reading Before Dawn
Guarded #writephoto
Inspired by Sue's photo prompt There was no one at this desolated place where he had expected to see her. Yet her message had been clear: "Meet me at the guard, the highest point on the hill, where you have a full view of the mesa." They had played there, witches and sorcerers, and later … Continue reading Guarded #writephoto
Fantasy
There are nights when his imagination runs wild. As time passes, those get less frequent, but, if anything, more vivid. Some of the material, and characters, reappear from earlier episodes of his life, some from his writing, others are new fantasies, out of the blue. He is now in the habit of discussing his dreams … Continue reading Fantasy
Missing the point
“Fool’s golden glow of dangled carrots”
False
Premise
Play or prey
A simple choice
By corporate rules
Predator or victim
Conflict and separation
With the single stroke of a pen
In pursuit of imagined success
Machiavellian machinations
The route to riches is not paved with gold
Fool’s golden glow of dangled carrots
Luring donkeys ever onwards
Towards a goal out of reach
Beauty dies unnoticed
Kindness forgotten
Inner light dimmed
Life’s small joys
Too late
Fade
Return #writephoto
Thursday photo prompt: Returning #writephotohttps://scvincent.com/2021/01/21/thursday-photo-prompt-returning-writephoto/ He said he would return, and only the faithful understood, and waited. The doubters, the jokers, the cheaters were so confident. They laughed, and mocked those prostrate and grieving souls, in the churches... Then, one bright morning, he was there, standing tall, guarded by a legion of angels. The faithful rose, … Continue reading Return #writephoto
Resolve #3TC
Three Things Challenge #483 Her resolve he could read on her face, her beloved face. He knew they could not push her sideways, she had already decided their fate. Now she was checking her Glock. They did not stand a chance.
New #writephoto
“Of course you will die, when your time comes. For now, look at the star rising, feel the warmth, feel my hand on your shoulder, and don’t wallow in self-pity. I will come back when it is your turn…”
Overwhelmed by sorrow, he called for his guardian angel. She came at once, and took him to the cliff to watch the sunset, just the two of them. All at once calmed, reassured, he looked up to her smiling face: then she said: “I know, you feel lonely, but in truth you are lucky, you had more love than most mortals, and maybe you did not always deserve it…”
“Now is time for you to give grace, for your life, for the children you were given, for this sunrise… And for me to come to you, as I saw your distress.”
He felt on his knees, but she insisted he stood, side by side with her, and he felt her searching his mind, destroying the demons and the false hopes.
“Of course you will die, when your time comes. For now, look at the star rising, feel…
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The Tower… #writephoto
“… there was no-one there, perhaps not even the spirit of the hero, who, in eons past, had died defending her ancestors, in this forsaken and deserted place, alone against multitudes of demons.”
She crouched behind a short spiky bush, and waited for a sound. There was none, not even the usual discrete footfall of small creatures in the dark. A hawk could be seen, circling silently around the dark silhouette of the tower.
“So,”she thought,”This is where you died, so long ago even the stones have forgotten your name, the colour of your hair, the strength of your arms…” She relaxed her grip on the sword: there was no-one there, perhaps not even the spirit of the hero, who, in eons past, had died defending her ancestors, in this forsaken and deserted place, alone against multitudes of demons.
But she had to find out. Cautiously she started moving toward the ruin, one step at a time, a fluid and silent…
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