The Girl With The Full Moon Face

https://audioboom.com/boos/4681612-the-girl-with-the-full-moon-face

My girl is special

Words fail me in description;

Her face like that of a full moon,

Round and ever so vibrant.

On nights of a full moon she comes to life

Her back arches,

Her nails extend

Her teeth elongate

Her toes become claws

Her hairy exterior glows

She discards clothing

Runs erratically

The perimeter of the yard.

Howls with blood curdling ferocity

Disappears for hours on end

Returns home sated,

Slinks into my bed

Her fury coat warm against the winter chill,

Snuggles into me

Sleeps peacefully.

At dawn she awakens

My beautiful girl

The girl with the full moon face is back.

 

Written for: http://www.adashofsunny.com/prompt-nights-let-us-walk-together-in-the-moonlight-18/

 

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Music Prompt #46: “What’s Left of the Flag” by Flogging Molly – Walk Away

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My daddy said walk away son

He’d discovered my illicit love affair.

Said she’ll ruin you son

You’ll regret the day

You ever said I do to her.

Your mother God rest her soul.

Would be turning in her grave

To know you have sidled up to that

That….woman…

Drop to your knees boy

Grab your rosary beads

Lets pray for guidance

Lets beg for common sense.

 

 

I should have listened and walked away

But in those days I knew everything

There was nothing I didn’t know

From politics to women to cars.

So I said I do

Moved to the country

Had a bunch of kids

Thought this was the life

But soon learned otherwise

When the abuse became real

The expectations unreal

Day and night turned to drudgery

The traumas multiplied

The torment increased

I was worthless, as husband, lover and father.

 

 

I cringed when I should have walked away

Withdrew and hunkered into my shell.

My only outlet between midnight and dawn

When she snored, the house strangely quiet.

My rage lay unabated and dormant

A terrifying thought should it sneak out

And I became as was jailor was.

The shackles firmly tightened

There was nowhere to go.

Whatever step I took was like digging my grave

So I stayed the fool with the broken heart.

 

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/06/10/music-prompt-46-whats-left-of-the-flag-by-flogging-molly/

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Photo prompt #writephoto – walking on air

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The mist that blanketed the forest was perfect for the grey people who lived underneath. This was their time of day.

Most days I never saw them. They lived camouflaged and safe.

In my mind they were the shadows I saw in the forest, the movements in the corners of my eye, the lurking dread I felt as we rounded a corner in the middle of the night.

They never did anything to quell that notion of their fearsomeness. Like they thrived on my fear.

I knew they possessed a loathsomeness; their grey skin and scraggly hair, their stench and bad breath were all factors I exploited in promoting their obnoxiousness.

I wondered how they felt being dwellers in the mist. As the mist came down they moved about. Did they see the hideousness in each other or did they see attractions and desires, did they look at their opposite and feel their bits tingle, did they enjoy the moments when their gruesome bodies came together and from that a small grey being emerged which they nurtured and loved?

Today the mist was doubly thick and I sat above the valley watching the mist caress the valley below. Through the mist I knew they were moving about, doing what they do, content their lives had meaning and purpose.

I knew that when the mist cleared they would be gone. But they were always there in the forest shadows, in the recesses along the creeks and always just out of sight of the corner of my eye.

 

Written for: https://scvincent.com/2016/06/09/photo-prompt-writephoto-walking-on-air/

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Grimace Street

https://audioboom.com/boos/4673049-grimace-street

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Tale Weaver #71 June 9 – Behind Closed Doors – Grimace Street

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Image© Mara Eastern (Used with permission)

Grimace Street was like so many streets except it housed the remarkable Miss Marble. She lived at No 46 three up from my house and she’d lived there a long time. We all knew she was a witch but no one ever breathed a word of it to anyone outside Grimace Street.

Most people could never remember a time when Miss Marble wasn’t at No 46. By the time I grew up she had established a pretty regular routine with her neighbours.

Tuesday was Ailments Day, Wednesday Pets Day and Thursday Garden Day.

If on those days you had reason to call on her she would help you in any way she could. You had to go around the back of her house and wait for her.

