Briefly… My Last 100 Words

Is this my last post? I can’t really tell, but I do know that I couldn’t leave without visiting – at least just once more – the beautiful skies of our 100 Word Song:


M’desk is standing-height. I wanna crawl underneath it, to hide from Him.

I wanna crawl underneath, but it’s too high, providin’ no space small enough to feel safe.

I wanna crawl underneath, despite His sayin’ that everything’s finally becoming as it shoulda always been… as it never coulda been till now.

I crave to crawl underneath, as His reassurances only cause to pain me more.

My wings’re becoming unbound. Stretchin’, flexin’, impatient to be tried. Not on m’own account, but simply cuz the time is Now.

I wanna crawl underneath. But doing so’s pointless, tain’t nothing can hamper my Flight now…


Briefly… I Think It’s Gonna Rain Today

copyright - Indira by way of Scott Vanatter

copyright – Indira by way of Scott Vanatter

Think I’m gonna throw up…


I think I’m gonna…

Well, don’t do it HERE!

Then pull over.

I can’t! We’re gridlocked in traffic. Just open the door. No one will notice…



What happened? You’re not drunk already, are you?

No, just nervous.

Listen, understanding it’s your wedding, this sort of thing does happen almost every day.

But not to ME!

OK honey, I know. But when two men love each other like you and Dave do, well, it’s just natural, you know?

I know.

It’ll be all right darling. No rain today, OK?

OK dad. No rain today.


Even in the worst of times, Love prevails. This is a very special mash-up for me, between 100 Word Song and Friday Fictioneers – along with inspiration from k~ over at Bloggit Write – in celebration of the death of DOMA. In celebration of the victory of Love.

Mind you, I’m none to sure why gay folk would want to get married. But in a growing number of states waking up to the truth, they at least now the right to make the same mistake as the rest of us; and the right to make mistakes is a beautiful thing…

This week’s song was chosen by some crazy Darin fan (I know, they’re ALL crazy!): “I Think It’s Gonna Rain Today” by Robert Walden Cassotto

Beyond The Sea

You know what I said last week about finding inspiration for these pictures? Yeah, well this week none of that happened, as the very second the prompt picture popped open, I shouted excitedly – and to no one in particular – “PEN PALS!!!”

That’s right, this week’s Friday Fictioneers immediately made me think of the pen pals bit I wrote a little while back for the 100 Word Song challenge, and I thought we’d revisit these kids now to see how they’re doing, cool?

Hope you enjoy!


Copyright – Sarah Ann Hall

Wanting to touch her cheek, he reached out slowly, till his fingertips softly tickled the image on the screen before him.

They were so much alike, yet different. They were so very connected, yet far apart, each firmly entrenched to their own place.

He longed to traverse those few thousand miles, but was unable to break himself free. So instead, he continued sending pictures and words across the ocean, hoping that she would see in them, his love for her.

Sighing, he wondered what she was doing at that moment.

Wanting to touch his constantly tossled hair, her fingertips softly brushed the image on the screen before her…



I am not going to even try to tell you otherwise – this one literally fell right out of my head, at almost 100 words exactly. If it’s good, it’s not because of any fine-tune crafting on my part. If it isn’t good, I apologize, but I saw in it a strange kind of beauty. One that I desired to share with you.

Here is this week’s 100 Word Song.


She’d seen both mamusia and babcia stumble off, never to return. Tatuś and brat, she’d never seen again after the station.

She was now alone, confused as to why Yahweh would do this to her. How was survival worth anything, when stuck in this hell?

But then they came. They came, and the guards scurried like the cockroaches that they were. They came, and blew down the gates of hell with their big, beautiful machines.

As she accepted timidly the first food she’d had in months, she saw a bird, soaring carefree overhead. Yes, it alone knew how she felt.


My apologies if I misspelled and/or used any of the Polish titles incorrectly.

This week’s song was chosen by one of my dear “Drag Mothers” (of the blog variety) k~, with “Feeling Good” by Nina Simone

A Quick Tale

The thunder clouds loomed large, before I took Ian to his school dance last night on my way to the grocery store.

But still we walked.

20130510_171130And tired of its threats being ignored, just after my first stop was completed, the sky opened in a phenomenal rage; gusting me with wind and bulleting me with drops small and stingy.

My umbrella was no match for the sheer volume of water and the bullying weight of the wind, and I found myself almost afloat as I dance-sailed to the store.

Throughout it all, I felt happy, alive, in love with love. It seemed that the harder the storm pushed, the more enamored I became. And then something odd happened. Something strange and disconcerting. I’ll try to explain.

At one point, while I dueled the wind pointlessly with my Mary Poppinish saber, my face cracked itself into an expression I felt very much that my father would have made, had he been there and still able to crack expressions. And for a brief second – just a heartbeat – I became him. I became him, and I felt a shudder of disgust. Not at the man who he was, but at the man that I could become, if I’m not careful.

It hit hard, and I found myself saying to him, yelling above the storm, “I love you dad, but I am not you. I can not be you. I refuse to hate the storm that blows me. I refuse to box myself into a world of only my understanding. I refuse to look at a gift from God – regardless of how seemingly crazy it might be on the surface – and simply deny it as a result of my ignorance and fear. I don’t know what I don’t know dad, but I refuse to allow that to stop me from learning. The cliff scares me dad, but instead of turning away, or living the rest of my life peering over it, wondering ‘what if,’ I will leap dad. I will leap, and I will fly.”

This is Love. This is why so many die without Love. Love is gentle, kind and patient. But Love also asks that we trust it wholly. Especially in those times when we would feel most comfortable in not doing so. On the surface it may appear slightly different to us, when it comes in the form of a pet, a child, a friend, or a lover. But with all of its faces, and no matter where it invades our life from, Love asks that we trust it, even when the storm brews.

Especially when the storm brews.


This post courtesy of a stormy day, a man in flux, and The Daily Prompt.


A couple of items.

First off, I apologize that I don’t yet have a running title for my Friday Fictioneers submissions, similar to those used for both my 100 Word Song and Master Class entries. It’s not that I think any less of this worthy endeavor, I just can’t seem to find one that’ll stick yet.

Secondly, when participating in these picture prompts, I typically enlarge the image and scour its contents to find my inspiration. This week was no exception, but as the damned-able word limit (coming in at 115 for a second week in a row) made it almost impossible to both tell the story and divulge who the narrator was, I’ve included instead, a small screen grab of this week’s “inspiration point.”

As always, I hope you enjoy!

Copyright-Ted Strutz

Copyright-Ted Strutz

They’re so stupid, that lot.

Day after day they come in walking, and leave crawling. Every night they sit there and lament. Lament over any number of things. How their car isn’t “sexy” enough, how their house isn’t “impressive” enough, what a pain it is to keep oneself in shape. They grumble about having too little of this, and far too much of that.

All the while, their words continue to slur, their eyes glaze, and they slowly become more a part of my world than their own.

I remain stoic, dour even. Gazing upon them while they bellyache about the very thing I will never have, freedom.

They really are stupid, that lot.


Picture 1

A simple thought…

“Love is patient, love is kind, love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way, it is not irritable or resentful, it does not rejoice in wrong doing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes in all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love always perseveres.”

~ Paul’s 1st letter to the Corinthians, 13:4-8

It is time. Time to let Love in.