Perception #Tanka Tuesday

Pixabay image by Michael Seibt

Perception

“Cross the bridge.” The crone points her staff to a log spanning a luminous pool.

I squint at the strange collection of creatures impeding my way. I’ve been lost for days in the swamp’s wet greenness, breathing the emerald dew. So many moons that knobby horns sprout from my skull. Vines weave through the fibers of my clothes, and my skin grows iridescent scales in myriad hues of moss. I am hungry despite a bellyful of beetles.

Upon the bridge, a naiad plays her flute, the sound hypnotic though the melody unfurls backward. “Wayward magic,” mutter I, one wary soul who’s encountered these tricksters before. Does this one revel in opposites, mirrored reflections? Which is real, the opposite of whom? Is there any way to know what’s true? My ears droop at the bothersome riddle.

The pipe’s dulcet sound charms a viper, its crescent fangs smiling. Safeguarding or warning? Did the sprite awaken the snake, or does she lull it to sleep? Beneficent or Mischievous? I wrinkle my snout in study. And which of the two covet the poppy? All three could be lethal to me. Beautiful peril, perilous beauty. Or simply a flower?

“How am I to cross?” ask I, my jade whiskers twitching.

The faceless hag shrugs.

choose your poison, child
life implies no guarantees
forsake illusive
dreams of immortality
perception decides the truth

**

I had the privilege in September of choosing October’s mid-month photo image for Colleen’s #Tanka Tuesday. What fun to finally write for this fairytale image. If you enjoy syllabic poetry, visit her site and check out her fun prompts. Thanks, Colleen.

Sunwielder: Coming Soon to Audible

enwikipediaorg

image from en.wikipedia.org

“I don’t think I can die, Estriilde,” Gryff said, his first words since the peak of the bridge.

“You’ve pickled your head in wine,” Estriilde replied. They hurried toward her tent, so close to being free of the wind.

“It’s not the wine. It’s the sunwield. I don’t believe it will let me die.”

“We all die, Farmer.” Her cloak opened as wide as wings, and she flew ahead. He plodded behind her, entering the dark tent as she fumbled to light her brazier. Sparks flinted to life, and the fire began its fight to banish the cold. He sank onto a stool as Estriilde sat back on her heels and studied him. “Every one of us dies in our time.”

He drew on the cord around his neck. The medallion rose from inside his shirt and hung exposed on his chest. She shuffled forward on her knees, close to him, and caught the bronze disk in her hand, silently counting.

“You have seventeen left.” Her gaze rose to meet his eyes. “That time may pass in moons or years. Every one of us side-steps death without a glimmer of awareness. We are a moment early or late before the arrow flies; we decide not to swim, to travel a lesser road. We aren’t hungry the day the food spoils; we leave the house before the roof collapses. We decide to ride the wild stallion the morning the placid gelding breaks a leg.”    -Sunwielder

***

I wrote Sunwielder eight years ago, and since then “sunwielder moments” have become a mainstay of my household vocabulary.

Sunwielder moments aren’t always those instances when a decision prevents unknowable catastrophe. How many times would each of us have died if not for the minute choices that led us down alternative paths? It’s a question without a reply.

Side-stepping unknowable death stirs a sense of destiny. Yet, for my husband and I, sunwielder moments tend to rise from our reflection on the choices that were pivotal in steering our lives. Each road traveled required another passed by. What if he or I had turned the other way?

There are thousands of them, long strings of seemingly inconsequential forks in the road that brought us to where we are now. Alter one, only one, and the dominoes would have cascaded down completely different paths. Even the wrong turns, the miserable things that happened in our pasts, contributed to where we are now.

If you think about it, the billions of choices made by your collective ancestors led to YOU. If a prehistoric youngster hadn’t chosen to clean the scratch on his arm, you might not exist.

Sunwielder moments extend beyond our individual lives as our power of choice impacts the lives of others. We may be the catalyst that unwittingly saves a life, transforms a future, or reaps despair. Even if ultimate outcomes rest on thousands of choices and influences, why not choose the path of kindness. You never know where that road will lead.