Mind there was a protocol to be followed. You had to be a resident in the street and there was no way she would allow outsiders into her back shed where she did all her best work.

In the shed were her cauldrons, each one bubbling away with some potion or concoction designed to make life a little better for man, woman, beast or garden.

She expected the best of manners when you called on her. Knock politely, state your business and wait as she looked around her shed for just the thing to set you on the right path.

If you were impolite such as Unsavoury Avery was one day after several attempts to get help from Miss Marble had gone unanswered, your rudeness could result in something dire. Even after she explained to Unsavoury Avery several times about his manner in speaking to her he still insisted it was his right as the occupant of 3 Grimace Street to have his needs attended to.

On the unfortunate occasion he burst into her shed demanding help for a nasty body rash, Miss Marble had had enough of pandering to his non-existent good nature.

Added to her displeasure was the sight of her dog, Sal, (short for Salivate) growling at Unsavoury as he ranted and raved about his rights to her attention.

Mrs Smurther, a delightful young grey haired lady at No 36 saw him enter and cannot remember Unsavoury leaving. Later that day Arnold Coaps noticed a new concrete frog in Miss Marble’s front garden one that had a familiar look about it but one he couldn’t place.

No 3 Grimace Street stood idle for a long time as no amount of searching found any trace of Unsavoury.

For the rest of us it was business as usual with our aches and pains given relief of a Tuesday, our pets groomed and or cured of what ever it was that ailed them on Wednesday and all the gardeners with their green thumbs were given an extra green thumb as it was called in the form of Miss Marble’s Garden Tonic.

Life in Grimace Street went along a treat, healthy folk with healthy pets and the greenest most productive gardens in the district.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/06/09/tale-weaver-69-june-9-behind-closed-doors/

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Photo Challenge #116 – Left In No Mans Land

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Image: ScarletteDeath on DeviantArt

You left me as you would garbage

Dumped beside the bin.

You ran off

Leaving me in the dirt.

Now I live with the pain

The torment, the destruction

My life in tatters

Not once have you admitted

You violated me, used me,

Left me in confusion.

I woke up not knowing

Why my body was bruised

Cut and scratched

My self penetrated

My clothes pulled above my head

My body exposed for anyone to see

The indignity, the violation

Never once struck you

As something you were responsible for?

Yes we were drunk

Yes I admit to drinking too much

But claiming you didn’t know

What you were doing, is lame

Irresponsible and destructive.

You have left me wandering in no man’s land

From which I will never recover.

I struggle each day with who I am.

For so long I couldn’t sleep

Terrifying memories haunt me

I cannot stand being in the dark.

May you one day my perpetrator

Understand the magnitude of your crime

Accept your role in ruining both our lives.

 

This response to the image comes from reading “Victim Reads Letter to Her Rapist in Court

Featured on: https://scoutsthoughts.wordpress.com/2016/06/07/victim-reads-letter-to-her-rapist-in-court/

 

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/06/07/photo-challenge-116/

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FFfAW Challenge – Week of 06-07-2016 – The Happy Boy

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Image © Phylor

 

Despite his obvious affliction he was a happy boy. You only had to look at him to see what a contented little boy he was.

He did gather about him assorted spare parts, not that he wanted them attached but it was comforting for him to know they were there. Being an armless torso never fazed him. Always he looked to see the better side of life.

Once he had held pride of place in the royal palace but war had brought an end to his beauty, another victim of the battle they said as they dumped what was left of him in the rubbish pile behind the palace long with the other destroyed statues.

Here he remained with the other broken pieces of sculptured wonder carrying on conversations in broken speeches about their former days of glory.

 

Written for: https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/

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Wordle #112 “June 6th, 2016” Saurian

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This week’s words: Saurian (belonging or pertaining to the Sauria, a group of reptiles originally including the lizards, crocodiles, and several extinct forms but now technically restricted to the lizards. Resembling a lizard.) Fuel Leak Head Psychosis Elevate Offline Similar Jerk Legible Massive Entelechy (a realization or actuality as opposed to a potentiality. In vitalist philosophy a vital agent or force directing growth and life.)

The saurian stepped its way through the landscape assured of his majesty and power. It was suddenly aware of a new predator. The jerk of its head was enough to suggest its puzzlement.

