Rejected

(Note: this following image is the prompt for this story)

Krak des Chevaliers/Qalat al-Hosn, Syria. CC photo by Jon Martin.
Krak des Chevaliers/Qalat al-Hosn, Syria. CC photo by Jon Martin.

 

He had melted into the bed for an hour by now, surely. Actually, it could have been hours, thirty of them. Those decades had passed in a blink, would he know if the hours had played the same game?

 

The sun was a hazy ball on the horizon. He felt his gaping chasm acutely, head pounding from the ache where his heart had laid.

 

To pass time’s lack of essence, he listened to the refrigerator’s tinks. A whole colony of miniatures lived there. With top-hats, tails; frilly dresses and bonnets– holes cut for ears.

 

He heard the minis scurry up and down the railings, the stairs and the elaborate castles they build in the mound of cooling rejected pastry. They had made exquisite pillars of the champagne bottles.
He considered folding himself into a jerky square, hiding in the frozen room. He imagined delighting in their revelry almost as much as he hated himself in this eternal moment dragging on.

 

——————————–

This was written for this Flash! Friday fiction contest.

 

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Dark Skies: The Story and Song for the Weary Advocate

This story is not uncommon in the world of advocacy. Nor in the world of anything, where time passes and one works, works, works.

After expending, imparting to love and free others, it seemed their toil was in vain. Those they worked for were not really free. But neither were they- the freedom bringers. The burden they carried was just too immeasurable. And darkness waited, crouching for this hopeless moment. While alone, lifeless, and fading to just a shell from pouring into others, that is when it struck. Because, you see, they don’t always know when their life-saving canteens are empty until they are standing there, isolated in the forest, brokenly gazing at the unyielding sky.

But although the mountain they stand on is grandiose, and the night looms near, they aren’t truly alone. No. They cannot be. Because the wind still howls like a fire, battering and caressing, burning and beseeching.

 

Dark Skies

When hope fades

You carry these burdens away.

But you don’t. They’re still there.

I’m fighting alone like you’re not even here.

 

Am I by myself tonight?

Am I alone beneath dark skies?

 

The empty, it shivers,

My blanket pulled tight.

The wind howling deeply

Come forge me alive!

 

Am I by myself tonight?

Am I alone under dark skies?

 

Spirit, soothe me

With pure ancient love

Whisper sweet truth to

Douse this poison!

 

Am I by myself tonight?

Am I alone beneath dark skies?

 

Sing, breathe, heal this shadow of my ghost!

Burn through the bones making me forceful!

 

Consumed with the grief

That I’m failing outright,

Pointless I’m trying

To make myself light.

 

Am I by myself tonight?

Am I alone beneath dark skies?

 

Sing, breathe, flow into my empty shell!

Catch fire to whatever makes me whole!

 

 

Dark Skies Poem Excerpt by Elisa Johnston www.AverageAdvocate.com

 

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