Neophyte #thedailypost

Neophyte

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The streets are empty, and rain starts falling. Some windows are lit, high up the tall buildings. Fallen leaves fly in the wind. Slowly he begins to hear the voices of the city. He has so much to learn: the geography of those unknown spaces, where the wall once stood, the secret boundaries, what was once the East, what is still the West, the ancient churchyards, the parks, the statues.

He listens to the voices, far away. He walks, he writes, he speaks to her. She says: “you have to forget what you learnt: this is different, you are on the other side of a mirror, you have to start again, and you cannot guess…”

Proxy #thedailypost

Proxy

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She roams the streets, a pale, almost immaterial silhouette, the thin shadow of a woman. Yet the eyes are much alive, piercing blue, observing the passers-by, decrypting the smiles, or the tears. She reads the lives, the stories, the pain, the joy, she does not need to talk with people, they are an open book for her – and the only light in her life.

For without them, she is not really alive, a mere shimmer in the autumn air.

Image: Fantome by 0zhan on DeviantArt

Simmer #thedailypost #100words

Simmer

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Below the surface of calm water the next storm is brewing. What it will be, how violent and destructive, no-one knows, nor how far it will reach, nor when it will be unleashed. So we, mere mortals, the next victims, continue to tread, blind and deaf, accepting our fate, carrying our sins, pretending all is well. Has it ever been different, have our ancestors, once, had the knowledge of the future, of what simmers under their lives, hidden from view? Was Nature, once, kinder to us? Did our Creator, once, attempt to warn us? Have we forgotten everything?

Image: Gaia, the Big Mother

 

 

Mystery #thedailypost

Mystery

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I recall the first time I saw You, as through a thin veil of time, a vision of peace, a quiet voice behind which one sensed a deep strength. In the tumult, the chaos that then was, You were reassuring, a calm presence that was not all human, and yet without threat, somehow in and out of this world, an ancient Being who knew all about us, the like of us, in our misery.

Ever since, You appeared when this frail soul was lost, every time an inspiration for hope, for wisdom, for courage. Although I did not, still do not understand, it was plain to see that You knew everything, the small lies, the cowardice, the fear that haunt us. So that there is nothing to hide, and to take the high road ahead, we only have to listen, and to obey.

Image: Deutsche Post stamp, 1979 : Johannes Faust avec Homunculus, Méphistophélès. scanned by NobbiP, Domaine public, Lien

Leaf #DailyPrompt

Inspired by today’s prompt

 

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Her diary’s open to this date, last year. It could be a leaf from another life, from another time. The woman she was then, perhaps even still the girl, is long gone: so has the world around her. That was before the bomb fell, and now, now that peace has returned, she and many others, the survivors, have to rebuild a home, for the children to come.

Tether #TheDailyPost

Today’s prompt

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The place is hers, she’s on her own ground. She knows what to do, who else is there, who does what. She’s all powerful. But sometimes, we don’t have a choice, submission is the safest bet. Her manners are gentle, evidently, she’s an expert.

So, for a few hours, captivity feels sweet. Later, it may be different, later, when the pain comes. Tethered, unable to move, utterly vulnerable. The thought that this is for my own sake does not alter the fact.

Picture: a recruiting poster for Australian nurses from World War I (source: Wikipedia)

Loop #WritersWednesday #DailyPost

Inspired by today’s Prompt

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The shed stands in a little hollow, surrounded by trees and bushes. The bushes are of a climbing sort, maybe  roses, or jasmin. This place is old, but not decrepit, although as we approach it, I notice someone has removed the small inside lock on the door. It was a kind of light latch, just to allow the occupier to get privacy. My friend has disappeared inside, and I keep watch, to ensure she is not disturbed. I look around the shed, and notice some tools against its walls. My neighbour is working nearby. I mention to him the broken, or vandalised, latch. He’s aware of it, and says he will fix it. Then I remember I have that urgent phone call to give. It seems that all the public phones nearby are either not working, or of a type I cannot use. Is it that I have no change? Yet I have several cards, of a type that looks old and way past their usefulness date.

I quit the shed, with much regret, and walk toward the town hall. I never knew it was so close. I must talk to that councillor. Now there is a puzzle, what councillor, and why? Is this a throwback from that silly TV program we watched last night, where the mayor wants to buy the priory in order to build a casino? The one with the sexy nun who looks like my sister in law…

I take the familiar steps and enter the main hall. I am aware of people around, I hear them talking but cannot see them. I am worried about the friend left behind, a sweet worry tainted of lust. I try to use the hall’s telephone, but of course, do not know the extension. I am afraid of attracting attention: how could I justify my presence here? I recall that my neighbour said I could use his phone at home. I walk there, and follow a well kept path through the woods. His wife welcomes me, explains she’s now much better, and indeed looks even younger than I recall. We chat amiably, and when I try to give this call, I have forgotten what it was about, and to whom. I am now back, walking toward the shed, and found that my friend has gone. There is now, somehow, more light around, I keep looking at those useless bank cards in my wallet: a waste of space. Sometime, finding people we love, in this world, is nigh impossible. One moment they are there, just so close, and the next they are gone, and we cannot reach them.

I know this is dawn, and I have a choice, carry on the search, or pause. I know it may be prudent to pause now.

Image: Magritte Museum, Brussels

Trace #TheDailyPost

Inspired by today’s one word prompt

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In any other city I would probably lose him, as his ability to hide behind others, look like them, or simply disappear, is beyond any other’s. But this is the city of Faust. Among the folks of the night, roaming the quiet streets, haunting the silent parks, he is known as the Prince of Deceit, and easily recognised. So I know where and how to find him, follow his putrescent scent, get the demons of the night to corner him.

He tries to pretend to be someone else, a poor vagrant, a homeless, harmless victim of this harsh life. And I laugh. Through the rictus and the sardonic smile, I see the reality of the shaking Devil.  Confronted, identified, gone the assurance, gone the lies, the pitiful remnant of a fallen angel is just afraid!

Vade retro Satanas!

Picture: Devil Voodoo Figure, Usulutàn Province, El Salvador (courtesy Tucson Museum of Modern Art)

Temporary #TheDailyPost

The Prompt

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After sundown the city soon wears a cloak of silence: aside from the main avenues, traffic thins out, children rush home, buses and trams, stop by stop, deliver their cargos of precious and tired humanity to their homes. This leaves the freedom of the quiet streets to the flâneurs, to the tramps, and to the night lovers. Except on Friday, when the young revel late, and noisily (bless their voices and their smiles) this temporary truce lasts until the early morning, just before five o’clock, when a new work day starts.

In these few hours of peace, the ghosts roam unheeded the deserted parks, along the canals, and if you are lucky, you may even see some poet, lost in her world, in the semi darkness of a bridge, or lying on a bench, near a lake. It is as if the city was catching up with her inner thoughts, before her children awake from their dreams…

Picture: berlin 2017 © martin u waltz. streetberlin.net, at http://streetphotography.streetberlin.net/image/158029491898

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