In Sunwielder, Estriilde focuses on the present — the past unchangeable and future unknowable. Easier said than done. As humans, we tend to spend much of our lives peering over our shoulders and inventing the scenery ahead. Randy and I are no exceptions to the rule.

Yet, as we grow, our sunwielder moments reside more frequently in our present. They appear on the cusp of choices, as we attempt to peek into the future and catch glimpses of how each decision may sway the trajectory of our lives and the lives of those we come in contact with. We attempt to live with more awareness of the gift and power of choice. For we, unlike Gryff and his sunwield, can’t journey back in time and travel the path unchosen.

Do you contemplate the sunwielder moments of your past? Do you choose with an eye on the trajectory of your future?

 

Tranquil Cove #Writephoto

photo by Sue Vincent

The beach parking lot was jammed with cars. Outside their blue rental, Samantha stretched her stiff limbs while Jeff rummaged in the back seat for snacks and towels. A tow truck clanked its chains and ground its gears in the midst of hauling away one of several abandoned vehicles, the windshields dusted with a week’s worth of windblown sand.

According to the glossy pamphlet, the rocky headlands and clustered islands sheltered turquoise waves, and the soft sand welcomed blankets and picnics. All inviting. But after days of battling crowds of tourists, the feature that most appealed to Sam was the promised solitude. Unfortunately, Tranquil Cove didn’t look like it would live up to its reputation.

She sighed and read the sign pounded into the sand at the lot’s edge. Someone had hand-scrawled a sloppy “g” on the otherwise formal warning.   “Beware of the grocks. No swimming.” She glanced at her new husband. “What are grocks?”

Jeff smirked and started up the dunes through the quivering beachgrass. “Come on.”

She climbed after him, willing to make the best of it, her toes sinking into the path’s velvet sand. The sound of a gigantic belch reached her ears, and she groaned at the prospect of a mob of drunken rugby players. But when they crested the dunes, an empty beach lay before them. “I can’t believe no one is here.”

“Someone was. Look at all the blankets and towels.”

“And footprints. Where is everyone?”

“Probably exploring the grocks.” He chuckled and headed across the sand to a sweet spot out of the breeze.

Sam helped him spread out their towels. They chowed on granola bars and shared a beer. The beach remained delightfully theirs, and as the sun peeked through the midday clouds, she napped in the rising heat.

Jeff nudged her awake. “Let’s go for a swim. I need to cool off.”

“The sign said ‘no swimming?’”

“Because of dangerous grocks.” He pulled her to her feet. “The sea’s calm, and I can see the bottom. Not a grock in sight.”

She gave in without argument. The water was refreshing, and other than a few rounded rocks, the bottom descended in a gentle slant. She wiped water from her eyes and drifted toward him, pulling herself along the shallow bottom with her hands. He sat on one of the submerged rocks near the shore, staring down at the water.

“What are you looking at?” she asked.

He leaned over for a kiss and then resumed his study. “There are bubbles coming from under this rock. What would cause that?”

She sat next to him. Sure enough, tiny air bubbles leaked up around their hard seat. “I have no idea. Some kind of mollusk?”

~

Eric and Penny unloaded their car in the packed parking lot as a tow truck hauled away a sand-strewn blue rental car. A huge belch split the air and Penny laughed. “You didn’t tell me your brother was here.”

“Ha ha ha.” Eric rolled his eyes. “This place isn’t supposed to be crowded.”

Penny glanced up from reading a sign. “Hey, what’s a grock?”

***

Update:

I’m still on hiatus, but figured I’d post something. And what better than a little story based on Sue Vincent’s Thursday #Writephoto prompt?

I’ll be visiting the blogosphere more often and should be back into a routine by mid-August. I miss you! But I’ve been reading between all the busyness, and that’s been wonderfully relaxing.

My parents are doing a little better after 8 months of health issues. Unfortunately, in a couple of weeks, I have to move them a second time. Their new housing will be more suited to their needs, and we’re all eager to get this last change in place.

Happy Blogging!

