#FWF Free Write Friday: Quote Prompt

“We started dying before the snow, and like the snow, we continued to fall.” — Louise Erdrich, Tracks

Mieczysław Jakimowicz, Foreboding, 1907Out of the mist they march

Cloaked in white, invisible,

An army of wraiths, frightening the crows,

Away from the living, they march towards Hell

On their way destroying all evils…


Image: Mieczysław Jakimowicz, Foreboding, 1907, via http://snowce.tumblr.com/

#FWF Free Write Friday: Image Prompt

Does this envelope hold a message for you or someone else? In the words of John Mayer… “say what you need to say…”

everything i could never tell you My dear love,

I know, this will be unexpected, after all, old fashion mail has gone… a bit out of fashion, has it not? But this is Mars! The kind crew that gave us that invitation, when we wrote to them how pleased we were about the lunar probe – do you remember, only six months ago? Well, the same bunch invited me again, this time to fly to their Mars base, send you a letter, and fly back! They said the mail rocket would arrive ahead of us, and they would make sure you have the letter before I knock on our door!

If you look now, I am probably just standing at the door now!

Hugs… and more in a sec!

#FWF Free Write Friday: The Circle of Life

Aphrodite Space ants, no light, no atmosphere, ersatz of everything, no longer human, dogs of war… In his sleep he remembers…

In the immensity of space, in the cruiser armed to the core, he remembers: a clear stream flowing from high above in the icy air of an alpine Spring, snow still powdering the valleys, and her smile, her lips in the thrall of happiness.

He remembers the glory of the shore in the Summer: the waves licking the golden sand, her body, tanned, naked, the beauty of Aphrodite.

He remembers the colours of Fall, the sweet scent of burning wood, the horses in the fields showing off their winter coat…

He remembers the dead of Winter, when he, with thousands of others like him, embarked on the spaceships launched to stop the Enemy… The long lines of volunteers, the rockets.

He remembers the war, the horror of war.

It is over now: they have triumphed. One out of one thousand is coming back. To Earth, to the Light, to the Seasons, to their long gone Loves.

For Earth is rotating, and Sol is burning, and they, the survivors, are now old men.

Image: courtesy The Classy Polaroid