Kamakura, Japan, December, 2014
when the waves break
upon the shore
with not so much but a whimper
take to heed that
to the speck of sand
transported
from the depths of the ocean
up to the shore
the movement was
momentous and the water,
in its course,
god
This post is part of Stream of Consciousness Saturday! Click here to see how you can join in: https://lindaghill.com/2016/05/20/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-may-2116/
The doorbell’s ring had an ominous tone. It was with trepidation that I opened it; the bright sunlight burned my retinas, and it took a moment for the two policemen at my door to come into focus.
“Yes?” My voice shook.
“Are you Mr. James Miller?”
“I am.”
“Are you familiar with the name,” the officer looked down at his notepad and then back up to me, “Greta Miller?”
“She’s my great-aunt on my mother’s side. Is she okay?”
“I’m sorry to inform you, Mr. Miller, your aunt has passed away. We have you listed as her sole survivor.”
I felt my face crumple as I cried, “I killed her!”
The two officers moved quickly to handcuff me. “What did you do with the gun, Mr. Miller?” one of them asked.
“Gun? What gun? I posted a meme on Facebook that guaranteed me a fortune – and now Aunt Greta has gone and left me her all her money!”
“Is… that how you killed her, Sir?”
“I DIDN’T THINK IT WOULD WORK!!!” I’d never felt so distraught in my life.
“Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.” Hannah read the sticker pasted over the Happy Acres sign at the end of the long, dusty driveway. She knew she’d been here before, but she didn’t remember why.
“Dad said there were hookers here,” said her husband, Jessie.
“Well, they’d better be male strippers, ‘coz if they’re female, you’re not gonna last long.”
“Pfft,” Jessie scoffed. They got back in the car and headed up the lane way to check themselves in.
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Tuesday Use It In A Sentence is fun! This week’s word is “abandon.” Try it out! The link to join in is here.
“You can only survive for twenty-four hours without a drink.”
“Nuh-uh! You’ll die in fif… I mean twelve.”
“Nuh-uh! My dad told me it was a whole day!”
“Wanna bet?”
“Sure!”
“Okay. Don’t have a drink for the rest of the day and see if you wake up tomorrow.”
“…I’m thirsty.”
“Me too. Let’s go to my place. My mom made Kool-Aid.”
the handiwork of the devil
the condition which designed
textspeak
emojis
put off essays
and eternally drafted plots
and what of the characters
who appear just to die
like the big-boobed blond
in a horror show
without even the benefit
of the scream-and-jiggle eye-candy moment
the writer’s game
is housecleaning heaven
and plodding trips to the cupbaord
when all he needs
is a shower to bring them all to life
a clean start to throw away
beelzebub with the bath water
“Happy Children’s Day,” said the mother to her son on Mother’s Day morning.
“What do you mean?” asked the son.
“If I’ve done my job right,” explained the mother, “you will derive more pleasure from spoiling me than I will for being spoiled.”
The son smiled, “You’re right, Mummy! Please enjoy your sardine pancakes. I brought syrup, too!”
the page is snowy white
a surface of purity
of blankness
but what if the page was green?
lush and fertile
would it be easier to write?
or would I take off my shoes
and run through it
passing off future possibilities
for the moment?
the page on which I write
is marked
with satisfaction
bearing in mind
the bare facts
fuzzy-wuzzy
may have been
a threadbare
bear
“But Martha! You can’t start a soap opera in the middle! People will never watch!”
“Oh Peter, you idiot. They do it all the time! They turn on the television one afternoon and they sit down with their glass of scotch and they’re hooked!”
“They do?”
“Of course they do. Do you think everyone who watches an afternoon serial started at the beginning? For God’s sake, Peter! Most of the shows are older than their viewers!”
“So that means…”
Martha raises one perfectly plucked eyebrow.
“That means…”
“Come on, Peter, spit it out!”
“That means we have viewers!”
“By George, I think he’s got it! Someone give the man a cookie!”
may your clouds be always fluffy
may your fruits be ever fresh
may your tests not all be toughies
may mozzies* be stopped by mesh
may your holidays be jolly
may your sleeps be peaceful too
may your dreams not end up folly
may you never get the flu
happy may!
*mosquitoes
Linda G. Hill 