Poetry, Short Prose and Walking

Stanley presented his theory of causality explaining how point A met point B in a new dimension where infinitely many things occurred. He drew illustrations to make his point. Around point A there were lines and circles which he called causes. He decorated point B with more lines and circles and called all of that the effect happening like the popping of a bubble.

Then Stanley looked at me for encouragement.

I wondered what would be the easiest way to tell him without embarrassing myself or frustrating him that I had no clue what he was talking about.

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Denise offers the prompt word “bubble” to be used in this week’s Six Sentence Stories.

While walking through the neighborhood overcast by a blur of rainclouds Charles passed a young girl urging her two brothers half her size to keep up with her.

One said, “It’s gonna rain,” but she answered, “No.” Then the other said, “It’s gonna rain,” and she repeated, “No.”

Charles also thought it was going to rain. He hadn’t brought an umbrella, but after hearing the girl’s words he slowed the pace of his walking convinced in spite of the clouds that it wouldn’t rain.

Whether to fulfill a child’s prophecy or to give Charles something to think about it in fact did not rain, at least not until both he and those three children reached the shelter of their homes.

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Denise offers the prompt word “blur” for this week’s Six Sentence Stories.

Red bougainvillea made a splash against a white wall as Tom wondered where he was.

When his mind wandered he’d sometimes get lost in imagined disasters he could do nothing about. Fortunately, although they seemed determined to mess with him to the extent they still could, he had enough sense to reject dark demonic misdirection.

Then Tom saw Phyllis wave to him in the distance. He hadn’t seen her in a decade, not since the funeral. Her smile and the joyful brilliance of the bougainvillea told him his journey was finally over and a new, better one had just begun.

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Denise offers the prompt word “mess” to be used in this week’s Six Sentence Stories.

A paste of sparkling, sticky snow clings to the leafless trees. The sky is cloudy blue and cold. My eyes look on all these.

This all reflects the mystery that we are here to see.

That’s when the prophet stopped to praise with thankfulness and we. Well, we as well began to praise with thanks for all we see.

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Denise offers the prompt word “paste” to be used in this week’s Six Sentence Stories. Reformatting this into verses, I posted it on Poet’s Corner.