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In response to Charli Mills @ Carrot Ranch’s prompt – December 19: Story Challenge in 99-words write a story about beauty beyond the grave.

Darkness settled around me, through me, lifting me from my pain-racked body. The agony slipped away like fine silk, releasing me from its vicious cocoon. I became the wind, floating even lighter than the air. I was the force behind the wind, pushing forward, gliding up and leisurely floating back down.

Beneath me a lake frozen hard by winter’s frigid breath. Lights twinkled all around the glistening surface, reflecting back into the black night, through me.

Skaters moved gracefully across the icy playground. Christmas Carols rang gently in the breeze with me, as I followed in the skaters wake.

Loneliness looking in from outside
painful
Loneliness excluded from within
excruciating
Loneliness without hope
debilitating
Loneliness darkens sunny days
dims the brightest lights

Extinguishes the faltering flame

In response to Di’s (pensitivity101) Three Things Challenge #M547 SLEEP, RESTLESS, TIRED

Sleep eludes me
Restless legs exhume me
Tired consumes me

In response to bwarren’s Sunday Whirl Wordle #633

Dazzling icy crystals cover a night sky
in the midst of a midwinter storm
Yearning eyes gaze toward the heavens
hanging heavy with distant stars

Struggling to unravel the mysterious
cast of characters and stories
A beacon to a world in slumber
within the realm of blackness

Home wrapped in the old down quilt
bittersweet memories assault me
The night grows longer and colder
try to remember I just want to go home

The beat of her heart is unmistakable
her sound completely
immutable

Yet those who are in the know
are now found to be wholly
unaccountable

Her streams once ran cold and clear
now reflect only the Mother’s tears
unforgivable

Although her heart grows weary
her core is strong and totally
unconquerable

Trespassers and destroyers beware
do not abandon and leave her broken
you are the ones

dispensable

In response to Rochelle’s 100 Word
Friday Fictioneers Photo Prompt 12/08/23

These family’s shoes all used and so well worn, except for little baby Björn’s. His tiny feet have no need for covering though, his knees could use a padding or two. Tell a story of life well lived, a home filled with love and care.

There’s shoes for lovely Rochelle, another bigger pair for our boy Keith. Beside that a newer set, must be those of Sadje and her side-kick, Di.

The biggest pair by the basket and caked with mud, are Bartholomew’s of course, he loves to trudge through cemeteries and canyons alike, searching for we haven’t a clue.

Anticipation like a flower grows
from long established fertile soil
worked well with hands so slow

With each rise of that golden sun
the frozen past melts away
a fresh new day has just begun

The promise of good health
received with each warm caress
of sun’s rays extravagant wealth

Waiting day by day and hour
by hour for the nourishment
of spring and summer showers

Facing the cold with steel reserve
roots gone deep to protect the core
alone and bound with leaves furled

A glimmer of hope when a warm day breaks winter’s cloying wrath
then night fades the glow away

Who would suspect
who would know
that a super-spy
traversed the snow

Stealthy and oh so sly was he
very long and extra lean
slipping and sliding on the ice
a weenie dog spy machine

Where he went
no human could travel
freezing cold and sheets of ice
through this and more did unravel

State secrets and secretive plots
men of worth and those without
None were safe from that spy guy
the spy of length with a long snout

Should you find yourself eye to eye
or in the path of that little guy
beware you of mean misdeeds
he’s the superest of all super spies

He only wanted a smoke, that’s all. Now he lay on top of the garden pebbles with two gun shots embedded in his body. Some long ago gardener had envisioned tiny, sharp rocks as being aesthetically pleasing, the perfect accoutrement to finish off his picture of a beautiful garden setting. The protruding pieces of garden debris poking into his ribs made the would be smoker edgy, forcing him to twitch uncomfortably.

The big tree with the huge over-hanging branches was rather pretty, he thought. He decided in that instant, he liked the sound of the big tree’s leaves softly brushing against each other in the slight breeze. Song-like he mused, then grimaced. What was wrong with him? These weren’t his thoughts.

He heard a lilting chuckle, turned his head and saw a robed figure hovering just above the ground.

“You are correct child, they are our thoughts. I am the true Messiah and it’s time to take you home.”

She stands and waits
toward the sea
toward the sea
Looking for her true love
across the sea
across the sea
Gone for so very long
on the sea
on the sea

The light keeps shining
out to sea
out to sea
Guiding him home
from the sea
from the sea
A beacon of longing
over the sea
over the sea

Toward the sea he treads
slave to her every wish
Across the sea he sails
her magnetism unfailing
Gone to sea for ages
time an unknown to her whims
Out to sea he remains
captured by her fury
From the sea her waves claim him
that distant light fading
Over the sea her love she follows
into the sea they both shall go