Free Verse, Poetry by Sarah

Crumble

The foundations are shaky.
And things are getting crazy.
My knees feel quaky.
When did reality get so hazy?

What was once up, is now down.
What were once smiles
Now be only but frowns
These times…they are so vile.

It’s hard to keep the faith,
Find any meaning in it all,
When you feel you may break
While you’re trying to stand tall.

And in the face of adversity
There’s two ways, to be sure.
Either way, it’s never pretty –
We can crumble, or conquer!

By Sarah ©2018
Sammi Scribbles, Weekend Writing Prompt, #63 – Crumble

Challenges by Sarah, Mindlovemisery's Menagerie - Saturday Mix

Saturday Mix – Same Same But Different, 14 July 2018

#SSBD

Mindlovemisery's Menagerie

Welcome to the Saturday Mix, 14 July 2018!

This week we are diving into the depths of our thesaurus and exploring the world of synonyms.

Same Same But Different
Your ‘Same Same But Different’ task is to take the five challenge words and NOT use them in your writing. That’s right, you need to dig out your thesaurus and find a synonym for each word instead.

Your words this week are:

  1. check
  2. dress
  3. hand
  4. snake
  5. drop

Your writing form is either poetry or prose.

Synonym Searching
Synonyms are words that are similar, or have a related meaning, to another word. They can be lifesavers when you want to avoid repeating the same word or if your word might not be the most appropriate. You can search for synonyms online at: http://www.thesaurus.com/

You may be asking yourself, What are some examples of synonyms?
Luckily, the nice folks at YourDictionary have some…

View original post 136 more words

Stories by Sarah

Good Neighbour

What miscreant has been here? I wondered, inspecting the damage to the fence.

I was not at all, properly attired, and looked about, seeing if there was anyone who could assist.

Nope. It was just me.

I considered my freshly polished shoes, crisply starched white pants, and my lace detailed silk shirt, and huffed.

I did not need this today, not one bit, I cursed.

Part of me was tempted, to just walk by, pretend I had never seen it. But I couldn’t abandon my responsibilities.

As they say, “Good fences make good neighbours.”

So I got to work.

 

By Sarah ©2018

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Photo Challenge #221; Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Saturday Mix – Same Same But Different, 14 July 2018, Synonyms for check, dress, hand, snake, drop highlighted in bold; and also, Carrot Ranch, July 12: Flash Fiction Challenge, July 12, 2018, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about a broken fence. You can mend it, leave it, or explain its place in a story. Go where the prompt leads.

Stories by Sarah

Empty

Who invited him? Shelby wondered.

She watched him surreptitiously, as she closed the liquor cabinet.

She took a quick gulp of the burning whiskey, and just for a minute the clock seemed to stop.

She took in his tall, hulking frame, electric blue eyes, and shock of black hair. He ruffled a hand distractedly through it, before somehow, he sensed her, looking at him.

She quickly looked away but not before a hot blush stole across her face. With disgust, she felt her pure lust for him; imagining herself lying under him, her own golden hair crowned upon the pillow.

Shelby swore softly under her breath as she realised he was now walking her way.

She turned and rushed out of the lounge, into the food store, hoping she could hide from him, in the kitchen. She wasn’t ready for this, all the turbulent emotions he was evoking in her. It was too soon.

From her concealment in the cupboard, she watched him survey the apparently empty room. He went to the sink, peeked out the window and across the lawn as though expecting to see her running through the grass.

Shelby realised she was holding her breath and silently, she prayed he would leave – look for her no more. Then she wouldn’t have to reveal herself to him.

She stayed strong in her resolve, even when she saw the single tear rolling down his cheek. It was nothing compared to the thousands she’d shed for him. If he wanted her back again, he had truly missed the boat this time.

Finally, he turned and left her in the darkness, and the party went on around them.

She slid down the wall, and reached for a packet of crisps.

By Sarah ©2018

The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 359 and Time to Write: Sentence Starter 36

Scribblings by Sarah

Zephyr

The saying “Change is in the air” is paradoxical really. One can’t see the air around us. Does this mean we can’t see change when it comes our way? We see the effects of the wind; but never the wind itself. Does it even really exist?

Sometimes the best change, is that of which we are unaware. It moves around us slowly, morphing and shaping things to the will of the universe. If you believe in that sort of thing. Which I do.

And so, I hope things will change. Like a zephyr, I move on. It’s time to move on.

By Sarah ©2018

Sammi Scribbles, Weekend Writing Prompt, #62 – Zephyr

Stories by Sarah

Bobbie Jo

Bobbie Jo wouldn’t know class if it crawled into her knockoff Prada and went home with her. 

Mandy shook her perfectly poised platinum bob and made a “tsk” sound. She would have to speak to someone about the lax staff, letting someone of that caliber into the country club. Anyone who lacks such decorum should hardly be allowed past the front door step!

I mean, really! she thought, haughtily. What next?

She turned, picked up her real Prada and stormed elegantly out of the venue. After all, she had a plane to catch.

