Parasite tales

Behavior control, Nature's way ....

The trees

(100-word flash fiction for Friday Fictioneers)

THE TREES

The trees have taken over the earth. The humans thought they were on top of the pyramid. But all it took was one storm. Unknotted by lightning, unrolled by thunder, and rain. Unrelenting rain. The humans got buried under their own debris. The earth had turned into water, a liquid tomb, which softly sucked at all that flesh.

When it stopped, there were worms everywhere. In eye sockets that once had dreamt dreams, chest cavities where had throbbed hearts, pelvises that had borne generations. The trees had eaten the rest.

Their trunks are now beginning to look like human limbs.

~~~

100-word flash fiction for Friday Fictioneers at Rochelle’s. Written for the image prompt below.

Poem of the day - Up on top

by Olav H. Hauge

After stumbling a long time over impossible trails
you are up on top.
Hardship didn't crush you, you trod it
down, climbed higher.

That's how you see it. After life has tossed you
away, and you ended up on top
like a one-legged wooden horse on a dump.
Life is merciful, it blinds and provides illusions,
and destiny takes on our burden:
foolishness and arrogance become mountains and marshy places,
hate and resentment become wounds from enemy arrows,
and the doubt always with us becomes cold dry
rocky valleys.

You go in the door.
The pot lies upside down in the hearth,
it sprawls with hostile black feet.

Wind - haiku

the flowers bend

the plants bend, the tree, alas!

gets uprooted

~~~

footprints tremble

up the surface of the lake

mischievous wind

~~~

gusts of memories

run amok in the present

devastation

~~~

russet, brown, orange

chase each other on the grass

autumn windfall

~~~

The latticed window

(100-word flash fiction)

THE LATTICED WINDOW

She stood on the road and looked up at the latticed window, seeing it for the first time from the outside, thinking how beautiful it looked.

She had found herself on the inside one bleak, moonless night, a child bride at 13, an elderly man’s fifth wife. 16 years of hell had followed.

She had been imprisoned in the house, not been allowed to step outside, not even when her father died.

That’s when she had decided to escape. The others were fellow prisoners, all married to the jail-keeper. He had to go.

All it had taken was a pillow.

~~~

100-word flash fiction for Friday Fictioneers at Rochelle’s .  Written for the image prompt below -

Begonia - softly lit

(100-word flash fiction)

No

As she walks over the wooden bridge, the planks creak. It seems they are trying to say something, but she puts that thought aside, as she recalls the time, when as a child she had dived into the deep end of the pool. It had been so beautiful underwater, so quiet. She could have stayed there forever. But they had pulled her out, made her breathe again.

This time she hopes no one finds her. That she can stay underwater forever, having to breathe no more. When she realises with a start, the planks are saying, “no, no, no ….”

~~~

Friday Fictioneers prompt by Rochelle. Write a 100-word flash fiction piece based on a photo.

 

Photo copyright - Adam Ickes

I am a wild woman

by MELISSA CLARY

I am a wild woman
I know, inspite of myself
and in spite of what I've been told
that there's beauty in every age
no matter how old

I am a wild woman
I've learned what it means to be a life bearer
to bear children
to create art
to plant seeds of love

I am a wild woman
from the depths of the dirt underneath my fingernails
to the height of my very soul
I am one with the Earth
the winds from the four directions whisper through my skin

I am a wild woman
and the spirit of every wild woman coalesces in me
for we are each wild women
and we are all the spirit of the wild woman
I will follow the voice in my heart

I am a wild woman
I sing from my heart
I dance with the stars
I howl at the moon
I love uncontrollably

I am a wild woman
from the deepest, darkest, most sacred part of me
I am fearless
I cry in strength
I open my arms to the sky and welcome the rain

I am a wild woman
I nurture, love and protect
I stand, strongly, silently, sweetly for my brothers
I walk dutifully, prayerfully, joyfully upon the mother
and I will not be stopped

I am a wild woman.

 
~~~

Every Day We Are Dancers

by MITCH ROBERSON

It begins with the lewd macarena
each of us performs in the shower,
then the modified twist we are hip to
with that ever-absorbent partner, the towel,

and on to the funky chicken of stepping into underwear,
the shimmy of stretching into hose.
There is no music, none that anyone
can hear, yet no one can escape the boogie.

Outside beneath the disco ball of the Sun
no one is a wallflower, not even the two lugs
in the crosswalk lugging a huge mirror,
one at either end pressing his cheek

into the cheek of his own reflection, arm
extended, hand clasping his own hand in a tango
more about control than passion, one couple
leading himself forward, the other slide-stepping

backwards across the intersection made double
by the infinite burden they shoulder together.
At the entrances of buildings even those afflicted
with two left feet find grace with a stranger

~~~