Inspiration Friday

Let’s see what else is happening this week… Colbert is running for president, SOPA draws nearer to the Senate, and education of the masses starts next week. I must warn you: the History books may not be kind to us and so we must chose our words carefully, my friends.

Enjoy these prompts, and leave some of your own in the comments.

-|—|-

It was no use to him practically but theoretically, yes. How it could jump between perceptions and boundaries he did not know or care. There was work to be done.

A requiem is meant to ferry the dead to safe harbors; so she sang. But the melody choked and seemed to become a lullaby. And who could sleep when the grave yards were being buried in work.

The old clock was tired of its job; its arms sagged, the ticks n’ tocks yawned, and the chiming of the hour was melancholy at best.

Heart, dawn, bloom

The newspaper-real honest to god paper- had to resort to extreme headlines to reclaim its audience.

This contract can be canceled in case of an act of god. See section 13, part B.

“Another gem,” she mused, “like the one given to Persephone from her husband to soothe her.”

From the beach I could see the whales, 3 of them, breeching on the hour, every hour. They had been doing it all day.

Copper burns green.

——–

Happy Friday everyone. Enjoy your weekend. Massive snowfall here, means sledding. See you on the slopes!

Remember, there’s also a contest going on.

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5 thoughts on “Inspiration Friday

    • I like making these up, I’m glad they’re being put to good use. Since I was out of town I got behind on reading your stories. I need to catch up on this weekend.

  1. You are welcome at The Latinum Vault at any time. Unlike most folks, the guards have instructions to NOT shoot you on sight if you pop in after normal business hours. Feel privileged if you wish. 🙂

  2. A Time For Requiem

    Teyana sat in the enormous ironwood chair and rocked
    slowly. The chair was the only keepsake, the only
    reminder she had of a childhood that had been all too
    brief and none too happy. It was tangible and solid and
    served to anchor her to sanity in a world that had gone
    slowly and inexorably insane.

    Her options and her outlook for the future were bleak.
    With every passing day, The Contagion spread. With every
    passing day, the piles of unremembered and unmourned
    corpses swelled in size. With every passing day, the
    world and everything within it became ever less and less
    likely to endure any longer.

    And so Teyana sat in the enormous ironwood chair and
    she rocked. She rocked and, with a thin voice devoid of
    emotion, she sang the requiem for the dead. There were
    none to hear it within the empty house and yet she
    sang.

    A requiem is meant to ferry the dead to safe harbors
    and so she
    sang. But, as she rocked and as she sang, the melody
    choked and seemed to become a lullaby. And this was, on
    many levels, both fitting and proper.

    It was, it seemed, the time for all of Humanity to lie
    down and sleep. It would be a sleep without end and from
    which none would arise. It was to be the eternal rest of
    the dead. To her fevered mind, it was not acceptable for
    the entirety of mankind to fade away without the
    comfort of a lullaby and so she sang.

    On a level more personal, she sang a final song for her
    Nathaniel. He had been her wee one, her lad. She knew
    that, during the night, the tiny spark of life she had
    emplaced within him not so very many years ago had
    sputtered and, finally, gone out.

    She knew that he was as lost to her as was his father,
    Helmont, and his sister, Trella. She knew she should
    carry his body to the courtyard so the Collectors could
    do their work. She knew this and yet she also knew that
    she could not do it yet. She would hold her boy a little
    longer and she would rock him.

    Eventually, when she could no longer deny the need, she
    rose and did what must be done.
    She returned to her empty home and sat again in the
    enormous ironwood chair and rocked.

    She was flushed and sweating despite the chill of the
    day. Her breathing was labored and her body ached. And
    so, at last, The Contagion had come for her. Soon she
    would join her beloved ones in their eternal sleep.

    She wept a single bitter tear, knowing there would be
    none to sing the requiem for her.

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