Weekend Quickie #222

Weekend Quickie #222

Saturday, March 11, 2017

One Image, One Prompt, One Emotion

200 Words



Photo Source Unknown, Pinterest

4 thoughts on “Weekend Quickie #222

  1. Hans

    “This is…” James began his sentence but petered off, only continuing to run along the road surrounding by water.
    “What?” asked Deidre, running almost alongside him, thinking about Hans, her bit-on-the-side. The dying light of the huge orange sun skimming the surface of the sea lit their way on their evening jog.
    “I…I…feel disoriented. It’s…the poles,” said James, keeping pace.
    “The poles?” They had run this route every other day for the last six months and James had never mentioned any problems with the poles.
    “Yes, they’re like…trees, trees in a forest. Although I know I’m running on a long straight road, I feel, with those poles going by, that we’re in a forest and…” He went quiet again.
    “And?” She checked her sports watch, they had about half an hour to go.
    “…and I feel… alone, but connected to…nature?” said James. “I feel a bit spaced out.”
    “Waldeinsamkeit?” asked Deidre.
    “Sorry?” replied James.
    “Waldeinsamkeit,” she answered.
    “Never heard of him,” said James. “Is he an acquaintance of yours?”
    “Waldeinsamkeit. It’s a German word for being alone and feeling connected to nature,” said Deidre.
    “Oh,” said James. He was silent for a while. “Since when did you know any German?”

  2. They’d waited too long. The only highway in or out of the Keys – two lanes, no turn-offs and nothing but water and more water to look at- and he’d decided to wait until the very last minute to comply with the evacuation order.

    Sitting in the front seat of her father’s rusty, sun-faded Impala, the ocean was nearly eye level. Elise shook her head trying to displace the feeling of disorientation.

    She focused on the orange setting sun and the ocean virtually surrounding them. The longer she stared, the less she saw, and her waldeninsamkeit (that feeling one gets sitting alone in a forest, alone but not lonely, connected but not to man) was strong despite the impending danger.

    She’d always felt safe when her father was near. This was no different. She knew the ocean was rising and the storm was set to hit within the hour, but she was calm, serene. The meteorologist said this was the worst storm to hit East Coast since Katrina, and the governor had called a state of emergency.

    If he was sure they would make it, then she was sure too. As she closed her eyes, the car shook, and she smiled.

  3. Is This Love or Just Confusion?

    Dave sat cross-legged at the shore-line with index fingers touching thumbs, hands resting on his knees, watching boats drift by. A giant orange moon rose above the horizon casting its reflection across the water. Dave felt completely as one with nature as he chanted his mantra and was swept up into a spiritual realm of peace and oneness.

    That’s when he saw a bright light afar off coming toward him. Just as he was about to be enveloped in the light and swept into nirvana forever a loud screeching of tires and an annoying “HONK!” startled Dave from his meditation. Realizing he was sitting in the middle of a road and a speeding car had almost killed him, Dave leapt up and scurried off the road. “HONK! HONK! HONK!” A man leaned out the car window and shouted. “Hey dumb-ass, get out of the road!” as he accelerated away.

    Disoriented, Dave watched the car disappear down the road, then he turned to look down the road, but discovered he was now standing in two feet of water. “What the …!?” Dave wondered. Looking around, the road was gone. Dave waded out of the water, collected his things from the shore-line, and started wandering aimlessly. He wondered, had he been sitting on the shore and imagined the road, or had he been sitting in the road and was now imagining the shore?

    “Was that God behind the bright light?”
    “No.” he thought. “That wasn’t God.”

    Dave puzzled,

    “Then … who was that guy?”

  4. Morning Mamie.

    I am not sure what tasted worse; my morning after dog-breath, or the damp leaf mould which half-filled my open, dribbling mouth.

    There was that buzzing again. That is what woke me. My phone…a text.
    I rolled over, pushed myself into a sitting position at the base of the tree and breathed in deeply of the pine scented, wood rotting, fungus growing, dank air. The odour of the woods was one I loved. I felt at home here, always have, ever since I was a small child.

    Pulling the phone from my pocket I squinted at the screen, trying to focus on the words, yet my fuddled brain was not operating at full capacity. It was still soaked in a bucketful of rye whisky.

    Eventually my eyes and mind focused enough for me to read. Someone called Mamie wanted a 200-word short story. Well, she had no chance until I had washed the alcohol from my veins with a gallon of hot black coffee.

    It was so early in the morning the moon was still hanging over the bay.
    The engine rumbled into life, the noise pounding against my fragile, dehydrated brain. At least it was only seven miles to town.

    I could do that, if I gritted my teeth and squinted at the road ahead.


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