Three Line Tales #129

How may I help you, Madame?

I’m not a Madame.

How may I help you, Miss?

I’m not a Miss.

How may I help you, Ms?

I’m not a Ms.

May I help you mon Cheri?

I’m not your sweetheart.

May I help you, mother?

I’m not your mother!

I would like to help you if I can, dear.

I’m not your dear either!

I see we have a communication problem. May I just open the laptop for you. . .person?

Finally, if you have to address me, it’s Mrs. Jones!

I’m terribly sorry, Mrs. Jones, but my battery is dead.

Three Line Tales, Week 129

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Putting My Feet in the Dirt 18

The old man pointed a finger

At a rose in the garden sweet

“Yup, that’s a real humdinger

Worthy of a poem or three

Grew it myself” he offered proudly

Then chuckled rather loudly

“It’s in the soil, that’s all there’s to it”

Pointing to the pile of horse sh–!

2018/07/01/July-writing-prompts/

100 Word Wednesday #80

What is the feeling we see here

Seeing persons from the rear

Faces full of goodbye sorrow

Or smiles of a returning hero

Some would say a bit of both

Darkening clouds may tell the truth

Whitened clouds may feelings soothe

Surrounded by the waiting crowd

To say goodbye and cry out loud

Or a welcoming and hesitant

Unknowing of the return intent

All loved ones wish them to stay

But duty calls them back in days

They pray, they write notes of concern

While far away awards are earned

It will always be this way

Young people in the fray.

〰〰〰

100 Word Wednesday: Week 80

Word of the Day: Potential

In today’s world of politics

The brazen approach is used

Zealots’ boots being licked

While old friends being abused

What are these unfettered speeches

Secret, hidden rendezvous

Meetings of the empowered leeches

Discarding known for dangers new

Hard to think too much

The outcome of a secret lunch

With frightening potential

When loyalty should be essential

https://talesfromthemindofkristian.wordpress.com/2018/07/17/potential/

The Secret Keeper #158

Image : sumerianalien.com

“The night is dark and full of terrors” – Game of Thrones

She only knew the way by watching the Dog Star. If she kept it on her right side through the meadow, she would be safe. In the thick woods where the star wasn’t visible, she had marked a few trees to show her the way. The woods weren’t dangerous or frightening during the day but at night she wanted to make quick work of them.

It was only a legend after all, no one had seen anything ethereal in the last century. However, the stories were chilling and Sophia took no chances. Every step was rehearsed in the daylight, and at night when this trek was necessary, she was confident as she could be all would be well.

Growing up with those scary stories, it was difficult for any child to feel comfortable in the darkness. It was not ghosts they really feared, because every old home had a ghost of sorts. It might be in the form of a moving window curtain, a slammed door when no one was close to it, or a creaking from the attic floorboards, all indications of a half-welcomed guest. Sophia was fairly used to the idea that family members never really left earth, but stayed close in spirit form, and it never frightened her, just startled her once in a while.

The nightly travels from her work to home were practiced. She had many times pretended to be chased or followed and arranged hiding places or safe caves she could duck into if needed. The Dog Star seemed to be a faithful companion on these nightly trips, ever vigilant, watching over her till she arrived home safely.

Weekly Writing Challenge #150