Haiku / Senryu, Poetry by Sarah

Patchwork Quilt



caught in a whirlwind
frenzied and falling to earth
Autumn’s patchwork quilt


By Sarah ©2017



Prompt: Sunday Photo Fiction – September 24th, 2017; and also, TJ’s Household Haiku, earth and whirlwind

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Scribblings by Sarah, Stories by Sarah

Flood Zone


They’d been warned the house was in a flood zone when they’d purchased the property. The couple weren’t bothered though – the house was on stilts that kept it at least 10 metres off the ground.

They peered out the windows, hearts sinking as the water level continued to rise. The Beareau of Meterology predicted this would be the worst flood in 100 years. The couple had taken precautions – sealing the windows and doors with waterproof tape. But they knew that it wouldn’t be a matter of a few leaks; more likely engulfment of the entire home.

The flood’s peak was still six hours away. The husband and wife deliberated what to do. Evacuation was no longer an option, as the emergency services had told them yesterday.

“I’ve got the dinghy, maybe we can get out with that?” the man said.

She didn’t need to be asked twice. “I’ll pack a bag with some of our valuables.”

They launched the dinghy out the front door. Counting their blessings, the couple paddled for safety.

As they neared the banks they could feel the waves of a large marine vehicle coming up swiftly behind them. To their surprise, they were overtaken by their now floating house…

By Sarah ©2017

Prompt: Daily Post Daily Prompt, launch; Sunday Photo Fiction, September 10th, 2017;

Stories by Sarah

The Shortcut


Image credit Dawn Miller

She couldn’t believe it! Such bad luck breaking down in the middle of nowhere. She should have stuck to the main road; not risked the shortcut. She slammed her door and kicked a tyre, releasing frustration. She checked her cell phone, knowing it would be pointless. No signal.

Great! Just great! she thought.

She could either wait it out until the next car came along, or walk to the nearest house and get some help. Weighing up her options, she began trudging along the dirt road. Thankfully, she didn’t need to walk too long before she saw a letterbox. She memorised the address and began walking up the driveway.

The grass grew long and she mentally chastised the owners. Didn’t they know it was a fire hazard? She drew closer to the house, and something began to nag in the back of her mind. It seemed so familiar here.

She rounded the corner, took in the front door, and noticed, standing to the side, three cups resting on posts. One that was too big, one that was too small, and one that was just right.

She realised she had been here before; many years ago.

Goldilocks turned and ran…

By Sarah ©2017

Prompt: Sunday Photo Fiction, August 27th 2017; Daily Post Daily Prompt: memorise 

Scribblings by Sarah, Stories by Sarah

Worlds Apart


The others went to bed while he took the night shift, keeping an eye on things. The silence emphasised that he was all alone.

He checked the computer. Everything seemed in order, so he let his mind wander. Glancing at the clock he noted it was 10:30pm. He wondered what she was doing right now. Was she indulging in her nightly beauty regime, getting ready for bed? Or perhaps she was watching her favourite show on Netflix, snuggled on the couch with their dogs? Probably the latter of the two, he decided. After all, it was the weekend and she didn’t need to get up early. 

His heart went cold, as he considered a third option. Maybe she was with someone else? He tried to dismiss the thought. You’re being paranoid, he told himself. He lifted out the photo he kept in his wallet and let his eyes run over her familiar features. He ached to hold her; tell her how much he loved her; how much he missed her. He let his finger draw the curve of her smile, and as he looked out the small panel window of the space station towards the blue-green sphere below, he wished for the thousandth time, that they weren’t worlds apart…

By Sarah ©2017

Prompt: Sunday Photo Fiction, August 20th 2017

Scribblings by Sarah, Stories by Sarah

Mayday

The ghost tour had been uneventful so far, and I felt somewhat disgruntled at having paid extra for the EMF meter and infrared goggles. We had been into the women’s ward, the men’s ward (affectionaly known as the ‘bullpit’) and the laundry – with no activity at all.

As the tour guide opened the door to the new building, she announced dramatically, “This is Olivene where we held the worst of the worst; the criminally insane.”

I stepped inside the courtyard. Rooms that more resembled cells, formed an ‘L’ around the central space, with an ‘L’ the other way, consisting of open bathrooms and a dining area. Even in broad daylight, this place would give you chills.

The guide continued but I had zoned out, her voice static in the background. My eye was drawn to one of the doorways. I shuddered and stepped closer, despite every instinct telling me to run. My EMF meter started to light up. Rooted to the ground, my shaking hands lifted the infrared goggles. As I peered through them, a solid shadow of a man filled the cell. I whirled around, bumping into the shelving next to me. And that’s when I saw the head…

By Sarah ©2017

Author’s Note: My response to the prompt is based on a real experience I had (except for the head part!). I was on an investigative ghost tour at the old Mayday Hills Lunatic Asylum in Beechworth, Victoria and saw through the infrared goggles, a man where there was none. Believe it or not. If you are ever in the area, it is a VERY interesting place with an awful and fascinating history. Find out more about the history and tours by clicking on the appropriate word for the link.

Prompt: Sunday Photo Fiction – July 30th 2017, 200 word limit; Daily Post Daily Prompt: continue

Scribblings by Sarah, Stories by Sarah

Heart Of Stone


Word count: 200

The queen was lost in thought as she looked at the stone sculpture of the little girl. She seemed so real, so lifelike. It was eerie to behold. She pondered the situation, looking again at the statue before turning to face him.

The dragon pleaded with her, not to end his life. Beeseeching her mercy. Eyes downward she considered his request and sadly shook her head. Though only a baby he possessed great powers and had been unable to control them. The consequences had been devastating. Kneeling down and taking his clawed feet gently in her hands, she promised to make it quick and painless.
The dragon looked up at her and knew she would keep her word. He flattened his wings against his body and waited without fear. She held up a mirror, stroking his head so that when he looked up and met his own eyes, he was instantly turned to stone. 

Tears slipped down the queen’s cheeks as she moved him next to the others. A gallery of stone statues, once family and friends, stretched down the hallway – joined now by the beloved pet who put them there. 

Only she remained, with her heart of stone.

Prompt: Sunday Photo Fiction – July 2nd 2017