Dear Day,

I assume you think it’s fashionable to consist of nothing more than 24 hours.

Have you ever considered a prolonged visit? Perhaps 30-32 hours would be more fitting and might even underline your qualities in a more beneficial way – plus it would give us time to tend to things that really matter.
Less isn’t always more.
Sometimes I wish you would rethink your methods and grace us with your presence a little longer than deemed necessary.

I would ask of you to think about it.
Should you be willing to consider my request, I would be more than happy to schedule a meeting with the Sun and Moon to discuss cycles. I am positive we could come to a satisfactory conclusion for all parties involved.
Thank you for your time – I know it is precious.

Sincerely,
the Rushed

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From Beyond

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And in this greatest turmoil we gather, to walk alongside men once more.
Too long have we been absent; too long have we witnessed decay and destruction turn this world into a shadow of its former self.
It is time.

We are the past, present and future.
We spin the threads of life that hold the fate of man, and we shall guide you to the dawning of a new age.

Embrace your destiny.
It is time.

(77 words)

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In Norse Mythology, the Norns are female beings who rule the destiny of gods and men.

Written for VisDare33: Indifferent – 150 words or less. Grab a pen and join the fun!
photo credits: leclownlyrique.files.wordpress.com

Evolution

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“So, this is it?” she asks, and stands up on her tiptoes to get a better view. ” I don’t understand what’s so funny about them, Mom. They don’t look funny to me.”
Molly is seven.
How can I explain to her, why those store window mannequins just caused me to laugh hysterically?
She was born in the age of Botox, where people pluck, shave and shape everything. We, as a whole, are evolving from ape to plastic. How can I explain to her, that those plastic figures don’t resemble anything remotely human, when she is surrounded by people looking exactly like them? It takes a lot of effort to hide my tears of frustration behind laughter.
” It’s an old person’s joke, Molly. Maybe someday, you will understand.”
She gives me a quizzical look, takes my hand, and together, we stride through a world of make-believe; a world no longer human.

(149 words)

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Written for VisDare31: Focused – 150 words or less. Grab a pen and join the fun!
photo credits: saatchionline.com

The Horse’s Head

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He was unmoved by the fact, that he had instantly smelled the gun on Frank, who had picked him up to “go, see the man” a few minutes ago. The look in Frank’s eyes, as they casually exchanged pleasantries, screamed murder. Frank had never been much of a poker player, nor would he ever be – the inability to hide emotions would not get Frank far in this business.
It did not matter. For once, they would not be able to use his family as leverage. His wife and children were safely out of the picture, he had seen to that.
As he entered the room, his eyes fell on the polished mahogany desk and those manicured hands, tapping the smooth surface. Pavolini fixed him with his grey, concrete stare.
“Sam. Please, have a seat.”

This time, there would be no mercy.
This time, there would be blood.

(147 words)

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Written for VisDare28: Obscured – 150 words or less. Grab a pen and join the fun!
photo credits: observatory.designobserver.com

 

The Long Hours

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She had ribbons in her hair. Purple velvet, nested in a sea of auburn. Small amethyst beads on her neck sparkled softly in the lantern light, complimenting her radiant smile. Her dress billowed and swirled as she danced to the sole violin’s tune, her breathless laughter the sweetest music in his ears. They fell in love beneath the stars; and love, in all its forms, guided them throughout the years, until auburn turned gray, turned white.
When she left, his heart went with her.

On this November day, there is no warmth left in the sun. He gently touches the amethyst necklace, carefully placed on the wooden chair next to his. The tea in his tin cup has long gone cold. Trees shed their leaves in gusts of autumn wind, and his Longing counts the hours, until they meet again.

(140 words)

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Written for VisDare26: Engraved – 150 words or less. Grab a pen and join the fun!
photo credits: graphicmania.net