Banned #DailyPost

Today’s prompt

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We wish to leave behind the negatives, open our minds to the new, the innovative: the positives. Around us we see the future being built, as our present. Of course the signs of the past are all there, as if to remind us all that nothing is, ever, unchanging, immutable. Time, they say, is a great healer. Perhaps.

Rather, we see time as the veil that keeps us guessing about the meaning of the present,  about what is around the next twist of destiny.

We look at the approaching winter sky: banned be regrets about a past that may never have existed, beyond now. Only the Dead know what it might have been like. We, the still living, can only dream of asking them, or reading the signs…

Photo: Sunset, Santa Catalina Mountains, Arizona, USA, ©2016 Honoré Dupuis

#FiveSentenceFiction: Flawed

For Naoko

 Lighter than feathers the notes of the piano float through the room, as you play, your gaze from time to time turning to me, radiant.

The evening is perfect: the rain falling on the terrace, now in darkness, can just be heard, and the sound of the fire crackling in the chimney, lighting this room, a perfect setting for the prelude to love.

Your white dress hardly conceals your perfect body, as your flawless hand hangs lightly above the keys, as if time was suspended…

You smile at me, and your smile is that of an angel, as I turn the pages of the book I pretend to be reading.

And for an instant my mind flies into the future, that far away shore where we have become the grey ashes of this glorious present.

 

 

#FiveSentenceFiction: a Birthday Post – Sacrifice

She stood still, as if she was frozen, her huge grey body among grey rocks, one of the most formidable fighters in the whole universe.

Before she died her sister had helped her bury their eggs deep, so deep, in the planet’s core: nothing bar total annihilation could now reach them, their future, their eternity: she knew one day, far down in the flows of time, her descendants would rise again, supreme in the immensity of space.

Now she could sense them, a host of dark vessels, full of the hideous creatures, the plague of all sentient beings, evil incarnated, approaching, though they would not reach the trap for several days.

She was dreaming, of happier days with her sisters, and Mother, who begot them all, fierce and beautiful: she was pride of their achievements, before and after the humans had succombed to the devils, still longing for that time, before the fall, when giant spiders and humans had worked together, here, on this world.

But mankind had left her a priceless legacy, and she gently caressed the small pentagon: that that would unleash the megatons once the devil armies had surrounded her, her ultimate sacrifice, her pride: she would release the fires of a million hells on the devils, once and for all ridding the universe of the plague.

#FiveSentenceFiction: Armor

St Michael

He stands in front of you, unarmed

Dominated, in awe, a small being

In the immensity of

Your wisdom

Your will unknowable,

His destiny in your hands.

He stands, his armour

Is his faith,

Unshakable, unassailable

His body may die,

What does it matter to you?

You know.

Faith moves mountains.

The future is in his hands.