Blue is one of the ancient colours among turquoise, navy and coral. They belong to a group of nature colours once existed on earth. Many poets, painters and song writers produced arts for centuries inspired by these colours.
There used to be a major hydrosphere called ocean which helped regulate the temperature across the globe. Then the temperature of the earth continued to rise at an irreversible speed. The result of that was the dry out of oceans and extinction of the related colours.
“Welcome to GirlieOnTheEdge and Sunday’s prompt word reveal for Six Sentence Stories!
What if we had a clock where, instead of the ordinals representing hours, they represented months? At the end of the 12th month, it would roll over to the next year and a number would flash in the center of the clock. The optional feature (of course) is what the year represents. Option 1: your age. Option 2: the current year. Regardless of the numerics, at the conclusion of 12 months, the clock would begin flashing, there, in the center either the YEAR or your AGE…
Hey, let’s give it up for Cassa Bassa! She took me up on last Sunday’s post invitation to provide this week’s prompt word. You go girl! Have a fantastic week everyone. Challenge yourself. Do something different.
Rules of the hop: Write 6 Sentences. No more. No less. Use the current week’s prompt word. Return here, link your post Wednesday night through Saturday late… Spread the word and put in a good one to your fellow writers 😀
PROMPT WORD: MARVEL
“Words are the most subtle symbols which we possess, and our human fabric depends on them.” – Iris Murdoch”
She was as slim as a cigarette. He longed to be the filter between her divine lips. Each smoke circle she oozed out blurred his vision and dizzied his mind. He remembered what his Mama said to him ‘they came to steal your soul son.’ He pressed his hand firmly on her sexy mouth to muffle the screams till her eyes were wide open. Eventually she was extinguished like a cigarette butt before being tossed to the dumpster.
Christmas is the celebration of a true King born in a barn. A son was born from wedlock.
All the Christmas decorations are up and in grand display. It grieves me to walk the hussle bussle street in twinkling lights and watch ashen faces begging for spare change. I often wonder is the spare change you ask for, or the human love you call me to share.
‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.’ – Matthew 25:40
I have never seen such sallow vacant eyes. They are the aftermath of a night’s terror in a haunted house with rotting beams full of bats. Even the early Summer sun and warm breeze does not bring hope. A lone scruffy man sits on a weathered park bench. Crows are roaming around him unearthing grubs. I wonder if those park crows ever consider pecking him like they do with carrion.
We bade each other farewell at graduation in 1988.
Our grown-up duty called us from the popular college band we played in.
Good bye to those nights when we smoked some weed and waxed some new tracks.
Coffee and cigarettes stained not only our teeth but also our memory.
What remained was this faded photo with all of us lined up in our flamboyant bell bottom jeans.
I took off my fogged up reading glasses, wiped off my tears and slowly sipped my herbal tea.