Sunday Mornings

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Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “yawn.” Write about the first thing that comes to mind when you think of the word “yawn,” when you sit down to write your post. Enjoy!

Sunday Mornings

Yawn. Yawn, stretch, yawn. Slap cheezits out of alarm clock when it revives from it’s snooze. Sit up on the edge of the bed, stretch waaaaay up high, yawn. Think about pulling covers over head, yawn. Sniff, sniff, ummmmmm, coffee brewing. Cast off covers and shuffle into the kitchen. Perfectly brewed cup of morning magic is thrust into my eager hands. I lift the cup to my face and inhale deeply, ahhhhh. Java, nectar of the gods. I take that first sip and feel the warmth begin to thaw my sleep frozen brain. The second sip starts the heart pumping, within a few minutes I’m ready to hit the yoga mat. Standing in tadasana, I stretch up, up, up and … yawn.

 

Til next time ~Peace ~JPP

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The Wind in his Face

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The Wind in his Face

“Walk, boy? Wanna go walk?” the human gushed.

Frank the Pug growled “Why in the seven suns of Satornia would I have wings if I wanted to walk!” What his human heard was “bark, bark, grrrrrr, BARK!”

Frank looked around for some means of escape, to feel the wind in his face. Ah, the window was open just a crack. With a leaping twist, he freed himself of the human and bounded for the window, wings flaring behind him. “FREEDOM!” He cried. His head went through, but his wings stuck firmly behind the window frame. “Crap and kibbles” growled Frank.

Word count 100

For Friday Fictioneers, do pop over and give a read to some great flash fiction.

Til next time ~Peace ~JPP

Where the Spirit Fire Flowers Bloom

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A bit of Flash Fiction for Kira’s Sunday Scribbles do check out these great picture prompts!

Where the Spirit Fire Flowers Bloom

The battle was over, vast and bloody it had been. The Gremlekins were part of the clean up patrol. They wandered through the horrible remains of the battlefield with the wives and mothers seeking lost sons and husbands. Small, gentle creatures, they could always be counted on to give the unclaimed dead what comfort could be found in a simple cleansing and burial. Continue reading “Where the Spirit Fire Flowers Bloom”

Candy Hearts – a twittering tale

Twittering Tale for a twittery holiday

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Candy Hearts

She read the card on the box of candy hearts.

“St. Valentine was a Christian martyr who was beheaded after being beaten and stoned. I find it appropriate that the patron saint of lovers is a man so intimately acquainted with pain. Time 2 dance.”

How had he found her again?

Character count 271

Til next time ~Peace ~JPP

The Statue

For Fifty Word Thursday this week is over at Tales from the mind of Kristian

here are the words: From the moment we saw him most of us lived in dread of him

Here is the photo:

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The Statue

He was tall and lean with the ropy strength of tendon, muscle and bone, his hands calloused from years of genuine, hard, work. He demanded nothing of his employees that he did not demand of himself. He was a hard man, but a fair man. Yet from the moment we saw him, most of us lived in dread of him. Perhaps it was his ice blue eyes that could see straight through any lie. Or the piercing pain and sorrow that lay hidden beneath those icy depths even when his face held a smile. But I think it was the statue at his office that we dreaded most. The woman astride a wave, friend to bird and fish and all things of the sea. She held a construction pylon in one hand, a constant, silent reminder of the tragic traffic accident that had taken his wife all those years ago.

Word count 150

Til next time ~Peace ~JPP

Tell the story challenge – Summer’s Tribute

Thanks to Kristian for the tag. Kristian tagged me a few days ago as well but I wasn’t able to respond to that challenge right away due to time constraints. I’ve combined them here.  Double thanks for not giving up on me. 😉

tellthestory # 11Tell the story challenge # 11

tellthestory 2.12.19Tell the Story challenge 2.12.19

Summer’s Tribute

The ground wasn’t red any more. All the stains of violence were gone. The Summer Queen noticed that first. Then she saw the efforts humans had put into restoring the peace and beauty to the land, but the scars of magical violence lingered still. Not visible to the human eye, her fairy senses could still feel the monstrous betrayal of Winter’s Frost Giants. They had burned that fair land with magic blue frost and in it’s wake left dying trees to fall and crush the helpless. The humans thought it a tragic accident, a freak winter storm,  Summer’s Queen knew better. Continue reading “Tell the story challenge – Summer’s Tribute”