————————

She arrived at the airport, and directed her driver to the private hangars. She was looking forward to travelling on her own jet, and not having to deal with the nuisance of other passengers.

I mean, really! she thought, haughtily, When one had a financial position such as she, why not?

She primly collected her overnight bag and business suit, resting on its hanger in a sleek protective bag, and handed them to the steward.

Her stiletto heels clinked on the metal steps as she climbed into the small, but perfectly formed Learjet.

She clipped her seatbelt loosely around her hips, sighed contentedly and leaned back in her seat. Mandy pressed the service button. She deserved a champagne.

The steward brought her a delicate glass of Moët and Chandon. She took a sip and analysed the fine little bubbles, softly popping as they reached the top of the chilled glass. She realised the steward was still standing there.

I mean, really! she thought haughtily. Wanting a tip already?

“Uh, ma’am?” the steward began, nervously. “Um..well..”

“Yes?” she probed, becoming irritated.

“Well, ma’am, I just need to let you know, there’s been a slight change in the plans for our flight.”

Mandy sat straight up in her seat.

“What? What change?” she snapped. She could not be late for this meeting!

The steward continued, “Our regular pilot, Captain Blake, has fallen ill, so I’ve been advised to let you know, there will be a replacement filling in for him.”

“Oh, fine. No problem,” Mandy said, relieved. Why was this idiot even bothering her with such details? she wondered. I mean, really! She didn’t need to know such trivial matters.

“Anyway, Captain Beaumont just wanted me to let you know,” the steward continued, before wandering off down the aisle.

Beaumont? Captain Beaumont? Mandy thought hard. Why was that name so familiar?

As the pieces fell into place, Mandy was horrified as Captain Bobbie Jo Beaumont, entered the cabin, waggling her fingers at her, and giving her a knowing grin…

By Sarah ©2018

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, First Line Friday: July 6th, 2018 and Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Saturday Mix – Double Take, 7 July 2018. Words: hangar/hanger and lax/lacks

Stories by Sarah

Full

I placed my knife and fork together gently on the plate, and wiped my mouth with the fine linen napkin. I leant back in the chair and sighed a deep, contented breath.

As I exhaled, I felt uncomfortable pressure – my pants, digging into my rotund belly. I furtively glanced around the restaurant, sure that no one was watching, reached down and popped open the top button.

Out of nowhere, I heard a voice.

“Everything ok ma’am?” a waitress asked, as she cleared my empty plate. She looked pointedly at my stomach.

“Oh, yes,” I laughed, embarrassed, “Just full!”

By Sarah ©2018

Carrot Ranch, July 5: Flash Fiction Challenge

July 5, 2018, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that includes buttons. You can use the word plural or singular in different expressions, or focus on how buttons relate to a story. Go where the prompt leads.

Haibun, Poetry by Sarah

Silence

It’s whirling again, my mind. I can’t help it, it just is. “I hear you!” I scream. “All right!” I agree. “Shut up!” I plead. And yet it goes on, and on. I feel it, deeply, the withdrawal…as I sink into the dark recesses of my thoughts. They’re unruly now; untamed, and relishing in the freedom I have allowed them. The more I say “No”, the more they say “Yes, let’s tell her again”. Their truths are untruths. I know it and yet I don’t. I bend to the sounds of the unkind and unfair. Unrelenting and unwieldy these thoughts bear down on me. An incessant chatter when all I want is silence. Oh please let there be silence.

Hush now, time for rest.
When Summer seems far away
Look for the sunshine.

By Sarah ©2018

img_3748-1
Image credit Pixabay

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Heeding Haiku With Chèvrefeuille, August 4th 2018 – Silence

Stories by Sarah

The Flower

It was the same sketch every time.

A stem.

Two leaves.

Scribbly petals.

All culminating to form a rudimentary flower.

For as long as I could remember, this was the “bored” doodle that I defaulted to.

I briefly wondered why.

I sighed a barely contained, deep exhalation, attempting to communicate the need for a break.

Why was it, that teacher professional development, all about the importance of engagement and best practice, used the exact opposite to inform its audience?

I looked up, hopeful, as the presenter paused.

Disappointingly, she promptly launched into the next diatribe.

Time for another flower…

By Sarah ©2018

Carrot Ranch, June 28: Flash Fiction Challenge

June 28, 2018, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that is a sketch or about a sketch. It can be “A Sketch of a Romance” or “The Sketch of Aunt Tillie.” Go where the prompt leads you to scribble.

Stories by Sarah

Quarantine

I wandered the grounds of the old quarantine station, searching for the series of engravings.

They were etched all the way along the escarpment, adjacent to the jetty. I’d heard these carvings were made by people staying at the quarantine station, and dated from the early nineteenth century.

I traced my fingers along the rough edges and tried to imagine, who, or what, had brought them here…

By Sarah ©2018

Find out more about the old Sydney Quarantine Station here.

Sammi Scribbles, Weekend Writing Prompt, # 61 – Quarantine