Eclipsed

 

“When the daylight returned the King was dead”, the obituary read. As they gathered at the gate with candles, bouquets wailing the length of his days cut short the King slipped out into a Wrangler purchase just recently made. “Tragic, tragic” most wept, though poetically ought be weeped, while some begrudgingly grumbled who’d get it that Jeep.

Who knew?

He knew t’were the only way he’d have a life, theirs’d go on in these modern times as caterers called prepared brunch for new friends who didn’t care who or wherever he’d been, and the widow next door leathery-tanned, smile dazzling walked in.

 

Eyes sparkling he grinned.

 

 

 

The prompt this week:

 

“…when the daylight returned the king was dead…”

 

100wcgu-7 

 

https://jfb57.wordpress.com/2015/03/23/100-word-challenge-for-grown-ups-week172/

 

Sheepish

 

Were you really silly enough to think I’d go without seeing you first? That was an update and a place I went in 1986.

 

If you thought I was given a gift for Christmas to travel, the first question you should have asked was “when are you departing and how many days before that will you be here?”

 

I’d been up past midnight trying to find a flight that would get me to you. Christmas was the same deal because of the snow. How about a little faith? You are first on the list… nothing else.

 

 

 

 

100wcgu-7

https://jfb57.wordpress.com/2015/03/16/100-word-challenge-for-grown-ups-week171/

 

The prompt was “outside a shop in China Town, San Francisco” : 

 

 

Twilight

 

Fresh crisp liquid I savor

As an elegant pearl onion works its way

Through crushed ice

To a pinnacle, yes, at the bottom of the glass

Crystal frosted etched design

Lucid

 

Like my grandfather used to make

That brought a tear to my eye

Way back when

 

Another with broken icebergs

Floating

As a second pearl rests

Still, sophisticated

I drink and am awakened

I absorb flavors deep

And exhale heady refreshness

The world sparkles

Eyes shine

 

A pitchfork swizzle, I spear my jewel prize

Glass chink-clinks

And I imagine years past

Strapless dresses

Straight skirts and suits

A ceiling fan hums

 

Of all the gin joints

I hear in my mind

But it was only a movie

 

Cold steam in my eyes

We’ll always have Martini

Drink deep, I imbibe

 

Piglet

 

 

She’d pat the piglet

Her pet

Hoping they wouldn’t but they did.

Pit readied, coals perfect

Into the pot it was placed after slitting it’s throat

Of course it was skinned and intestines removed

 

Into the pot it was put

(A better way to say?)

 

Delicious they said

Meat so tender it’s true

But she wouldn’t eat

Not one bite

She could not

Not yet

“What we get from the store doesn’t bother you”

But being the point

The wound now too new

 

 

 

 socs-badge

http://lindaghill.com/2015/03/13/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-march-1415/

 

Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is:

                                                                     “pat/pet/pit/pot/put.” 

Overpowering

 

She’d done it. Bought the high-end stuff no turning back. With the lemon wedged and salt at the ready, she opened the box, removed the wrapper around the cap and broke the seal. “Seal, angels of death, Armageddon, humph…”

Using care she aligned crystals along the purlicue, admiring the curved precision she filled the shooter with the other hand and breathed it in. The scent was overpowering as she teased salt to coat her tongue, filled her mouth with liquid biting down on a wedge as she swallowed.

 

Eyes closed, she fell back into cushions and exhaled.

 

 

100wcgu-7

https://jfb57.wordpress.com/2015/03/10/100-word-challenge-for-grown-ups-week170/

____________________

The prompt this week is:

…the scent was overpowering…

 

Having Taste: A Word From Our Sponsor

 

Sphfffstspt! The automatic air freshener spat its mist. She jumped raising her eyes in annoyance for forgetting one more time what the sound was. No one was standing there; it wasn’t an animal, no long lost Boa or anything like that. She’d bought the batteries herself so it’d work again envisioning the fragrance would lend a heady aura throughout the apartment. More often than not if she opened her mouth to eat when the timer released there was musky aftertaste, not a very good seasoning. Meh.

 

“Why would the last tenants hang that thing in the kitchen? Didn’t they cook?”