Ode to the tree that stands high on the hill holding the moon in its branches. Ode to the clouds that float right by the tree holding the moon in the sky. Ode to the setting sun that sets in the west holding a bit of sunlight for the moon.
Layers of darkness Life moves slowly around us Sharing the sun’s light
As the storm clouds began to roll over the low range mountains, we could hear the silence and the smell of moss and fresh cut grass filled our nostrils and our minds, reminding us that this green comes when the clouds roll in.
Clouds roll on the land Covering the ground with life Fear was never here.
I did it every time I was there, it didn’t matter who I was with. I’d walk up six steps and put our names. Luckily, having the name Dave made it hard for my girlfriends to think that the other “Dave loves so-and-so” could have been me. Walking up the stairs with Veva I counted in my head. I never told any of them that I went to the sixth step and luckily, they never asked why I stopped there. I always tried to have a different color marker than the last time I was there just in case she noticed the same color and saw that it was the same handwriting. I was hoping this was the last time I had to come to this sixth step. I really loved Veva.
Welcome to “Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge.” Each week Fandango will be posting a photo he grabs off the internet and challenge bloggers to write a flash fiction piece or a poem inspired by the photo. There are no style or word limits.
The image below is from the Google Hub Photo Frame.
Looking up toward the apartment entrance, my stomach did a flip, then a flop. I felt as though I would throw up. I haven’t been here in almost twenty years, never really resolving the problems with dad like I had planned on doing. What if he slammed the door in my face? What if he told me to turn around and walk back down those stairs and never come back? I miss my parents; I am sorry for taking them for granted all those years.
I picked up my backpack and slung it on my back. Grabbing my suitcase, I started the climb up the stairs. I was only moments away from either having my parents back or leaving them forever.
Brad knew that his family was watching the news closely. They were like the other elderly folks who were stuck home, half quarantining, half trying to understand what was going on in this world. His mom saw every face that showed up on the news, he didn’t want to take any chances. He could only imagine the horror on his mom’s face if she saw him out demonstrating his rights. She would see it as an embarrassment. She didn’t understand how important it was to him, to treat people equally, to use your power the right way.
Brad and his friends were truly diverse. Not one of them was ethnically the same as another. This is what brought them together. They were determined to fight for equality for all people. But they wanted to do something different, something that wouldn’t hurt anyone, but something that would catch the attention of everyone, especially the news broadcasters.
Devon was the one who produced the idea. Take the typical smoke bombs and add the color powder. He could get it easily at his job, manufacturing colored powders and sprays for construction sites. Marcus could get the smoke bombs, having connections to some other pranksters. Derek was going to work with Brad on some sort of head covering to hide their identities. He had mentioned earlier that his little sister was in a school play with silly shape characters; they would use some of those ideas.
The plan worked perfectly. When the newspapers were printed it was Brad who made the headlines. After patting himself on the back and enjoying his stardom he noticed one setback that could never be taken back, his tattoos. His mom would identify that if she took a few minutes to notice. He was screwed!