The Bag Lady

The lines I have chosen for you to include in your Prosery are:

“And I’ll bury my soul in a scrapbook,
with the photographs there and the moss.”

Here’s how to take part in Prosery:

Write a piece of flash fiction of up to or exactly 144 words, including the given line in the order in which it has been given. You may add or change punctuation, but you may not add words in between the given ones. Post your Prosery on your blog and link back to this post. Link it up to our Mr. Linky. Don’t forget to check the little box to accept use/privacy policyVisit other blogs. Enjoy some amazing writing, and don’t forget to comment – and have fun.

***

“And I’ll bury my soul in a scrapbook,
with the photographs there and the moss.”

A warm day, rain hanging in clouds, ready to burst once the sky darkens a bit more. A time to ponder, as I am this morning, with time to think. Days of muted sun cause a melancholy and I often sit too long with my thoughts. Today is a concern for a grandson, living about five hours away now, away from family that he needs, and wants to return to. An adult now of course, but still…

I open the well worn book and see pictures of happier days when grandchildren flocked around, eager to see what’s in the cookie jar, or at the park asking for one more push on the swing. So I’ll bury my soul in a scrapbook, with the photographs there and the moss.

***

Take This Waltz

Not a novel concept, unable to face the world alone, always prevalent in the vast darkness of a sleepless night. When Sara wakes, her routine of walking the beach begins. Sara silently offers a prayer to keep the river of guilt far from her mind. Seeing the waves every day is a haunting ache, a reminder of what she did, and what she failed to do. Sadly, keeping those secrets will never end, just as the sea flows constantly over the sand.

***

https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/

A joyful stroll down a quiet street
In town known for Christmas treats
There is no joy for Halloween
Never a ghost or goblin seen,
Yet underneath the righteous church
Held in cages made of black birch,
Lawmen’s watchful eyes are at work.

See only the peaceful view of town
Villagers don’t venture down
Underneath the snowy streets,
Where the law and evil meet.
Secrets there in dungeons dark
Are quite a contrast to snowy parks
Where people stroll on sidewalks, clean
And under the church is never seen.

Wealthy holiday visitors are invited
Holidays show above town exciting.
Down in the bowels beneath the crosses
Pain and death cause many losses.

Women are held in cages strong
Women held many years long
Lawmen keep their distance, safe
When by the “witches”, quicken their pace.
Above a peaceful white Christmas card
But under is blood red and survival hard.

***

No Theme Thursday: 08.08.24

***

No Theme Thursday: 08.08.24

Handmade scary
Always wary
Of other cooks
Even it looks
Appetizing
Hands sanitizing
Some people don’t
Therefore I won’t
Partake.

***

Weekend Writing Prompt #376 – Handmade

Use this as an open-link opportunity and forum to share something…anything… of your own.

• Share smiles 
• Share snapshots
• Share successes
• Share sorrows
• Share stories
• Share suggestions
• Share solutions

Whatever you like, the floor is yours!

I’m going to share some great news from “Stars and Stripes”:

Showcase & Share – Saturday Mix, 10 August 2024

Is it me or did we just sail this ship a day ago? Time is passing fast, look at the date! Me and the years are like ships in the night—okay. That wasn’t even funny or interesting. My writing talent ship has sailed. Okay! No more! I’m actually having a great few days as it has been raining! That’s an oddity for Wyoming and my patio plants are loving every drop of it. And it saves me multiple trips with a gallon jug of water in my lap going from the kitchen sink to the patio. On an even brighter note, my granddaughter’s 18th birthday will be celebrated on Sunday, so 🥳YEA!

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS Aug. 10, 2024

Magda’s powers were awesome, but had their limits. Tonight she was pulling out all the stops, from every bottle of potion, and lit every candle with the meaning of change, gathered every map for the continuation of good, and waved her hands over all. Chanting the incantation she hoped would save the world as it was a second century ago, she felt a change. Magda wanted to see it again, when things were normal for her kind, when men were brave and fought for freedom, when a king ruled for the greater good. She relaxed her arms, and felt a relief. In the morning she would see if her spells worked.

***

No Theme Thursday: 08.08.24

My daughter and her 18 year old daughter were riding in the car to Denver. Then this song started playing, the granddaughter’s new favorite😳. I said, what, is this an old fifties song? Nope, just released a few days ago. 🤯 How cool is this?

***

https://rugby843.blog

Love my garden joy

When come drops of rain

Petals seem to reach

For nourishment cast

Joy in the watching

As the seasons pass

Blooms are a bonus

Alas, never last

—

Gardening is fun

Joy easily seen

Patience it does teach

With constant aid, sun

New gardener, I

Not a number one

Trying to learn fast

Need a master class.

***

MTB: An Octameter for August and Sara Teasdale