Traces – Friday Fictioneers

Here is this week’s entry into the weekly challenge brought to us by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

Here are the rules: Use the photo as inspiration, write a hundred(ish) words – and share! Here goes my offering for this week – and I welcome your comments again!

– Traces –

They tear my beloved keyboard to pieces. I try not to mind.

Of course, my mind is taken off them levering it apart when they begin their search on and inside me, convinced that I’m carrying.

Then I remember you stroking the keys, your fingertips lingering on the black and white, finally whispering over my skin. Leaving… traces.

I’m a decoy. You sail through customs, do the switch, hail a taxi, free as a bird.

I’ll be with you soon, once they’ve finished their paperwork. And you’re buying me a new keyboard.

The best, of course.

Traces – Līgo Haibun Challenge

Ever in the market to try new things in the writing world, I have decided to dip my toe in the world of the haibun – a piece of prose followed by a haiku poem. The Līgo Haibun Challenge is hosted by Penny and Ye Pirate – why not take a trip to their blogs to find out more?

This week’s two alternative prompts are Ecstacy and Illusion. I have chosen Illusion, since this does rather reflect how life feels in my slice of this good earth. I hope you enjoy it.


– Traces –

The memory of you lingers, a breath suspended in the frozen air. You are ethereal, a wraith barely visible in the depths of my mind. I reach out, desperate to grasp hold of you. Like a fire it burns – the need to feel the skin of your hand, the smoothness of your fingernails, the rough patch where you rasped your knuckle on the garden gate. All of those details, the minutiae that passed me by, now they are what I search for, relentlessly.

I see you every day – a face in the crowd, a gesture, a tone of voice. I turn swiftly, yearning to catch in the corner of my eye the proof that you are still here. It was all a dream. I have woken, relief engulfing me, arousing me from the acres of sleep into which I have walked, unannounced and unwanted. But you are still gone. Remnants of you are mannerisms, cruelly reflected in my mirror, flat and unsympathetic. I don’t find comfort in the shadows of you.

your voice remains here

in my mind it echoes

joy embrace my lost heart.