The entrance from the street was locked long ago still George waited for the iron bars to rust away. Perhaps it would turn out as the dark spirits predicted, though everyone knew they were liars, that one day the whole doorway would collapse letting the riff-raff in, but now those crossed bars mirrored a knot of frustration in his throat he couldn’t swallow down.
George remembered how that very door swayed open allowing anyone ready to enter to do so. Unfortunately, that was when he didn’t have much oil in his lamp and his clothes were stained. When the door shut he knocked on it demanding management give him more time to get ready. That was when he got so, ever ever so, demonically annoyed upon hearing a strange voice say “I never knew you” that the iron bars had to be added for his own protection.
Brian’s cold was a regular part of his seasonal doldrums starting about November and lasting till Spring. The liturgy minister in the church he attended, knowing Brian’s talent with a guitar, wondered if he would like to join the Sunday worship band. Brian told him about his cold even though the cold didn’t stop him from doing anything he really wanted to do.
Without warning the minister put his hand on Brian’s shoulder and prayed out loud while everyone watched that Brian be healed. Embarrassed but courteous Brian accepted the prayer expecting nothing much from it. Three days later the cold was gone and it never returned.
Denise offers the word “band” to be used in this week’s Six Sentence Stories.
I am on vacation, but this story occurred to me and so I scheduled it for today without being able to participate in the link party.
Phil finished replacing the bathroom faucet, turned on the water supply valves and got off the floor to try it out all while listening to a commercial promoting his hometown as the best Little Babylon in the country.
There’s sin aplenty in Blislisnis! We have everything from soul scorching addictions to petty titillations – all at discount prices! Our trained experts will tease your mind with vain imaginations and pump your darkened heart into a foolish frenzy.
After turning the handles, Phil watched the water leak from the drain pipe. While cleaning up the mess and fixing the leak he told me that my story made no sense and he rarely, if ever – no – he never EVER went to those sin arcades in Blislisnis.
Trying to find something impressive to say the guide told the group he was leading through the cave that some of the mineral deposits they were looking at were as old as the most ancient graves directly above them in Blislisnis, but none of them were impressed.
He then asked them if they ever experienced darkness blacker than a demon’s heart before? Hearing only snorts of ridicule he waited till they were walking down a precarious set of metal stairs to turn off the lights without warning. Although the space in the cave collapsed abruptly onto their eyes the echoes of their screams convinced them it was still there.
When the guide let the light pop reality back into place with its ups and downs and rights and lefts, the group plotted in whispers to get even, should they ever get out, by filing complaints to the proper authorities of Blislisnis. The guide knew the stirrings of their hearts, but he also knew there weren’t enough live people left in the ghost town above them to care.