The Man

It’s time for Friday Fictioneers again! This week, our photo prompt is the image above, by © J Hardy Carroll.

It could be worse.

At least there is a toilet and The People bring me food and water.

Sometimes, The Man comes alone.

I don’t like what he makes me do, but all I have to do is lay there.

Damn, does he ever stink!

Once, he brought me a pair of pretty-pink shoes (just to look at), since I’d “done good.”

I quit hoping someone would find me. The house is on a worn path, hidden by huge, gnarled oak trees.

I’m shackled, but the chains allow me to walk almost to the gate —

almost,

but not

quite.

 

r.nial.bradshaw

A Nanosecond

It’s Quadrille Monday over at the dVerse Poets Pub! This time our writing prompt is some form of the word crack.

Almost never

a sliver of sunlight cracks through

the brick-like layer of eternal gloom.

For a nanosecond I convince myself that

you are at work

or the hardware store.

The accident never happened;

It was all a mistake

and you’ll be home

any minute.

 

(for Delfina O.)

 

A Broken Heart

Today at the dVerse Poets Pub, we are to write a poem about anticipation, waiting, or hoping.


Delicate snowflakes swirl

and sparkle in mid-day sun,

dusting her feathers a

diaphanous silver glaze.

among the frozen foliage

her mate finds her

and gently shields her with a

massive wing

puzzled as the snow

where she lie turns pink, then red

he huddles closer

and waits. He waits for

a heartbeat, a flinch

a breath, a sound —

any sign of life.

Still, he stays

and he waits with

a protective wing

over her lifeless body.

Never leaving

as the sun sets

and the snow keeps falling.