Short Fiction, short story

Focus Lost

cabin covered by snow
Photo by eberhard grossgasteiger on Pexels.com

Focus Lost

Felicity focused her eyes, peering at the glint of light, passing through the sliver in the wooden shack; She wondered who might cast shadows on the wall of this musty old cabin.

Stepping closer, to get a better focus she saw movement, not just one person but two; And she stopped in the mud, frozen by her vision, focusing all the more, yet not wanting to see as Richard pulled Charlene to his chest, struggling with Charlene; Gasping, Felicity thought they were lovers in abandon.

Richard lunged forward with his hand to his chest, wood scraping across the floor, bellowing as he fell against the wall, his girth sliding down the wall.

Running out the door, Charlene swooped atop the horse and galluped off into the darkened woods, leaving Richard moaning in pain and struggling, as Felicity heard him gasping for air.

“Richard,” Felicity ran to his side.

“Fel…” gasping for his breath, “I…” struggling for strength “‘m sor…lost…love…broke,” and as he took his final breath, she knew.

…..

So, there you have it! That’s my Six Sentence Story for this week.
Go on over and join us right HERE

Rules of the hop:
Write 6 Sentences. No more. No less.
Use the current week’s prompt word.
Come back here on Thursday, link your post…
Spread the word and put in a good one to your fellow writers 🙂

PROMPT WORD: FOCUS

poetry

Treasures of Life

52830816_10156784988380499_1250891186097356800_n
Art Work by Kayla

Treasures of Life

Folklore and such regard the number 13 as cursed but I say it’s not.
Have you ever found anything justify this to be true?
We had to write an essay about Friday the 13th and this was a mystery.
My baby brother was born five years after me; Mom bought him a t-shirt with the number 13, so there you go.
He was never less than anybody.
He was my heartbeat and each day with him was a treasure.

May I tell you about this boy I treasure?
When he was born, they gave me a choice to go to kindergarten or not.
I made the best choice of anybody.
The thought of having my little baby brother all to myself brought me such joy.
Nowhere was where I wanted to go.
Why anybody would not want such pleasure would be a mystery.

Something happened after my baby brother was born and it is a mystery.
While it was one of those unknowns of nature, it only made us realize that life is a treasure.
He had to have an operation to survive and give life a go.
There never was a negative, doubt or belief in the word of: not.
We all celebrated this precious boy, brought to this world to bring us such joy.
We would have loved if he didn’t have challenges, not to be wished on anybody.

All I knew is that I was as fortunate as anybody.
Although it would remain for us to solve the mystery.
It was important to celebrate each joy.
You learn just how much to treasure.
And deny those things which mean not.
For all the things that give you the go, go, go.

Mother had limits on how she could go.
She did not want to trouble anybody.
Complain, never one time did she, not.
Somehow it all worked like a mystery.
She taught us to care for children was a treasure.
She sang when she cleaned house, keeping time with her flip flops, such joy.

They taught us that life and children brought joy.
We learned that if we wanted to be somewhere, we had to find a way to go.
To have a soul in our hands was a treasure.
We were role modeled not to complain or brag about our lives to anybody.
To live is to accept that life has many a mystery.
And to give up on life is a great big not.

To treasure your life is to know perfect joy.
To never hear not is to know it’s all a great go.
If you ask me now if I could ever love anybody I can tell you that love is a mystery.

—–

Today’s National Poetry Month prompt is from Robert Lee Brewer’s Poetic Asides: for today’s prompt, write a lucky number poem. Some people have lucky numbers, some don’t. Wherever you fall on the lucky number spectrum, you can still write a poem about the phenomenon of lucky numbers and/or luck in general.

Inspired by Aruna Murumurthy and her lovely book of Sestina Poetry: Puppet Dolls, having participated in her Sestina workshop, I am trying to pen my first Sestina. To learn about Sestina you can go to Poetry Foundation or to Poetic Asides Each site has a slightly different point of view about the Sestina.

Uncategorized

6 Sentence Story – Henpecked

herd of hen
Photo by Brett Jordan on Pexels.com

“You ain’t got no drive,” Ellie spoke to Sam, “If it weren’t for bein’ hungry I swear you’d sleep all day long.”

“Shucks Ellie, I got plenty of drive, you jus’ don’ see it ‘cause you sit all day at that TV and watch soap shows and when you ain’t doin’ that you be gossipin’ with Sharlene about who knows what.”

“Sam James, you don’ even know what you be talkin’ ‘bout, ‘cause I make sure you get plen’y to eat and clean up yore messes.”

Sam went to the garage and brought in a cardboard box and slid it across the table toward Ellie, “Here’s somethin’ to show you how much drive I got, Ellie dear;”
Ellie looked in the box and gasped, she pulled out a pair of earrings, sparkling with amethyst crystals, dangling from a silver post, gathering her thoughts, she stated, “Oh my Sam, these are beautiful; where did you find these… how did you find the money?”

“Well, Ellie, it’s from cleanin’ up the henhouse; I found these on the ground, right next to the black lace scarf I gave mama; Wait, are those sirens I hear?”

Rules of the hop:
Write 6 Sentences. No more. No less.
Use the current week’s prompt word.
Come back here on Thursday, link your post…
Spread the word and put in a good one to your fellow writers

Here’s the LINK

to this weeks Blog Hop!