Gone ~ an acrostic

Today's muse: Daily Writing Practice

Marc's prompt was "Gone". I decided to try my hand at an acrostic. A bit of a cheat, since 'gone' is such a short word, but I thought I'd start out small.

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Gone

Give me back the days of music when
Once upon a time you sang to me.
Now there is nothing but
Eerie silence that swallows me whole.

Powdered Addiction ~ a haiku

Today's muse: Daily Writing Practice

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Powdered Addiction

reddened amber eyes
watch as white lines disappear
blinded by false joy

The Eyes of Love ~ a haiku

Today's muse: Daily Writing Practice


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The Eyes of Love

eyes flowing with love
gazed with warmth at the wedding
now kill on command

A Dream to Behold ~ Chapter Three

Today's muse: Protagonize

read chapter two

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B is for Bezaldar

The entire group of children was silent as they digested this information, the hush hovering for nearly ten seconds. Then everyone began talking at once, panicked voices shouting questions, demanding answers.

“What do you mean ‘he’s back’?”

“Who’s back?”

Philip glanced up at his friend, who appeared to have lost the capacity to speak. Billy simply stood there, his mouth convulsively opening and closing. He looked down at Philip imploringly, as if to say “You tell them.”

Sighing, Philip turned and faced the children, each one of them staring hopefully at him as though he had the answer; as though he was their salvation.

Just as he had stood, he realized, almost seven years ago, staring wide-eyed at Jeremy Weizman who had held up his G.I. Joe action figure for all to see, before passing it around for inspection. When the toy reached Philip’s hands, he had carefully turned it over, saw the B etched into Joe’s back. There were green flakes wedged in the crevice then, too. The same green flakes he had just seen on Teddy’s button eye.

Soon after that, strange things began happening in the neighbourhood.

At first, they were small incidents, inconsequential really. Since there was no explanation for these mysterious acts, the adults simply meted out retribution to the children who, in their view, were obviously to blame.

Cameron Trawley was sent to his room when his mother discovered the empty cookie jar. Lizzy Ilkes was grounded for a week when her parents saw her room: the bedspread was tossed on the floor, books were strewn everywhere and dirty clothes simply lay in a pile beside the door. Quite possibly the worst incident was Nick Marchant being suspended from school because he didn’t hand in his homework for a month.

The thing was, Philip knew these kids, was good friends with them. He knew that Cam didn’t eat those cookies—he hated oatmeal. Lizzy was always meticulous about keeping her room clean which, everyone agreed, was pretty weird for a six-year old, but still didn’t really explain how it became so dishevelled. As for Nick, he kept insisting something was eating his homework—and they didn’t even have a dog.

The occurrences began to happen more frequently, driving the adults to become fanatical in their punishments. It wasn’t long before the playground was often seen empty and sleepovers were a thing of the past.

Philip remembered all too well what it was like last time. How bad it got. And now it was starting all over again. There was no question …

Bezaldar was back.

Petals of Fate

Today's muse: Pictures, Poetry and Prose

Prompt: Write a poem of no more than five-lines


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Petals of Fate

Innocent little petals,
plucked one by one
in search of the eternal answer,
shatter dreams when they reply:
He loves me not.

Deliberation

Today's muse: Protagonize

The rules: Select a word to be the title of your 11-line poem. The last word of each line must be a word of no less than four letters created using letters from the title of your poem. (Note: For the record, I want to point out that this was not easy, but was a lot of fun. I failed at my first attempt by using three-letter words. Following directions has never been my forte).


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Deliberation

“He partied at a festival, was filled with great elation,
and staggered out knowing he was too filled with libation;
his drunkenness forgotten—completely in denial.”
screamed the burly big-shot lawyer hired for the trial.

“If this man had only thought, used only half his brain,
that woman’d be alive now, and we would not detain.
Instead I’m here before you; my temper in a rile.
In fact, I must pause now, to swallow down my bile.”

The prosecution rests, no longer does berate.
The drunkard sits and waits while the jury does debate.

The verdict’s in, the man has sinned, the public does elate.

