In these murmurous times

garish garments of candle flung on me,

concealing into the blackness of this light,

the quiet that has clouded these eyes,

.

 the voices hushed of stories of this journey,

the door bunged up of narration, by the fortitude

of now confounded moon, eclipsed to aloofness,

.

abandoning the dew drops on the yews

which stand enslaving ye, my soul,

growing distant from the being, identity,

.

I cloaked upon in these murmurous times,

balding my heads, ridding them of

dishevelled wild liberty of ye, my heart,

.

blood being caked onto the knuckles,

enduring the blue, of breathing

vicious fumes, out from within

.

Image Copyright- Erin Leary

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2. Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

Feast: A 100 Word Story

“Is this place haunted?” she asked shaking in the northeasterly freezing wind as much as in fear.

“I hope not.”

“Do we have to go inside?”

“I guess so. We have to finish our job.”

They had been asked to procure an ancient globe from the library of this monolith, by their professor.

“Ahem! Let’s go inside,” she moved ahead finding the massive door, which she pushed. It opened without any difficulty as if it had been in use forever. By the eerie look of that place, it was surprising.

“Welcome you two! The feast is ready,” a voice boomed.

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* For Friday Fictioneers. Unfortunately, I missed last week’s prompt.

Early Morning Meeting: A Creepy 100 Word Story

Copyright -Renee Heath

It was early morning and the usual crowd had not penetrated the streets. Only a few had made an appearance in the morning sunlight. The day was already so hot and humid.

A woman was prancing along the sidewalk when a man came along, “Good Morning darling!”

“Oh! Professor, you here… early… everything closed this area, open at night, all night. Come at 12; people wake up late…take time… and um… you come later,” the immigrant student replied, smiling.

“I had just come to meet you, sweetheart. I thought I must give you some extra lessons for your biology practical.”

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*For Friday Fictioneers.

Honey: A 100 Word Story

Copyright – Jennifer Pendergast

“Extracting honey isn’t that hard,” the beekeeper laughed, “You may get a sting or two. Let me show you. I let the bees stay in their natural surroundings. They have made a hive in my backyard.”

They went to the backyard to look at the operation of the whole procedure.

The beekeeper carried plant stems and tree bark and burnt them at the foot of the tree. Soon, the bees appeared, buzzing and swarming away, as the smoke penetrated in the air around.

Everyone was awed as the keeper climbed up the tree to procure the honey comb for sweet honey.

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* For Friday Fictioneers.

Vacation: A 100 Word Story

 

Copyright – Douglas M. MacIlroy

“Where do you wanna go for the vacation?” he asked his two whiny teenage kids.

“Beach…, sea-side of course, dad. I want to sit, seeing the white-foamy waves of the sea, and read,” the gangly fourteen-year old said.

“Nerd!” replied his twin sister who couldn’t be any more different than him, “Don’t listen to him. We’ll go to the hill-side. I would love to hike. Oh! It is going to be so much fun…”

“Dad…”

“Dad…”

“How about a hilly region where there is a beach?”

“I’ll manage,” they groaned together.

They did not know what their father had in mind.

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*For Friday Fictioneers

World Famous Site: A 100 Word Story

“And here you see the world-famous site,” the tour-guide made a point under the shade of the tree.

“What?”
“Are you serious?”
“Really?”
All the tourists put forth their opinion.

“You don’t believe me. Have you ever seen such a phenomenal thing? There were even talks of taking it under the protection of UNESCO World Heritage List. I think the government is making provisions to do so.”

“Are you sure this tree… uh… tree-cycle… cycle clung, no hung to tree is a famous site… huh?” a kid asked seriously.

“Oh what? I was talking about the ancient fort on your left.”

Copyright –Anelephantcant

* For Friday Fictioneers Writing Prompt.

Kid: A 100 Word Story

“We have reached the graveyard. But will you now tell me why have we come here?”

“Wait for a while and you will know.” He entered the graveyard.

He had reached quite ahead when the other fellow jogged to him, “Where are we going?”

“Why, to pick someone…” He guffawed.

“Don’t be sinister buddy and tell me.”

He had by then stopped near a grave.

“Why have you stopped, who is buried here?”

He ignored the question and picked up the kid standing solemnly behind the grave into his arms, “I have come to get him, meet Rosie’s kid goat.”

Copyright – Randy Mazie

*For Friday Fictioneers Writing Prompt.