Sun cuts low through trees,
Squirrels burrow under roots,
People chase daylight.
Winter solstice then Christmas
Hibernation ~ if only ~
~National Grid alert~
Christmas stomping on the world:
an unwanted gift
their electricity bill
our indefinite future
Once crowned with a star,
it glittered in the firelight.
Last year’s Christmas tree
dumped, forgotten and homeless,
its chocolate coins melted.
Besieged on all sides,
chimneys whistle, timbers creak–
Beyond, in cardboard city,
lie papier-mâché homes.
Genre: General Fiction
Word count: 100
~~A MATTER OF PERSPECTIVE~~
Whenever Seamus espied his ex-wife with that swanky billionaire, his legs gave out at the knees and he suffered an attack of vertigo.
In another life Seamus had been a violinist who played a Stradivarius, but now he dwelt under a railway arch, his home a cardboard box. Daily, he busked on a distressed fiddle. A few people tossed coins in his cap, but most passed him by, treating him as less than a bug.
Today, it dawned on him that bugs had been around a lot longer than humans had, and would probably outlive them all, including his ex-wife.
Photo Prompt: copyright © Shaktiki Sharma
Friday Fictioneers: 100 word stories
You lived in terror of rats gnawing through to your bones with their tombstone teeth as you slept.
One day, a man clattered down the street on stilts and cast some pennies into your hat. You said to him, “Seeing as you’re a giant, do us a favour, mate. Paint us a door and two windows high up on that wall over there.”
“I agree it’s unsightly.” (he meant you, not the wall)
That night, your rheumy eyes deceived you. Above, you saw your doorway leading to salvation away from the meths bottle and rats, if only you had stilts.
Friday Fictioneers: 100-word stories
Photo Prompt: image © Lauren Moscato
Busker plays bagpipes;
man lies on pavement nearby,
comatose with drink.
Lullaby, sweet lullaby.
Sink into oblivion.