Sunday 160 - Surrender

He slumped on the steps
of the church
holding his aching head
in his hands.
His skin so red
he nearly blended
with the chapel doors.
“God, help me,” he slurred.
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If you wish to take the challenge, here is a quick look at the rules.

For the original Sunday 160 post click here.
The Sunday 160 only uses 160 characters (including spaces).
Keep on schedule - post Sunday.
Let me know you have posted via a comment on my site.
Visit at least one other Sunday 160.
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Fishy 55

A scream flew across the water with dire emergency.

“He’s fallen in,” screeched a frantic voice.

“Help. Please.”

An empty inner tube

floats down the river

as many searched beneath the rushing surface.

“Found him,” yelled a rescuer.

On the shore

a teary mother’s eyes

gazed down

as a little voice said,

“I saw fishies.”
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This is a Flash Fiction Friday 55.
If you want to know what the hell that means visit g-man.
The challenge is on.
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Or if you want yet another challenge write a Sunday 160.
Like a text message, the Sunday 160 only uses 160 characters (including spaces)
Keep on schedule - post Sunday
Let me know you have posted via a comment on my site
Visit at least one other Sunday 160
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This is a true story. When I was about three years old, my mother and father took us kids to the Molalla River. While neither of them could swim, My father took me out on an inner tube in shallow water. He slipped on the algae covered rock and I fell into the rushing water. A family friend who was at the river with us found me in three feet of water and brought me to shore. To this day I remember what I saw while laying on the bottom of that river. Small trout fry, smooth river rock and sand. My mother told me that after coughing up the water I had swallowed, I excitedly told her that I saw fish under the water. I have heard of people who developed life long fears after an experience like this, but I love the water and feel very natural in it. I scuba dive and love to "look at the fishies".

Theme Thursday - Bicycle

The wind had blown the last of the flower petals away.

Sweepers and thieves had removed

the stuffed animals

along with the notes of love

and remembrance,

only leaving behind

the ghost bike

as a monument

to the fallen.

Share the Road.

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If you want to play, check out Theme Thursday.

A new theme suggestion is given every Sunday

and you post on Thursday.

If Headstones Could Talk

No love coursed through the veins of this house.
Life was hard and it was meant to stay that way.
She would see to it.
Work hard first.
Chop wood and carry water.
Do what you were told
and never veer from the assigned path.



It was difficult for him.
All he wanted was to dance.
To hold her until her heart
left that frigid place
in which it had become so comfortable.
He smiled and whistled
while he worked in the field,
but kept his head low in the home.
It was not his castle.
It was a prison of forced humility.

The last to go,
it was left to him
how the future
would remember them.
He stayed humble
while her eyes
would pierce the world
until nature’s immutable laws
turned the stone to sand.

160 Economic Stress

Fidgeting nervously
at the counter,
the woman waited
until the clerk was alone.
Pulling an object
from her purse,
she barked,
“I’ve never bought resale before.”

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If you wish to take the challenge, here is a quick look at the rules.

For the original Sunday 160 post click here.

The Sunday 160 only uses 160 characters (including spaces).
Keep on schedule - post Sunday.
Let me know you have posted via a comment on my site.
Visit at least one other Sunday 160.
_______________________________