A Long Way Down

Today's muse: Daily Writing Practice


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A Long Way Down


The Locator stood before him, an imposing man of some several thousand years, a tightly rolled scroll held reverently in his hands.

“Do you know why you are here today, Thelanon?”

His eyes downcast, the boy nodded mutely. The Locator nodded, allowing the mere hint of a smile. “Very well, then.”

The golden flecks embedded in the parchment glinted as the Locator unfurled the scroll and read the Decree.

“It has come to pass that the spirit named Thelanon shall make The Voyage and be one with a Being, acting as Spirit Guide and Moral Counsellor, until such time his journey shall end. And so it shall be.”

“And so it shall be,” repeated Thelanon, his eyes glowing with excitement.

The Locator unsheathed his jewel-encrusted sword—a ceremonial blade passed down through generations—and tapped Thelanon’s shoulders. As he chanted the age-old words that would complete the transformation, a golden dome glowed around the boy, enveloping him like a shield, pulsing with energy. Thelanon could feel the power fill him, spread through every part of his being, like a great tidal wave. He had waited his entire life for this moment.

When the ceremony was complete, he raised himself, standing tall, his young back erect and strong. He slowly raised his eyes to The Locator, surprised to see the elder grinning at him. Thelanon grinned back, then rushed forward to be enveloped in the open arms.

“I will miss you, uncle.” His voice was muffled against the old man’s tunic.

“I will watch over you, Thelanon. You may not always feel me. It is, after all, a long way down, but know that I will watch over you as you, in turn, will Guard your Being.”

With one final embrace, Thelanon stepped back and looked into the wise grey eyes that had watched over him these many years. He offered a smile to demonstrate his courage, then he was suddenly gone.

The Locator smiled quietly to himself, a little envious of the adventure on which Thelanon was about to embark.

Wheels in Motion ~ Chapter Seven

Today's muse: Wood and Pixels Narratives

read chapter six

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Chapter 7

Walking along the gravel drive, Carol surveyed the car, taking in the sleek lines, practically melting at the convertible top.

“I heard you bought the Miller’s old car.” She smiled at Billy’s frown. “Word travels fast in a small town.”

To his relief, Carol slowly nodded her approval. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath, was nervous about her reaction. Oddly, he realized, her opinion mattered quite a bit to him.

Leaning into the engine compartment, they gazed at the various components together. “Holy cow, Mr. Miller sure keeps his cars clean,” she marvelled.

Billy nodded in agreement, caressing the air hose. “Mr. Miller said she has the J-2 option package which ...”

“Which gives her 300 horsepower instead of the stock 277,” Carol interrupted. “With the V8, she’s going to go like smoke.”

Billy slowly turned his head, dumbstruck. “I didn’t know you knew all that junk,” he said, awed.

She grinned mischievously, moving around the car. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Billy Peterson,” she added airily and, opening the passenger door, she sat inside, adjusting the side mirror. “With the top down, I bet it feels like you’re flying.” Raising her arms straight up, she closed her eyes, a small smile playing on her lips and, tipping her head back, she imagined driving along a quiet road, the wind blowing her hair wildly behind her.

Billy felt a drop in his stomach then, like cresting a hill a little too fast. She looked fabulous sitting in his car like that; it skewed everything. Opening her eyes, Carol saw Billy staring at her, an odd expression on his face. Suddenly self-conscious, she brought her arms down, wrapping them around her waist, and stared at the floor.

Billy came around and sat in the driver’s seat, gripping the steering wheel with both hands as though it was a life preserver. Glancing over at Carol, he noticed she had a streak of grease on her arm. It was obvious she had seen it—it ran the length of her forearm. He marvelled at the fact that she hadn’t made a big to-do over it like other girls, running home to wash it off, possibly changing her entire outfit. Come to think of it, she was never fussed about her clothes. Instead, she was comfortable in cropped pants and a loose shirt, ready for the next venture at a moment’s notice. Darn if she didn’t make that simple outfit look sexy.

