The salt seemed to lift off the waves, murmuring his grief and causing tiny bruises on his skin. He wondered if all the tears of ancestors made up the depths of oceans. He stood at the edge of the water, wishing it had all been a nightmare and the cool fresh breeze from the saltwater would wake him.
After, he stood with the others at the cemetery, the useless wants of his mind discarded, and faced the field of mourners. It was a short service and then he returned to the beach, letting more tears fill the sea.
***
I am not a horror fan but really liked the Netflix offering: “Mr. Harrigan’s Phone”, based on a short story by Stephen King. A teaser below, don’t read any further or watch trailer before watching. 😳. But of course I give you the trailer😁🙄
“When Mr. Harrigan dies, Craig, the teen who befriended and did odd jobs for him, puts his smart phone in his pocket before burial.”
***
https://toy.photography/2022/10/10/-night/tourmaline-s-halloween-challenge/?amp=1
I never know what you’re thinking
You’re certainly not windy
However I can feel the cold
When I’ve been careless or too breezy
My preference in atmosphere definitely is hot
Up close and personal with you is my favorite spot.
***
This week’s theme is THE WEATHER
Your three words today are: COLD HOT
WINDY. https://pensitivity101.wordpress.com/2022/10/22/three-things-challenge-m124/
***
https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2022/10/22/weekend-writing-prompt-282-opposite/
Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “bowl.” Use it as a noun or a verb—use it any way you’d like. Enjoy!
Life can be a bowl of cherries, you just need to avoid the pits.
http://lindaghill.com/2022/10/21/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-oct-22-2022/
https://toy.photography/2022/10/10/-night/tourmaline-s-halloween-challenge/?amp=1
A Monoku is a type of poem which is made up of a single horizontal line. Traditionally considered as a haiku writing, it is currently accepted as a variant of the haiku form of poetry. Monoku emerged as an independent style of poetry in the 1970s.
***
The art of compromise is a wavering tightrope always moving.
You must be logged in to post a comment.