Archive | February, 2015

Drawers

25 Feb

Our assignment:

Your prompt: drawer

Today’s form: ode

 

_______________________

Inside my mind a chest of drawers

with treasures found within

like lady’s linen handkerchiefs

well-worn and dearly loved

the lingering scent of her perfume

her laugh like summer rain

the memory of her warm embrace

that brings my heart such pain

I keep her under lock and key

where she is safe from harm

and though our visit bittersweet

I’ll always love my Mom

Choose Your Own Adventure

23 Feb

Written for

Sunday Photo Fiction: February 22, 2015

208

Photo Copyright – Joe Owens 2015

Choose Your Own Adventure

“Do you remember those books you were always reading when you were a lad?” Mama asked between fits of coughing that left her spent.

“Choose your own adventure” I reply, raising the head of her hospital bed just slightly to help her breathe more easily.

“Sometimes life’s like that” she whispers. The setting sun sends a cascade of pinks and oranges flooding through the window and I barely notice her doctor come in and inject the contents of a syringe into the I.V.

Mama raises my hand to her lips and gently passes away. The heaving of her chest has stopped and the furrows of pain across her brow disappear as though by magic.

I look up at the doctor as he walks silently toward the door and I suddenly understand. Choose Your Own Adventure .. if you wish to die with dignity turn to page nine.

Waving Farewell

15 Feb

Written for:

Sunday Photo Fiction – February 15th 2015

Waves engulfing a lighthouse

“A perfect storm” the newspapers all touted. “It will be the storm of the century” the grim-faced announcer told his captive audience.

On the mainland, buildings are boarded up and residents  evacuated to higher ground. The lessons learned from the great tsunami in 2011 have not been forgotten.

When the word came in that we were to leave our post at Lion’s Head lighthouse but that one of us would have to stay behind to monitor wind speeds and the incoming tides, my decision was made in an instant.

I gathered my four colleagues together and told them to get their gear together as quickly as possible and make their way to our home office which was several miles inland. No amount of arguing would get me to change my mind.

They all shook my hand and hugged me  before driving away, honking the horn as they turned the bend for what would possibly be a final goodbye. Their words echoing in my head as they disappeared over the horizon. “Hero” they said “Brave and selfless”.

If they only knew how far from the truth that they are.  I have no fear of the imminent killer waves, for I know that death will be much quicker and merciful than from  the cancer that is eating away at my brain one painful day at a time. I am a coward.

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“Statue” Of Limitations

8 Feb

written for:

Sunday Photo Fiction – February 8th 2015

Statue of Boudicca (Boadicea) in London, UK

“Happy Birthday lovey, ain’t she a beauty?” Martin says, pointing to the statue that has arrived in front of the house on a flat-bed truck.

“What in the love of Pete were you thinking? When I asked you for a statue for my garden I was talking about a small gnome or perhaps a wee frog..not THAT monstrosity. Take it back to where you got it.”

“But honey” he whined “I really like this one” he sticks out his bottom lip defiantly “we are keeping it and that’s all there is to it!”

“Don’t push your luck” she snapped back

Two weeks later the chariot and rider are lowered on to the freshly turned soil of Martin’s grave.

“Don’t you think it’s a little ostentatious?” queries the eldest son

“Not at all” replies the new widow “it’s just what he wanted.”

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The Waiting Game

1 Feb

Sunday Photo Fiction – February 1st 2015

Posed skeleton in a shed

Héctor Miedo chanced a glimpse out of the cabin window. ” I know he’s still out there, I can feel it in my bones” he says squinting his good eye to get a better look.

His mates sigh in unison. They have been hiding in this  god – forsaken cabin for centuries now. None of them bold enough to challenge their captain. He was once known to have cleaved a man to his brisket for simply implying that he could perhaps suffer from irrational fears, after all..what danger could the Michelin man actually pose?

“Perhaps” the captain says , his voice quavering, “we can wait a little longer to be sure..”

Just outside the window his nemesis waits patiently …

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