And what was that smell, he wondered. Billy leaned a little closer, breathing in her scent. Earthy with a slight floral hint, he decided. It smelled heavenly to him and he closed his eyes, enjoying the fragrance, smiling to himself. It occurred to him that his dad was right. It wasn’t just anyone that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. It should be someone that you’re comfortable with and want to spend time with. Someone you can laugh with, who is your friend. Someone you love.

Billy’s stomach dropped again. Love. He rolled the word around in his head, let it sit there a moment. Love. It flowed through him, warming every part of him. Huh, he thought, isn’t that something. Sometimes you can’t see what’s right in front of you.

Or next door.

Suddenly aware that the silence had gone on too long, Billy shook himself, clearing his throat awkwardly. Carol took this as a dismissal, embarrassed she had overstayed her welcome, and grasped the door handle, prepared to leave.

Billy grabbed her arm. “Wait.”

Chapter eight to be added soon.

Weapon of Choice

Today's muse: Daily Writing Practice


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Weapon of Choice

In the beginning there was love,
and it was good.
Man and woman lived together in paradise,
not ashamed of their nakedness.

Then came the serpent,
who slithered and hissed,
beckoned, lured, enticed.
Promised.
Lied.

Worn proudly on her left hand,
the crimson bauble shone for all.
That plump red orb changed everything.

The apple begat the rules;
The rules begat the punishment;
The punishment begat the shouting;
The shouting begat the humiliation;
The humiliation begat the beating.

But the spirit of David grew within her, and
brandishing her sword,
she slew Goliath.
Nevermore to be a slave,
but to forever be a warrior.

Halleluiah.

Wheels in Motion ~ Chapter Six

Today's muse: Wood and Pixels Narratives

read chapter five

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Chapter 6

When Billy pulled into the driveway, his father was waiting for him. “Andy Miller called me already. Told me that you’d bought his old Rocket.” Donald Peterson, barely containing his excitement, wandered around the car, much the same way his son had. “She’s a beauty!” he pronounced, echoing Billy’s words.

Examining the engine together, father and son leaned as one, shoulders touching. After much discussion and debate, Don clapped his hand on Billy’s shoulder. “You made a fine choice, son,” he said with a grin. “So what’s going to be your first destination?”

Billy shrugged, not quite successful in his attempt at appearing casual. “I thought I’d go to the Blowout tonight.”

Don nodded his approval. “Good choice. Show her off. Are you taking anyone special?”

Billy sighed. Oh, how he wanted to ask Susan Andrews. Surely she’d go with him now. He had a great car, she couldn’t possibly say no. Of course, she’d probably already have a date, the Blowout was in a few hours, after all.

“No. I don’t have anyone to go with,” he muttered.

“But you had someone in mind,” as though he read Billy’s thoughts. It was a statement, rather than a question. Billy nodded.

“Who?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Billy shrugged, “she’s not interested in me anyway.”

To his credit, Don kept a straight face. “Son,” he said, slowly shaking his head, “it’s not easy finding the right girl, someone you want to share the rest of your life with. You want to take your time, choose carefully.” Billy glanced up at his father, a quizzical look on his face.

“When your mother came along,” Don explained, “she made me laugh and she laughed at my silly jokes. We would talk for hours, or just sit quietly together. We just ... you know ... clicked.” He shrugged, knowing he wasn’t explaining himself well. “You’ll know when it happens.”

“But when will it happen?” Billy cried, impatiently.

“Some things are just worth waiting for.” Don glanced up, hearing the crunch of the gravel drive. “Like that,” he added with a wink, nodding his head towards the girl walking down the walk.

“I think I hear your mother calling me,” he muttered and walked towards the house.

Read chapter seven.

The Question

Today's muse: Daily Writing Practice


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The Question

When the day comes
that I make the Great Voyage
to listen to the angels sing

I will meet St. Peter
and ask one question:
“Do I look fat in these wings?”

Wrongfully Accused

Today's muse: Daily Writing Practice


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Wrongfully Accused

For the theft of four oatmeal cookies
Charlie sits alone with his thoughts
Sentenced by Mom to sit in the corner
While the dog grins and licks his chops