May Speculative Fiction Round-Up

Pixabay image by Brigitte Werner

Another month of great stories! Thank you to everyone who participated. And to those who stretched their imaginations, congratulations. Below is the round-up of all the May poems, flashes, short stories, and some artwork too! If I missed yours for some reason, please add a link in the comments and I’ll happily reblog. I invite everyone to enjoy some unique stories and meet some wonderful writers.

**

May Round-up

Pensivity – The Awakening

Cosistories – Different

The Dark Netizen – The Future Man

Steve Tanham – A Strong Right Arm

Thea by Me – Being Another You

(Note that Thea has a series of posts continuing the story. You can catch the links from the first one above.)

Trent McDonald – A Whir in my Ears

Robert Goldstein – Trina and the Android at Saks

Balroop Singh – In Love with Myself

Dorinda Duclos – Human Extraction

Robbie Cheadle – Extract from the diary of John Saunders

Sadje – The Tattoo Man

Jomz Ojeda – Reborn

Anita Dawes – Difference

Greg – Heartless Tin Man

Miriam Hurdle – One Hundred Million Dollar Man

C.E. Pereira – What I thought was perfection

Barbara – Frozen

Ritu Bathaul – Mechanical Tart

Len – Body-sculpture

Brad – Cyber Man

Helene Vaillant – Draft Model

Ethan Dale Edgar – Hunger (Part 2)

GM Cleary – Millefeuille

Geoff Le Pard – The Unfortunate Outcome of Gender Neutrality in Algorithm Design

Teagan Geneviene – Hidebound Hum Day: The Guardian

Sally Cronin – The Enhancement Project

Daisy Bala – In the Future

Hugh Roberts – Hot Dates (adult content)

Von Smith – Jules meets Hal (Chapter 1-10)

Jessica Bakkers – Homo Cerebrum

Jen Goldie – Metaman104

Betul Erbasi – The Robot in me

HRR Gorman – The Bone Forge

Sonia – Watch Shield

Deepa Kadavakat – Is This The Future?

Wilnako – A Changeling King

C.E. Pereira – Awake, Bronze Gladiator

Anneberly Andrews – Figment

Amanda Reilly – Empty Promises

Kerfe – are we not what we are

Jane Dougherty – Creation

Joanne – Cyborg Your Future!

Pamela Wight – The Bodyguard

D. Wallace Peach – Defining Human

Entangled Designs – The War Within

Happy Reading!

 

 

 

May Speculative Fiction #Writingprompt

Pixabay image by Brigitte Werner

For visually challenged writers, this is an image of a man who is part human and part machine. Behind him are gears and wires as well as a hint of fire or electricity.

Yay! It’s that time again, finally. Thank you to everyone who responded to March’s prompt (we skipped April due to my travels). Now, we’re heading in a new direction once again!

Above is May’s image. If interested, you have until May 23rd to submit a response. Happy Writing!

Note: WP seems to be sketchy with pingbacks lately. Please take a moment to add your link to the comments below. Then I’ll be sure to get it. Thanks!

Here’s how it works:

On the first of every month, I’ll post a speculative fiction prompt from Pixabay. These images are attribution free so you can use them on your blog without worrying about copyright restrictions.

Throughout the month, in order of receipt, I’ll reblog as many of your prompt-inspired creations as I can. And on the last day of each month, I’ll share a complete round-up of ALL contributions with links to the original posts. Visiting the blogs of participants is a great way to meet other speculative fiction writers.

Post your response on your own blog and link back to this original post (not to WP Reader) with a pingback, so I can reblog your post as well as include you in the month-end round-up. If you’re unsure of how to create a pingback, Hugh has an excellent tutorial here. If you prefer, you can copy and paste your link into the comments of this post.

There are no word limits or style restrictions, but please keep it somewhat family friendly.

Above all, have fun.

March Speculative Fiction Round-Up

pixabay image by Natan Vance

Wow! What a month of great stories! Thank you to everyone who participated. And to those who stretched their imaginations, Congratulations. ❤ Below is the round-up of all the March poems, flashes, short stories, and some artwork too! If I missed yours for some reason, please add a link in the comments and I’ll happily reblog. I invite everyone to enjoy some unique stories and meet some wonderful writers. As I posted a week ago, I’m on a mission to move my parents and all that entails. Therefore, I won’t have an April prompt for you. Stay tuned for May!

