From my childhood, I recall a few images that remain vividly imprinted in my mind. Despite the years and experiences gone by and the desire to become a self-sufficient human person being grown up thing, these moments remain forever embedded in my memory.

Snoopy and Charlie Brown were talking on the TV upstairs. I ran at full speed. Snoopy and Charlie Brown were also talking on the TV downstairs.

I was driven by exploratory desire. The trunk door of my Mom’s Saab ’93 was heavier than I expected. Trunks are dark.

I yelled Bam! each time I threw a toy into my basket, all except for the last time, when I yelled DAMN! I turned to my mother who was nearby and apologized, but she only looked up and said “What for?” I mumbled “Nothing” and silently continued, contemplating if only I was aware of my own experiences in life.



Prompt Source:

Prompt 872

Simple or Brilliant?

As he turned, unsure of weather he had leave to go, he blurted out to the only one who could hear him.

“I am the undevoted man of the unseen, half a being, dipped in Chrome and part of the machine. Wisdom leaves a tarnish, but I like the way it mutes the sun. I’m the man of light and chief of all undone. You cannot stop my march as I bumble past your life. I am not solid enough to hold, but I can still cut you like a knife. I am master of the inbetweeness and I shout “balance” in my mirror, come away or stay with me, I cant tell if I want you nearer.”

He said and then left.

The wise woman would say about men like him:

“Tread carful when you see this creature mired in his swamp. He is a storm of high mind and base desire moving towards impossible dreams and unheard of wants. Truths and lies boil in the same bubbles and so rapid do they rise, not even he knows which are his troubles. Tread carful.”


It was like the spear points of God raining down on the hard slate shields of the roof. The clamor of battle drones on all around them and yet the space of warmth in the room and the crackling fire brought about a muffled comfort. 

AND in that room and in that muffled comfort those within talk. They sit by the warm fire and among the carved tables and the hanging clay cups above the bar, under the artwork and the crests of a thousand age heraldry, and the smoke and the drink. Within and among, All things are spoken of and the world set right. The drive that makes it turn and the pleasentries of facing challanges.

And the night goes on. The brambled speech and the endless drink and the endless smoke and the endless food churns about them, feeding their ideas.

And when the fire is low they laugh and cry their goodbyes and wear their wisdom like armor. And still the chill of the air makes them shiver. And the rain pierces them through.