Key

The body was like a broken windup toy.

Detective Ramirez squinted at the metal tab protruding out the neck.

 “Tube key,” the CSI supplied, noting his confusion.

“Sorry, what?”

“You know,” she pointed to a partially used tube of toothpaste. “For rolling up metal tubes.”

“Huh.” Ramirez nodded.

“Wicked, right?”

#Writeober #50WordFiction

Cricket

Dax peered into the miniature cage. “What’s with the cricket?”

Lydia shrugged. “Old family superstition. First cricket found in the house brings you good luck.”

“I thought that was bad luck,” Dax frowned and left the room.

Lydia smiled into the cage. “Sing sweetly tonight, my little harbinger of doom.”

#Writeober #50WordFiction

Disguise

“Nice costume!” The glitter-smeared, broken-winged fairy yells over the din. Her breath is thick with alcohol.

He surveys the room, bodies and faces hidden behind an elaborate array of masks, makeup, and flimsy costumes.

“Thank you,” he smiles triumphantly, leaning closer.

She doesn’t yet realize. The party is his disguise.

#Writeober #50WordFiction

Scroll

Jenna unrolled the parchment and scanned the undecipherable script within. The words didn’t matter. The empty space in the middle was the key. Jenna’s hand shook as she scrawled her name. Her last thought, as she collapsed to the floor, was a hope the Magister would not betray his promise.

#Writeober2020 #50WordFiction

NaPoWriMo 2019 – Poem #4

There is a scar on my grandmother’s forearm.
A spiderweb of mottled flesh from elbow blossoming to wrist.

It’s been there as long as I have memory, and probably before.
One day I asked her how she got it.

Without a thought, she answered:
It was your grandfather.
He threw me through a window in one of his jealous rages.

To this, I had no reply.

NOTE: This poem is inspired by the NaPoWriMo.net prompt for Day #1 – write a poem that achieves sadness through simplicity.

NaPoWriMo 2019 – Poem #3

From the vibrance of youth,
two people captivated by each other.
Goddess to his atheism.
Beauty to his beast.

A pastor’s daughter,
brought up by the morals of the belt.
A son, too perfect,
result of a mother’s pride wrought to extreme.

She wished for freedom.
In him, found escape.
He desired attention.
In her, found something to possess.

A marriage of worlds
apart, so different,
a union made too young-
hasty rebellion of the naïve.

Children raising children.
Schooling left undone.
His love grew sour,
like the beer on his tongue

Teens becoming parents too soon,
they barely made ends meet.
Late nights at work bred suspicion,
jealousy, and rage – forcing love to retreat.

But unhappy homes,
breed unhappy children.
One rebellious like her parents.
One striving to please a father unbending.

After the children were raised,
only bitterness and resentment remained.
A husband. A wife.
A literal ball that’s been chained.

She wishes to go.
He wants her to stay.
Before they decide a grandchild is born,
and through neglect, nearly taken away.

Together, as grandparents, they swoop in
to give the baby girl a home.
So much for happiness,
duty makes sure that no one is left alone.

Through her childhood
this girl would not see
the love lacked between them-
the coldness buried deep.

They were both there for her
in their own way,
but rarely together,
unless with family or on special days.

Over the years,
bitterness passed down.
Son and daughter
too young had died.
Now granddaughter is all that’s left
to bridge the divide.

NOTE: This poem is inspired by the NaPoWriMo.net prompt for Day #1 – write a poem that involves a story or action that unfolds over an appreciable length of time.

NaPoWriMo 2019 – Poem #2

Black bird
keen eyes
robust from refuse
watches me

Sleek feathers
ruffle up fur-like
regal mantle shroud
Guardian poses

Throaty call
requesting aid
bringing in the flock
murder descends

Many eyes turn
from branches
all around, watching,
but Guardian retreats

Left behind
the flock and me
silent waiting, staring
nothing moving, but eyes

Distant call
rouses the crowd
a flurry of wings
shatters the quiet

One feather
floats to the ground
between two fingers
I turn it

Wondering…
Why did they come?
What did they see?
Where did they go?

NOTE: This poem is inspired by the NaPoWriMo.net prompt for Day #2 – write a poem that resists closure by ending on a question.

 

NaPoWriMo 2019 – Poem #1

Stress Relief: How to Meditate

Sit in a comfortable position
On the floor

Like a lotus?

If that hurts
Try a bolster

Or maybe a chair?

Or lie flat
Like a corpse

Ah…better.

Now close your eyes
If it’s too bright
Dim the lights
But not too dark
Lest you fall asleep

I could actually use a nap.

Meditation is about relaxation
Not sleep

Right, relaxation here we go.

Focus on breathing
Slowly in and out
Deep belly breathing

My lungs are in my chest, not my stomach.

Don’t force it
Breathing should come naturally

Like breathing into my belly?

Let the breath flow up
From the belly into the chest
But fill the belly first!

Yeah, yeah…all about the belly.

Open the chest
Slow and steady
Count if it helps

How much longer before I feel relaxed?

4-in, hold for 2, 6-out, hold for 4
Don’t force it

Milk, eggs, bananas, cereal…

Let errant thoughts go and breathe.

Maybe some chicken for dinner?

Try to focus on your breathing
Release any tension

Ouch!

Breathe into those muscles
Let them melt

That twinge in my neck is getting worse. Maybe I should call the chiropractor…

Let all of your worries melt away
As you breathe
Keep relaxing, bringing attention
back to any areas of tension

Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.

Drop those shoulders
Let the head float up
Releasing tension from the neck

Shit! I forgot to file my taxes.

Let those distractions
Just float away

“Meow?”
And…I forgot to feed the cat first.

Thoughts floating away
like fluffy little–

“Meeeeooowww!”
…annoying furballs?

–white clouds

The cat can wait five more minutes.
“MOWRRRR!!”

Breathe. Focus.

Is something vibrating?
My phone…mom.
Of course.
She always has the worst timing.

Don’t let distractions get in the way.
Breath. Relax. Focus.

Zzzzzt. “MAWRRR!” Zzzzzt.

But, if it’s important…

“Hey, Mom.”

Breathe.

“No, it’s fine.”

Relax.

“Of course I’m not too busy.”

You feel better already.


NOTE: This poem is inspired by the NaPoWriMo.net prompt for Day #1 – provide the readers with instructions.