You Are Dead to Me

A six sentence story based on Denise’s prompt – Guard

The Queen has an oinker son who is deserved of being barbecued, for he is a pedophile.

He was born with a silver spoon and has been milking it ever since.

When the shit hit the fan, he hurried to cling to his mother’s skirts.

‘My Queen, I have been naughty; in your Holy book, I am forgiven, it’s my right to be forgiven by you, Mother.’

The Queen swallowed her tears and called out ‘ Guards’.

‘Oh no Mother…oh no…how about my teddies?’ while he was dragged out of the palace.

Taking Chances

Written based on Living Poetry prompt – Restaurant


She goes to her local restaurant
with no bookings
all days of the week
Most days she is accommodated
Busy days, she refuses to leave
Instead
she keeps waiting
hoping someone, some group
takes pitty on her
and willing to share a table
She will repay such kindness
by taking care of the bills
big or small
She doesn’t care
The money is so insignificant
comparing to the company she gets
The only company she gets

Table for Two

Six Sentence Story prompt word – Space


The sun prints on the floor to give a hint of time.
I have been sitting in the chill for longer than I realise.
The coffee has gone cold, and the froth has gone undone.
People perhaps grow tired of me watching them, they call the bill swiftly.
This table is meant to be bridging our hands together.
But with your absence, the space between us grows apart further and deeper.

Predestination

This is written based on Living Poetry word prompt – Race, machine, epigraph

The human race are not machines.
Grease and grime don’t feed us.
Electricity or coal don’t power us.
Carriage or container don’t move us.
We are flesh and blood bear sins.
There was epigraph written long before our birth.
We are of love, power and sound minds.

Centrifugation

Denise’s Six Sentence Story word prompt – Coffee


We used to think of our future as retirees.
You would be content to tie our boat to the pier at sunset, with or without fish for dinner, while I would dream that you played the harmonica in nostalgic tunes by the sea.

We wanted simple things until we didn’t want them anymore, unintentionally.
There had been this period of vacant time, spinning too fast and too wild.
We lost hold of each other, and we lost our substance as one.

I often imagine, the day I learn to forget the past, and you learn to play the harmonica, we will share coffees together like two perfect strangers who fall in love all over again.

Lucky Strike

A six sentence story Word prompt – Strike

When Lucy grew up, the world was a lot different; kids were allowed to buy cigarettes and alcohol in the local grocery stores, mostly for their parents and relatives.

Lucy used to skip down the street in her red plastic flip flops, tightly held the money in her little hand; when she arrived at the grocery store, she reached her hand to the much taller counter and said “A pack of Lucky Strike please”.

The shopkeeper was curious to find out where was the sound coming from as he could not see any customer in his store; “A pack of Lucky Strike please for my Papa.”, this time the little hand was waving the five-dollar note to attract the shopkeeper’s attention.

“Ah, hello you, little one!”;
“My Papa said five dollars to you and two dollars and seventy five cents change for me.”;
“Your Papa is right little one.”
The shopkeeper took the five dollar note, handed back a pack of red Lucky Strike and two dollars and seventy five cents in change.
“Thank you sir!”;
“Oh wait, here is a sweet for you, for being such a good girl.”

Red has been Lucy’s favourite colour which reminds her of being a good girl in her red plastic flip flop, red Lucky Strike in hand and a raspberry red candy on her tongue, a sweet memory of her childhood.

Pure Heat

Living Poetry prompt – Summer


Your perfume hits me
before the summer heat

You walk through the door
while peeling off a work day

Your tan skin busies my eyes
through the shower screen

I race toward you
just in time

Before the cooling water cascades down your toned frame
I bury myself in you
unleashing a full day’s longing

The Boat People

Living Poetry word prompt writing


“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly without complexities or pride.
I love you because I know no other way than this.
So close that your hand, on my chest, is my hand.”

You recite Neruda to your dying husband
in the storm this boat cannot withstand
We may not enter the safe haven after all
My last sight of this calamity is love on display
I thank you fellow refugees
When I close my eyes,
I know the goodness of God