Story Sunday: Journey’s End

 

There, he stood at the twilight of life

where the sun quickly descended for the horizon.

He glanced back and saw all the closed doors.

So many.

Regrets. Wrecked promises. Missed opportunities.

Yet…

there were also realized dreams, unbroken vows, seeds sowed now in full blooms.

Legacies to live beyond the barriers of the physical body.

No, he refused to linger another moment

for there was one remaining door to cross,

into the rising moonbeams that will carry him

up, up

to the final journey.

 

 

 

 

 

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#Story Saturday: Ghosts?

 

*Author’s Note: This story is actually based on a true personal experience.

 

Ghosts?

 

 

if you don’t believe in them, you probably won’t believe my story 

As a young girl around the age of five or six 

I woke up near dawn and saw 

two shadows coming down the hallway 

Two men 

one was tall with an afro who pushed 

a wheelchair of another man 

I watched as they moved across the wall 

but no physical forms materialized 

Frightened, I flung the covers over my head 

and in the next moment 

hands pawed and groped at me  

There I lied as still as possible  

’till the sun rose 

I never told my parents since they’d just 

say it’s my imagination 

Even to this day, I often wonder if those men 

were either ghosts 

or  

the dreaded shadow people 

Guess I may never know

Story Sunday: The Final Sunset

 

She watches as the sun slowly lowered in the purple-hued sky.  Another day is done, and she is alone.

Not really by choice.  Not directly, anyway.

She blames the booze.  She also blames her mother who introduced it to her before she was even in high school.  And because of them both, she never saw graduation.  Just endless days and months in rehab centers.

All for what?

To end up alone and penniless?

Today she buried her mother.  Rather, a woman who gave birth to her.  She never really cared for her.  Not as much as she cared for those colored bottles that forever littered their home.

Mother died a drunk.  That is what she’ll always be known for. Not as a woman who tried to raise a daughter by herself.  Not as a woman who nursed sick and premature babies back to health.  And certainly not as a woman who became the town’s first female mayor.

No, her life has and will always be linked to the bottle.

For years, she defied her mother.  She never wanted to end up like her.

She stood over the wooden casket, deep in the hallowed earth, and allowed the tears to flow.  Not for her mother.  She was happy that the woman, the thorn in her side, was gone. No, she cried for herself.  For her unborn child.

What kind of future will her baby have if her or his mother was a drunk?

A nobody?

Her eyes turn up to the darkening sky. Stars glittering among the dark purple clouds.  A soft breeze sweeps over her like a whisper. Closing her eyes, she tilts her head to one side to listen to this whisper as if it has some great secret to share.

With her eyes still closed, she smiles.

She still has something that her mother no longer has…

A tomorrow.

Another chance of a new beginning.

 

 

 

 

 

Story Sunday: What Happens Next? (The Lurking Visitor)

 

Just had to do this one!  This prompt is taken from Liam J Cross Writing and Editing:

The Prompt

Time to take out the trash.

You sigh as you walk down your driveway. You sigh all the way to the trash can. But when you lift the lid, your sigh dissipates, and you scream.

* * *

What Happens Next?

The lid fell to the cemented ground with a loud *CLANG!* as the sound seemingly echoes throughout the subdivision.  You knew you’d opened your mouth to scream, but only air rose from it.

Blinking hard and furious, you peer down once more…

…to see the wide brown eyes staring back.

Your own eyes.

The eyes held the look of terror with the bloodied mouth framed to look as if it was silently screaming.  You force yourself to see if the rest of the body was in the garbage can, but the neck had been cut in such a way that it appears like someone had torn the head from the body.

“What sick joke is this?!?” You said.

The only thing you hear was more silence until a breeze sweeps through the grids of cookie-cutter houses, and you swear you hear someone whispering in your ear–

“Behold, your future.”