109 Words Plus A Sentence: Ghosts Of Dachau

Once again, I am “mashing” my response to Master Class 2014 with the Friday Fictioneers prompt, and I do this for two reasons primarily.

Firstly, it permits me to somewhat “jump” the 100 word requirement for the latter. And secondly, it allows me to once again recommend that most of you should really try your hand at the former.

As always, I hope you enjoy, experience.

Copyright – Sandra Crook

I observed the shit-stained haystack once more.

Had its movement been caused by the mere trundling of the cart, or were itchy passengers buried within?

As I wondered, I pondered… what are we doing? Why are we doing this?

I’d killed before. But he, a soldier, was armed with the same professional bloodlust as I. I would never forget, as out of breath, he dropped both arms to his side, still gripping the knife in his left hand, while his brain slowly acknowledged my round, that had just torn through it.

Yes, I’d killed before. But this was different. These, mere civilians.

Children.

Children deemed unfit due merely to their heritage, their identity, their God.

Our God.

My Gott…!

I closely observed the haystack once more, before waving on the shit-stained skittish driver with his dubious cargo, whispering to no one as they pensively passed, “Gott Sie segnen…”

•••

It’s no great secret that I plug-in a song at the end of every post, and it’s also no great secret that I never really push it upon you. But just this once, please, listen…

.

Asleep

Admittedly, I do seem to be on somewhat of a depressive story line arch lately with these Trifectca Writing Challenges. I promise it’s not nearly as bad as it may seem.

Now, with the prompt being the 5 words that follow the 33, here’s this week’s effort…

The pain ebbs, a fat cat dozing after She’s realized her fill.

Breath seeps.

Light pales.

Wait…

It’s over?

“Ah, but wasn’t it you who said you wanted to Sleep?”

Maybe…

Yes.

But,

That wasn’t what I meant.

•••

Smart Patrol to Mr. DNA

Guest-authoring over at Raised On The Radio, I get to pay homage to one of my early year heroes while also being able to bust on my little brother.

Pretty sweet, that.

This is NOT a President’s Day Post

In fact, it’s not really a post at all actually, but rather, a recent facebook status update I made. One that I feel should be thrown into a larger web of the social media. One that, with a singular simple addition of a word (and more than a whole slew of singular edits), I feel will work pretty danged well for this week’s Trifecta Writing Challenge:

FUNK (noun)  3 :  SLUMP  <an economic funk>  <the team went into a funk>

While struggling to swallow my latest fit of depression tonight at work, I met a mom who had really nice kids, and pretty sweet tats. As these things transpire, in conversation I found out that each tattoo represented one of the children. As she explained each in turn, I learned that the child whom I thought the most mature (a birthday boy JUST turned twelve who simply HAD to have Minecraft merch to celebrate properly), was born with autism. But it was his sister who stole my heart and gave me hope, in that at no more than 10 years old, she knew that she was transgender – a knowledge held since six years of age according to the mom. To date, she is the youngest transgender person I believe I have ever met.

While mom shared with me that her daughter was treated very poorly by her classmates and the school, the girl that stood before me was still a happy, well-adjusted kid. One who knew and was comfortable with whom she was, and (from my vantage point) well-loved by her family. Including her baby brother, whom she could not carry correctly, even had he come with instructions sewn in. Seeing them all (four kids and one mom with pretty sweet tats) woke me up out of my self-imposed pity-party over my current (and hopefully temporary) funk, to the idea that there are still a LOT of really good people out there. People who love without condition. People who would rather build each other up, then tear each other down. People who can, willingly I would assume, love something much bigger than only themselves.

I’m glad that that mom, her kids, and her sweet tats came in tonight. I’m glad to know that they exist out there. This world is five people better off as a result.

•••

Admittedly, the song chosen today has absolutely not one singular thing to do with the post, but honestly, how many challenges come along that provide you with the *perfect* cue to end with this gem?

Chokehold

Copyright – Janet Webb

She look better now?

What?

You had a few drinks. Does she look better now?

I suppose… maybe a touch?

So, she might be your type?

Maybe? But listen, I’m not really in the…

Oh yeah you are. They ALL are.

Are what?

“In tha market.”

Honestly, I’m really quite…

Happy? Yeah, they all think that too. But that’s only cuz you haven’t met “The One” yet.

I really don’t think that I need…

Oh yeah, you do. You ALL do.

Say… what’s your game anyway? Are you some sort of devil or something?

Devil? I’m no devil chump. I’m freakin’ Cupid.

•••

Combining the cocktail with the woman seen “through it,” I decided to have just a bit of fun with this week’s Friday Fictioneer prompt, in honor of what is possibly the most non-sensical holiday we have as a species. I hope you enjoyed!