A tiring day.
The Amber Eyes keeps whining.
To rest, is foreign.
Bloggy
April Writing Prompt: “The Last Piano Note” (Closed)
You’re at a burial, dressed in shoes you didn’t have time to polish or lace up correctly. It’s a grey sort of day, overcast with rain coming soon. They’re lowering the casket into the ground and all you can do is stare at the stubborn knot in your shoelaces.
Someone lights up a cigarette after the service is over and you move away to avoid the smoke. Your heels slip into the soft ground and you get mud on the hemline of your clothes. You stop to catch your breath after a long day and close your eyes. You smell rain in the air.
There’s a piano you can hear in the nearby chapel playing a soft tune. You think they’re playing “Amazing Grace” and then it changes. A sudden thought strikes you: “I must get back into the car before the last note. Once the last note plays, it’ll start raining.”
You’re heading back to the car when you see a man standing at the fence. He’s dressed in overhauls and a flannel shirt, looking directly at you. You glance away but are drawn back by the man’s intense stare. He’s holding something in his hand. A letter? A book? You can’t tell. You feel you must find out, before the last piano note…
Take it from here. You don’t need to be Hemingway or Dickinson to participate. Just write. The few rules are below.
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Indie Author: When You Want To Kill Someone (humor)
To quote John Pinette, sometimes I lose my cherub like demeanor. Whether it’s in parking garages, the daily commute or someone being a me-monster, my clock of patience winds down with humanity more quickly these days. The hour hand suddenly jams and can’t move. Soon the second hand gets stuck and the minute hand ticks solitarily in place. I start to twitch while calculating coffin sizes in my mind.
Why, you think to yourself, are humans so selfish? I checked out a few theology books* at the library the other day, as we INTJ Christians do, to review the apologetics. One of the books answers tough questions about life, like why evil exists and why paper cuts happen. The Archangel Gabriel tapped me on the shoulder while I was checking out. I saw he had some comic books in his hands: X-Men Archangel of all things. He was frank with me, as usual: “Try dealing with your kind for thousands of years, kid. Some of us angels are difficult, too, but that’s a whole other story. By the way, can you autograph my copy of Memory Bound? Make it out to “Gabby the Angel”. Michael will keep his paws off it that way…”
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A.R. Clayton 