The Priests

Posted: November 18, 2017 in Uncategorized

Today, Pegman took us to San José el Huayate, Chiapas, Mexico.

“Come,” they said.
“Offer your soul to God,” they said.
Words: Let Him protect and guide you. He alone offers peace.
More: Poverty will be annihilated. Evil banished. Your people will thrive beneath His benevolent gaze.
Still more: Crops will multiply, tenfold. Village children will flourish, grow tall and strong and smart.

When we did all that was asked, the truth swallowed us whole.
In spite of an exact amount of rain and sun, crops died.
Their coffers grew as ours diminished.
Some of our children perished before they were born.
The rest wished they had.

Too late, we asked, “Who is this benevolent God, this Christ?”
Too late, we realized His priests were greedy and war-like.
For they raped our women, stole our food and molested our children.
Erected churches over our cornfields and sacred grounds.

No more! Today we take back our lives inside howling winds and swirling knives.

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Since one cannot kill or disappoint a character every week, today I’m submitting a wee bit of humor. When I first looked at the picture with sleepy eyes, the name of the building read Bloomingobles. Thanks, Rochelle, for posting a fun picture and to Marie Gail for submitting it.

“Momma?”
“Yes, Ezra?”
“What is Bloomingobles?”
Oh, Lord, what is he on about now? “Bloomingobles?” And why do I have such an odd child?
Ezra pointed toward a building halfway down the block. “There! That store!”
“Bloomingdales, lovie, not gobles.”
“Well, when I have my store it won’t be named something no one can pronounce.”
Such big dreams. Pie in the sky. Why can’t my Ezra want to hunt and fish like the other little boys?”
Twenty years later David Abercrombie and Ezra Fitch opened the doors of their first hunting goods store.

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Crossed Letters

Posted: November 4, 2017 in Uncategorized

I think I cheated this week….(I didn’t complete this thought and Lynn and K.Lawsen questioned why I thought my story was cheating. So ~ Yesterday was a busy day filled with politics in our community. I thought it was cheating because I didn’t stick to the city of Córdoba.)

My Dearest Samuel,
If only you were here. You and I would sit before the fire, me telling you the happy news that we are expecting a child, you smiling. Upon your return, we shall make no more plans for your explorations. Instead, we will enjoy our lives here, in your ancestral home listening to the giggles and shouts of our children chasing one another amongst the roses.

All my love and more, Louise

My Sweet Louise,
All has gone awry. I’ve not climbed a single rock face. Aconcagua works against us. The clothing we chose is unfit; our party is freezing to death. The porters fled three days ago. We have no food. Rock slides occur daily. Sadly, a boulder killed our dear Thomas. You and I may never see one another again Think of me when you walk in the rose garden.

I will love you forever, Samu
el

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Anna’s Escape

Posted: November 1, 2017 in Friday Fictioneers
Tags: , ,

Photo Prompt Sarah Ann Hall

How Sasha loved his women, lined up before him nervously waiting to be led to the ball like splendid mares from a stable.
He alone had chosen their gowns, for he knew what was best for each.
Cerulean-blue for green-eyed Tatiana, moss-green for blonde-haired Marie.
But where was his prize? His Anna? His pride?
Inside a flurry of robes; with a curse and a promise, Sasha burst into her rooms.
A quarter of a mile away, barefooted Anna, dressed in a simple grey shift and rough woolen cape, heard the shot that killed her guard.

(100-words)

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Lottery

Posted: October 28, 2017 in What Pegman Saw
Tags: , , , , , , ,

Today Pegman took us to Norfolk Island. An interesting place full of intriguing history.

Just last eve Aengus, Mich, Enda and me drew lottery straws. Mich drew the shortest. Me and Enda the long. That left Aengus the murdering lad. Mich the lad to die. We other two will witness all and be more than glad to tell.

If you’re nay here on Norfolk Island where Satan rules with a floggin whip and the fields be strewn with blood, you’ll think we friends have turned our backs against the lads we love.

But if you knew we four and the place we are from
you’d recognize the bond we share
through Father Maguire who preaches suicide as sin

But now we’re left to fixin things the very best we can

Mich’ll be freed by Aengus’s blade. Aengus freed by the rope. With any luck Enda and me will escape this wretched island of death with truths to tell back home.

The ‘Lottery’ explained by an entry in an Irishman’s Diary
The extent of the horror experienced on Norfolk Island between 1824 to 1847 led to what was known as “the Norfolk lottery.” Irish convicts feared that suicide, being an unforgivable sin, would send them to eternal hell.To get around the dilemma they devised a plan where four convicts drew straws: one would be murdered, one would be the murderer and two would act as witnesses at the trial to ensure a conviction.The victim would escape life without fear of going to hell, the murderer would be executed, escape a miserable life and the fear of going to hell, and the witnesses would testify at a trial in either Sydney or Hobart. Just getting off the island was a holiday for them and would possibly present an opportunity to escape.

Yep, it’s Wednesday-Friday again. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields we have a beautiful picture (provided by Roger Bultot) to stir our imaginations.

Photo by Roger Bultot

I’d like to live the remainder of my life in the rose glow of candlelight.
Somewhere within the shadows bordering darkness and expectation
where the world is neither full of wild desire nor deep disappointment.

There, my children would softly hum accompanied by a choir of crickets
and the thrum of one-hundred bullfrogs.
And fireflies would spark in the midnight air.

Instead, I’m trapped in the bright neon glow of fluorescent bulbs,
held in place by blue plastic tubes twisting like snakes around me,
listening to the thump-thumb of an oxygen pump
while my children softly cry.


Wednesday-Friday has rolled back around. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields we have another picture to weave a 100-word story around.

capture7.jpg

At some point, everyone delivered a wish.

The believers arrived regular, bearing all kinds of gifts.
Patty: Appeared every Sunday totin flowers, til “Baby” was born too early.
Wall-eyed Lester: Brought colored rocks. Hopein for a girlfriend. I tried. I did!
Ain’t seen neither of em for a while.

The scoffers turned round after some twist of fate or nother.
Lindsey-June: Stage 4 cancer. Didn’t even try.
Jim-Bob: 57 Chevy caught fire on bridge #7. No fixin that!
Clairene: Not nobody can patch a dog flattened by a truck.

Today, everyone delivers one wish.
Wall-eyed Lester revs his chainsaw.

I make a wish.
No one tries.