We measure our lives
In syncopated heartbeats
our days are numbered.
kat ~ 23 December 2015
A Haiku in response to Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge #76. Prompt words Sing & Day. I was tempted to try Ronovan’s new poetry format, the Freku, but holiday festivities are jealous for my time. Maybe in 2016. Happy Holidays to all. If you’d like to read more, click HERE.
“Go! I’ll cover you.”
The deadly last words one hears
Under friendly fire.
Details were covered
Every moment rehearsed
Except for the rain.
They played for hours
Covered by a makeshift fort
Under the table.
The star-studded dome
Covers the neon city
Competing light shows.
Dust covers each inch
Of the long forgotten home
No one lives to tell.
kat ~ 23 December 2015
A few Haiku for Haiku Horizons weekly challenge. This weeks prompt: Cover. If you would like to read more, click HERE.
She visits him every day in the prison. People struggle to understand how she could. He was, after all responsible for the death of her son.
Rainy days are especially hard, because it was raining on the night of the accident. Josh was driving a bit too fast around that curve. And Jeffrey? If only he had been wearing his seatbelt that night, he wouldn’t have been thrown from the car when it hit the tree.
She used to replay the accident and the trial in her mind on the long walks to the prison. Sometimes the grief and bitterness would overcome her and she would have to stop for a moment to regain her composure. But not anymore. No, not anymore.
Time and grace have helped her to embrace the gift of forgiveness. The more she got to know Josh, the more she realized how alike he and Jeffrey are. They were best friends after all. In a small way Josh connects her to the son she lost. And so she visits every day.
kat ~ 23 December 2015
(175 Words)
A story for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (FFfAW). Thanks Priceless Joy for this week’s challenge and also to Etol Bagam for this beautiful thought-provoking prompt!q if you’d loke to read other stories or enter your own, click HERE.
Photo Credit: A Mixed Bag 2004
He didn’t have one of those gross stick-on beards, and he even spoke Spanish to the little girl three kids up. That could only mean one thing. He just might be the “real” Santa.
Hannah would know for sure soon. The real Santa would know her name, without her telling it, of course.
When Hannah’s turn came, Santa bellowed,. “Ho ho ho! Aren’t you a pretty girl. What’s your name?”
Hannah scowled. Just as she had suspected. An imposter! She stood her ground. She wasn’t about to share her secret wish with a fake Santa!
But Santa was a wise old elf. He had faced this test before. So intent was Hannah’s stare down that she hardly noticed his split second glance toward her Mom who mouthed, “Hannah,” from behind.
With a twinkle in his eye, tilting his head, Santa finally said, “Hmmmm…I believe you are Hannah. Am I right?”
Delighted, Hannah hopped onto Santa’s lap and whispered her secret wish in his ear. It would most certainly come true. Santa’s wink and nod at Hannah’s mom assured it.
kat ~ 22 December 2015
(182 Words)
This story is in response to Sunday Photo Fiction’s Weekly Challenge. To read more stories or enter your own based on the photo prompt above, click HERE.
like mercury colliding... 