#Writephoto: Tomb

The Tomb

KL posted a fantastic picture for this week’s prompt! https://new2writing.wordpress.com/2021/10/07/writephoto-tomb/

Rising slowly
above the mist
the corpse will come
he has a list
of those to visit
of those to haunt
like your uncle Paul
and then your aunt
and then he’ll go
and find you shaking
to see what kinds
of trouble you’re making
he’ll laugh and grin
and you will scream
like the ghosts of hell
in a real bad dream.

©2021 CBialczak Poetry

#WRITEPHOTO – Emerging

To participate find it here

emerging-image-by-geoff-le-pard-1.jpg (750×1000)
https://new2writing.files.wordpress.com/2021/09/emerging-image-by-geoff-le-pard-1.jpg

High above the dusty ground
he came alive
without a sound.
He came to life
to hurt the one
to whom his soul did
wait upon.
The bricks and mortar
were no gate
to keep this raging
lover’s hate
For he had loved
but now he’s dead
Coming for some blood
to shed.

©2021 CBialczak Poetry

Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge #135

Fandango hosts this challenge: https://fivedotoh.com/2021/09/13/fandangos-flash-fiction-challenge-135/

writerscentre.com

As he stood before the doors he pondered his options. There were more doors than usual and given his last trip  through he wanted to make sure he chose the right one this time. His mind went back  to the last door…

I remember opening the green door. I chose green on that particular day because the trees were full of new grown leaves, the grass was freshly cut giving it a greenish glow, and the world around me seemed alive. I didn’t know at that time that green wasn’t the door for living and thriving, it was the door for rotting and spoiled, for mold upon the top of the leftovers from last week. But I had gone not knowing this. I had gone thinking of positive things and life and love. I thank God I had that positive energy, otherwise I could have been stuck there forever.

When I opened the green door last time I was greeted with an odor, an indistinct odor that I couldn’t place right away.  I  let the door close softly behind me as I looked down the path  that was waiting for me.  It was a long path and there wasn’t much around it, not like the blue door, not like the purple door either. But it was the door I chose so I would move forward. 

As I walked along I could hear the soft mewing of a cat wanting to be fed and I could hear the sucking sound of a baby nursing a bottle full of warm milk. Those were pleasant sounds, I had nothing to worry about. But as I rounded the corner, unable to see more than a few steps ahead of me, I noticed the figure, the woman in a dark green cloak, her back to me. 

She was a petite woman, much shorter than I. She was facing a counter, a sort of kitchen counter, where bottles were lined up ready for filling. As I walked closer I could hear her crying, softly sobbing, and wondered why. I didn’t want to startle the woman so I cleared my throat to alert her of my presence. She lifted her head slightly but did not turn around. Instead she continued to cry softly. 

When I  finally  reached the woman I could smell the sourness of milk, the rotting smell of old food, and then strangely mixed in, the soft smell of baby powder, tenderly spread upon a clean babys’  bottom. I wanted to turn away in disgust but instead I stepped closer, looking over her shoulder. It was there that I saw  where the smell was coming from…

The woman was holding a large carafe. In it was a large green growth, closely resembling lichen on an old dead tree. Below the carafe, in the sink she stood against, were more baby bottles, all filled with a green liquid. 

“I can’t feed my  baby this poison, this filth, but I have nothing else and he is almost done with my milk.” 

That must have been the suckling sound I had heard.

“My  baby will die here if I cannot feed him.”

“Why is the milk so spoiled?” I  asked.

“Because I can’t find any fresh milk and this is all  I have”, she replied.

Taking the carafe from her hand I tried pouring out  the milk from below the mossy growth.  The milk poured slowly, but with a pure white color, a miracle considering the top of the bowl. 

“Here is the fresh milk”, I said.

The woman turned to me, her crying had subsided. What I saw was horror. This woman, this mother, she was a monster! The flesh on her face was as hard and green as the moss on a mountain stone. Her teeth were black and her lips were cracked with dry blood. 

I turned and ran as fast as I could, pounding my feet on the path, not wanting to look back, not knowing if she was following me or not. As I came closer to the green door I felt some peace and my fear turned to sadness. I came to a stop at the opening and heard a soft song being sung. It was her. She was singing a sweet song to her baby, telling the baby he would always be okay. The singing continued, softly, gently. I breathed a sigh of relief. I would be able to get out of this horrible place but I also knew I had saved that little life. I don’t know what happened before I got there and I surely didn’t want to know what would happen once I left but I knew I had done the right thing.

Reaching for the knob he hesitated. Why  was he picking this orange door? What did orange make him think  of? What horror would orange be connected to? He took this moment to think, think hard about his uncertainty. Orange was a pumpkin in fall, waiting to be carved and lit by a candle. Orange was fresh fruit and vegetables on a summer morning. He couldn’t think  of anything that could go wrong with this door. He guessed he  would have to take his chances. 

He grabbed the knob and turned it, slowly  pushing the door open.

©2021 CBialczak Fiction

Fandango’s Flashback Friday

Check it out here: https://fivedotoh.com/2021/09/03/fandangos-flashback-friday-september-3rd/

Here is a poem from last year, same day…
To me it was heartwarming seeing that it was for Sue’s prompt…I know a lot of people miss her.

https://christinebialczak.com/2020/09/03/thursday-photo-prompt-serenity-writephoto/

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is twilight.jpg

Written for Sue’s prompt: https://scvincent.com/2020/09/03/thursday-photo-prompt-serenity-writephoto/

Morning

Blue skies illuminated 

Clouds covering the sun 

Morning begins early 

Quiet land waits peacefully 

A new day begins 

©2020 CBialczak Poetry

3 Line Tales

Click here

The teacher looked around her room wondering where the rest of the desks were; there had always been twice as many desks, hadn’t there? Maybe someday the desks could be put back and the students could pile into her room like they used to. She sat and thought, if this is the way it would be forever shouldn’t she just start getting used to it?

#writephoto — Bandstand

Band Stand

You could hear the squeal of laughter as the children ran round and round the bandstand. In a few hours the grass surrounding the bandstand would be filled with checkered blankets laid out with wine and cheese. Despite the antsy behavior of the children a couple sat drinking in their own quiet solitude of the morning. The air was warm and the sun, hidden behind a thin layer of clouds, peaked through every few minutes as the wind moved them along the sky.

Time in the grass
waiting for the show
warmed by the sun
but shaded from the glow
children playing sprightly
while parents bide their time
Soon the music started
an evening so sublime

Check the prompt here

©2021 CBialczak Poetry