March Round-up

Solitaire – Darkness

Pensivity – Moon Child

Alexander De – The Zoo Keepers

Frank Prem – take me (to the moon)

Robbie Cheadle – Gaining Freedom’s Gate

Amanda Sayer – Clair de Lune

Charley – Internal Irony (see part 2 below)

Tom – Shadowlands

cosistories – Jo’Am and the Eclipse

Jackie – A Survival Guide

Carol – Trapped in the Moon’s Shadow

Sonia – City of Sand

L.T. Garvin – The Shadow City

Priscilla Bettis – Passover

Len – The Savior

Christina Ward – Vacant

Robert Goldstein – Trina: In the Land of Tall Thin Shadows

Jordy Fasheh – Bones in Time – Part III

Jessica Bakkers – Darkness and Terror

Ethan Eagar – Hunger

Jane Dougherty – Black Moon

Betul Erbasi – The Light

Sheron McCartha – Escape Velocity

Carol Forrester – No Light By This Moon

Sadje – The moon glow

Paula Light – Postcards from Afar

Scherezade Ozwulo – Sacrificial Lambs

Trent McDonald – Release Me

Steve Tanham – Song in the Street

Geoff Le Pard – Sun Block

Ritu Bhathal – The Day the Moon Began to Disappear

Kevin Parish – The Solo Dancer

The Dark Netizen – Hole

Sally Cronin – A moment of Alignment

Mimi – She would give them all the words, feelings, and blood that they needed

Louise Gallagher – He Walks Alone

Willow Willers – Apocalypse

Dorinda Duclos – The Last Eclipse

G. M. Cleary – Crocus

Tessa – Where’s the sunshine?

Antonia Sara Zenkevitch – The Moon Child

Eric – Freed

Anita – Strange Dimensions

Anneberly Andrews – A Young Concord

Balroop Singh – A Rising

Audrey Driscoll – Answering the Call

Adele Marie Parks – The Night has a Thousand Eyes

Louise Brady – Desert Eclipse

Suzanne – Eclipsed

Violet Lentz – The New Nephilim

Greg – An Email from Saint Zillow

Reena Saxena – Challenged

Barbara – Glitch

Jess – Her Dream

Michael Fishman – The Hunter

JP – Noemei

Brad – A Strange New World

HRR Gorman – Rappaccini’s Moon

Ka Malana – Veil Removal time: the hidden reality

Kerfe – Beyond Lines and Measures

Dawn – The Chosen One

Thea – The Solar Eclipse

Chelsea Owens – Crescent Illusions

Karen Dowdall – The Dark Side of the Moon

Venky – Nephthy’s Children

Hugh Roberts – The Porthole

Lynn Kim – Night Runner

Ederren – Walking Along

Pam Wight – His Path

Kelvin Knight – The Shadow Symphony

Virinchi – He is the One – A matrix story

D. Wallace Peach – left me behind

A couple of bloggers wrote more than one story! I didn’t have time to reblog these, but you might take a peek.

Charley – Internal Fires (see part 1 above)

Brad – Once Upon a Blue Moon

And a couple stragglers:

Miriam Hurdle – The Cage

Maje Mallon – The Ride

 

 

 

Diana’s March poem: you left me behind

pixabay image from Natan Vance

you left me behind

by D. Wallace Peach

 

you left me behind

because I was born in the barrio

in a shack by flooded rivers

in the dusty winds of drought

didn’t speak your tongue

or worship your god

the one who bade you

love the children

 

I am the meek

you left behind

because I toiled in cane fields

watched the dawn ripple through fish nets

over dying turquoise waters

tended my father’s reindeer

on the tundra’s barren crust

I bear no papers to witness my learning

my worth in coins or accounts

my worth in belonging

as a human being

I am too young, too crooked, too old

too homeless, too hungry

the wrong color emblazoned across my face

the wrong size, gender, ethnicity

the wrong way to love

to be

 

you needed a stranger to blame

and I am left behind

one who might have cured the ill

housed the poor

fed the hungry

ended your wars

lit a planet

and saved

you

left me behind