In Fifty Words

Somewhat autobiographical somewhat fictional, but mostly because I like a challenge, these are: 50 word moments in 50 words. No more no less.

[infiftywords]

Get Up.

Get up. Walk across a room to stop. Stare at the empty wall and let its vast blankness overwhelm you, because in the ten footsteps it took for you get out of bed to cross to that wall, you began to see the enormity of your life. Now change it.

[infiftywords]

Next Day

A bit of bravery belying a bittersweet exchange. He to me and me to he, closer to what we don't yet know. Do we? I reach recesses to recall, reclaim words.. his and mine.

What senseless spirit seized my tongue, spouting such sincerities? What then, Heart? Hold. Hold to hope.

[infiftywords]

Bewildered

How it is we have walked—and often lain—on such a road as this… and yet you do not know me?

You know not my words, dreams, my secret self? Be the fault mine?

Was I so content to rest in your shade, I forgot to share my light?

[infiftywords]

.. a dream

And upon the path to the gentle pooled waters, wherein bathed the sisters and souls of whom I loved, I observed a bear which—after an age of slumber beneath the great stones and rippling green of this earth—unhinged its jaws... and therein I beheld the depth of dawn.

[infiftywords]

Judgement XX

Like the brightly hued delights of childhood, which I covertly buried after shame-birthed disuse, so lies a luminescent self sleeping in the shade of my knowing. So was I born in ignorance, blinded and naked, let me then step in the light of my death disrobed and known. Awakened.

[infiftywords]

In search

Who am I? Where am I? Is it in the stitches.. the deeds.. The words?  Can I find my essence within or is it carried by the love around me?

Repeated, reaffirmed, reflected by the echoes of my soul. At the end, at the beginning, am I truly only myself?.

[infiftywords]

Illusion

Oft you dare to dream, though fear and logic stay you. Yet as cold wet roots do the tips of their dry green leaves, so the dream splits—One half sailing on tomorrow's victory, the other sinking in subterranean pools of murk... for what if this dream is just—that?

[infiftywords]

The Journal

The book lay cleft in half, its tear-stained pages littering the floor. They, like the girl who’d poured her heart and ache into them, were no longer bound.

Hours later, she sat, a needle and thread in hand. She, like the re-sewn remnants of her past, was now composed.

[infiftywords]

Royal

A sharp stench of tobacco and whiskey emanated from her. Her deep-set eyes were framed by leathery bronzed wrinkles. Her hair was disheveled, static, possibly smattered with bits of pigeon feces. Yet upon a cardboard throne, shoulders draped in tattered blankets - she was every bit as regal as a queen.

[infiftywords]

Examined

In truth, she’d always thought God was a little creepy. An unwanted critic, incessantly spying on her. She pictured, at the end of her life, having to re-watch it all, like a documentary and God the overbearing director, pointing out her grave mistakes. She hoped there’d at least be popcorn.

[infiftywords]

A Late Morning

A raven swooped by unnoticed. He sat peacefully, empty cup in hand, mindlessly chewing swelled earl grey tea leaves. His green eyes rested on blurs of branches dancing the august wind. Earlier he'd taken a single spoonful of honey for good spirits. He didn't know today would be his last.

[infiftywords]

Alive

The path is my own. To find, to follow, to keep. Though others may meet and share my steps, it is certain that this can only be temporary. Knowing this is the hardest bit. May I have acceptance as my daily bread, and the found bits of joy my sweet butter.

[infiftywords]

Winded path

The wind is indiscriminate, weathering both branch and stone. My hair whips behind me, as I walk headstrong against it. What else does the wind take with it? I reflect. Sorrow, joy, love. As I continue on, the rustling of the leaves seems but the sound of the human song.

[infiftywords]

Closing time

She cranked up the music, creating a static that threatened to implode the stereo. It was too loud even for her ears, but it was necessary. The tables and chairs were stacked unceremoniously, the air conditioner clicked to off. In a moment she would release the jar of flies.

[infiftywords]

Cumulous

Great billowy palaces cumulated, crowned with light and beauty, and the earth submitted willingly. Mount Olympus is ever-changing, at times dark and wrathful. One below might rightly fear Zeus himself and his vengeful bolts of lightning. But right then, winged above the sun-kissed cloud city, I could smile.

[infiftywords]

Hungry

A new hunger had begun to churn in the belly of his being. His essence was salivating for something. Anything… yet- nothing could satisfy. His feet were weak from wandering, eyes blinded from searching. His blood was thin, extremities jittery. He had never craved so desperately what he didn't know.

[infiftywords]

The unwanted guest

“I do important things,” he said, fingernailing poppy seeds from his teeth.

“Yes, well.. I suppose that’s .. admirable,” she replied. Why was he telling her this? She was getting anxious. “Don’t you have plans for today?”

He spat, putting up his filthy feet. This was turning into an unpleasant afternoon.