Its massive head turned in the direction of the sound.

It was at this second it experienced a entelechic moment. Where it had previously ruled the world without fear now there was a potential foe to deal with as well as eat.

The potential enemy was a similar two-legged beast. Much smaller but fuelled by a desire to eat. This beast was competition.

Now Saurians are not known as the most complete of animals, their small brain fuelled the desire to eat the two-legged creature, in one bite if possible, but in modern terms it possessed a psychotic response to most situations.

Inside its head there leaked the words, attack, attack, attack!!

The two-legged creature in order to bring about some equity in size climbed a tree to elevate itself to a height where it might be on equal terms with the mighty saurian. In its hand it carried a small stick, well small if you are a giant lizard. The whole scenario was legible in a prehistoric sort of way. Well to the saurian it was quite clear. Charge; put the creature offline quicker than it could get online. Dinner done and dusted for another day, though the creature didn’t look much more than an appetiser.

In the ensuing minutes the saurian encountered the sheer destructive cunning of the two legs whose stick contained a poison that sent the lizard to a sudden death.

The age of the two legs had begun; the age of the saurian had begun to decline.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/06/06/wordle-112-june-6th-2016/

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Moral Mondays: “Look, don’t touch”

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Brenda Fawn was the most beautiful girl I knew. She was a class ahead of me at school and to me she was perfection.

That she was older than me meant she would never have looked my way and why would she when she attracted so much attention from the older boys.

She played tennis at the same club as me and I’d see her there on weekends in her tennis skirt showing off her beautifully made legs all sun tanned and powerful.

My undying love for her was from a distance, the only touching was with myself.

 

Written for: https://moralmondays.wordpress.com/2016/06/05/moral-mondays-look-dont-touch/

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Sunday June 5 2016 Writing Prompt: lighten up! Resume

This week’s task: REWRITE YOUR RESUMÉ in a new light. 

 

Name: Thomas Summers

Address: 16 Fairy Tale Avenue, Fernville, NSW Australia.

Life Experience:

Born: 30th October 1953, he was very young at the time.

Age 0 – 5 Toilet trained, speech learned, manners and a love of reading developed.

Age 6: Classed as a child progeny.

Age 7: Re classed a Child Wastrel.

Age 12: Translated War and Peace into Latin. Sold one copy – Thanks to his mum.

Age 13: Began High School

Age 14: Told to start again.

Age 16: Discovered girls weren’t all that horrible after all. In fact they looked a whole lot better than his sporting mates, at least a lot softer.

Age 17: Completed High School, walked the Kododa Trail backwards, fell in love with Emma Standen, Mary Jones and Betty Gold.

Age 18: Discovered he was a sexual stud and relished his new found reputation, realised tally marks were more than a mathematical tool.

Age 20: Wrote his first novel; I was a Teenage Stud: number one bestseller at the Morpeth Newsagency 1973.

Age 23: Graduated University, Degree in Compliancy, First class honours in Procrastination.

Age 24: Climbed Mt Everest, first man to do so on a diet of baked beans.

Age 25: wrote his first major award-winning novel: All Answers to the Meaning of Life.

Age 27: Nobel Prize for Literature for his novel: Travels with a Gouty Toe.

Age 29: married Amy Armstrong.

Age 30: First child born, Marcus James

Age 35: Second child Amelia Rose, gained employment at All stars University…

Age 36: Survives rumours of sexual impropriety and paid huge extortion to Patsy Pansy to shut her up…Wife leaves him for a man from Serbia who promises her the world and more. Years later she comes back penniless, childless and homeless.

Age 40: Writes award winning novel: The Meaning of Life and Toasted Sandwiches.

Age 41 – 50 Kept low profile, forced to pay back monies embezzled and holidayed at Her Majesties Prison Darcyville

Age 50 – 60 Re-established self, worked as a grocery packer; meat packer and clothes line installer.

Current age: 62: Working as a full stop on a road gang, has found his place in the world, is happy, his children love him one day hate him the next, is writing a new novel: From Wastrel to Wastrel a Life in Perspective.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/06/05/sunday-june-5-2016-writing-prompt/

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