Constant – Magpie Tales

Starry Night by alex ruiz

Starry Night by Alex Ruiz

 The man gazes up at the thin silver crescent suspended in the night sky. It is immovable, as if anchored by invisible threads that have been woven by the hands of the gods themselves.

He can see her, his love. She is waiting for him.

He is the Moonkeeper, yet without her, he would be lost. She has no idea that her home is also a moon that waxes and wanes at the whim of the universe.

It is better that she does not know. It is better that she remains unaware of her power and responsibility. Only he knows that her moon remains whole, remains illuminated as a constant. It is only the shadow that he casts from his moon that turns her light to shade, her shade to light.

He blows her a kiss, imagines it landing on her lips.

It will reach her. It always does.

——

Here’s my latest entry to Magpie Tales. It follows on from the theme of the piece I wrote for Five Sentence Fiction the other week – I love a moon! What a beautiful, magical inspiration of an image, don’t you think?

I hope you enjoy this week’s entry- and please do visit Magpie Tales for amazing poetry and prose!

 

magpie tales statue stamp 185

Advertisements

Time Flies – Five Sentence Fiction

waiting

Photo source

I can hear my Mum’s voice, clear and bell-like as if she is standing right next to me.

“A watched kettle never boils, Ellie!”

I shrug off the words, shoulders tight and tense, staring intently at the clock on the wall opposite – the second hand barely seems to be moving.

Time is elastic.

My patience, however, is not.

————–

Here is my latest entry into the lovely Lillie’s Five Sentence Fiction, where she has provided this gorgeous photo for us as this week’s inspiration. Please do visit here to read, read, read some more! No two pieces will be the same…

Echo – VisDare

03f6237d97f8a43adf7c3ed577a72b72

Photo source

Mirrors are for the young. I even avoid those streets flanked by high-end stores enshrined in vast sheets of plate glass. Who needs to have their insipid reflection hurled back at them so remorselessly? Who needs to feel like an impostor amongst the throngs of the young and the beautiful?

I was one of them once, you know. I had legs up to there, a cleavage to die for and such grace, like a swan. Oh yes, the boys all wanted me.

The trouble is, in my mind I am still ‘that girl’. I still have ebony curls kissing my shoulders, rosebud lips, alabaster skin and flashing green eyes. I am still devastating. My hips still undulate and I still walk as if the pencil skirt was invented for me.

We all have to grow old, darling, on the outside. Inside, well that’s an entirely different matter…

——

Here’s my latest entry to the lovely Angela’s VisDare.

I hope you enjoy this week’s entry- and please do visit VisDare for amazing poetry and prose!