Advert: A Cautionary Tale

A middle aged man with a bad comb-over of fading blond hair, dressed in khaki dress pants, a short-sleeve shirt and man sandals, rambles down a city street, bending to pick up dollar bills from the sidewalk right in front of him. He stuffs them in his pants pockets, front and back.

[Announcer: Dick spends his entire life chasing the all-mighty dollar]  Continue reading

Modrigal’s Gift

Vintage Unicorn

Source: Rawpixel LTD/Flickr

He wore many chains about his neck, mostly gold, some mixed and linked to polished stones, some of these gemstones.

The mirror in front of him showed their glint against his naked chest and graying hair, and though his eyes had been brilliant blue in his youth, they’d faded over the years, both of color and of the life force that supplied their vitality. Continue reading

Balance

Late night, long day, one after the other, until I’m sure I’m going to drop from lack of the basics to keep this aging body going; I’d grazed my way through too sweet and too salty snacks at the various exhibits, and gotten the bargain basement liquid refreshments that were typical to these professional conferences and their bleary evening parties, but what served me in my twenties is unsustainable for a woman in her sixties. Continue reading

Right? Right?!

 

Graffiti-covered tunnel, stairs curving upward into light

From Jenne Gray and C.E. Ayr’s photo prompt, The Unicorn Challenge (07/07/23). No more than 250 words in length. Otherwise, let your creative flag fly!

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Inspired by subterranean graffiti below the family’s old Victorian, he lived in the basement, coming up only to grab some food for himself, or cook a meal on the rare occasions when his parents were home. His sisters fled to school and beyond, and when his parents became housebound, the girls’ annual visits dwindled and ceased. An uncurious caretaker watched over his father, keeping him fed and bathed and toileted.

And Charles finally, mostly free. Continue reading

Wishing Well

Cardinal in flight thru snow

Source: Rob Swanson Photography

The woods were deep, the path mostly overgrown since the last time she’d padded, barefoot and shining, to find the well. Lost and despairing, Myrna lifted her eyes to the liquid warble and slash of fiery red high above. Continue reading

Where Has Summer Gone?

I look for her in the living room. The Pendleton blanket is folded and laid neatly on the back of the overstuffed couch (my sister’s choice). Mother’s hand-crocheted throw rests gently on the seat of our childhood rocking chair (my choice). Dust motes swirl in the half-light of this cloudy November afternoon, whispering rumors of light snow mirroring their desultory dance. It’s plenty cold outside those triple-pane windows.  Continue reading