Forever

Hand in hand, the lovers ran. As fast as they could, knowing this was their only escape.

Falling in love left her no choice. Fearing the anger of her father, Penelope knew she must run away before he found out.

Although it pained to leave her father, mother and sisters, being with her love outweighed all else.

But Zeus had spotted them. They could no longer be trusted. As punishment, and, a signal to her sisters Penelope would be frozen. No longer taking human form, she was left with her lover, a monument, and warning to the remaining nine muses.
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Written for Friday Fictioneers.

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/friday-fictioneers-2/

Based on on the prompt at:

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2013/01/09/11-january-2013/

Peace

Leave
Go away
Get out
Now!
Get the hell out of here
Fuck off
Piss off
Scram, scoot, skedaddle
Just go
Aaarghhhhhh.
Am I talking to the wall or something.

Please.....

Door slams.
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Written for Trifextra week forty eight.

http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/2012/12/trifextra-week-forty-eight.html?m=1

At: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/?m=1

Christmas Present

“For Johnny?”

“We got him a scooter.”

“And mummy?”

“We bought her some perfume, and new slippers.”

“Slippers?”

“Yes – hers are worn out. Do you think she’ll like these.”

“They’re purple! Her favourite colour. What about Brad?”

“Brad won’t be here this year. He’s still overseas. I sent him a food parcel and a beautiful jumper.”

“I thought he was going to be back for Christmas.”

“No, he’s doing an important job. He’s got to stay. We’ll see him soon.”

“I wish he was here.”

“Me too Pushki. Now, enough talk. Let’s finish decorating the tree and set the table.”


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Written for Friday Fictioneers

Virtually Pure

The cost for bad thoughts, cheating, lying, blasphemy, not paying taxes, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. Insert generic sin. The currency, clearly defined. Our Fathers and Hail Marys. I sit behind the screen and listen. Make a price. Give penance, absolution, heal. Transaction done. Next please.

"Father, I have sinned...

Of course you have. Cut to the chase. You want the numbers, the price. No need for ritual or form. It’s all the same. I've heard it before. You've done it before.

Maybe we should simplify. Modernise. Get with the program. Time to put up a list, or a website. www.confessmysins.somethingorother. Period since last confession; click: Sins committed; menu: Number of repeats; click: Terms and conditions; check box: Disclaimer not necessary: Submit button; click: Are you sure; yes/no; click: Moving graphic: please wait; processing.

That will be two Hail Marys and one Our Father. Come back soon.

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Written for Trifecta: Week Fifty-Six

Using the word HEAL, in the context to restore to original purity or integrity <healed of sin>

The Gatekeeper

“He betrayed me”

“Betrayed you? How.”

“I trusted him. I made him the gatekeeper. His sole duty was to show the way. He was to lead them to the gates. He was to point them towards the place where they would spend eternity. For that his reward... to remain mortal.”

“And what happened.”

“Not only did he not fulfil his duty. He actively worked against me. He pointed them towards the land of the living. He thought he could rescue them. He sent them back.”

“And where is he now?”

“Now and forever he will only show the true direction.”

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100 words, written for FridayFictioneers.

The Grump (in homage to My Favourite Things)

Scowling and snarling and loudly complaining

Bitching and howling not a moment of peace

Grumpy and gnarly I moan when I sing

Grumbling is one of my favourite things

When the world scowls

......

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Written for Trifextra: Week Forty-Three:

"In 1959, Rodgers and Hammerstein wrote the music for the Broadway production, The Sound of Music.  One of the most famous songs from the musical is "My Favorite Things."  Since its inception, the song has been covered by countless artists, and we're asking you to follow suit.  Give us a few of your favorite things, in whichever form you want, in 33 words exactly."

Monument

Once mere objects, held back to spare the environment

How you have evolved

Become markers of time, reminders of events past

You held the force that controlled light and sound

You let us see and speak, hear and listen

Then, you were spat out, your flesh consumed

You, who held the power to move gadgets, gizmos, machines and devices

Now, just monuments to consumption, symbols of usage

No longer able to provide, you are empty, spent

Oh little cylinders, dormant in your cage, filling space

What history you posses

What memories you hold

What moments were captured by your spark

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100 words written for Friday Fictioneers.