I guess it all depends…

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We often experience
A multitude of seasons
And nobody really knows
All of those reasons

But we carry on
Like we always do
Even when the answers
Are nearly none to few

And we never stop to question
What those seasons mean
Yet there must be hidden answers
In everything we’ve seen

Scattered between the pages
Of our monotonous lives
There have got to be reasons
For why we’ve somehow survived

And even if those answers
Are never actually found
We should all be happy
We’ve been allowed to stick around

So many people in this world
Never have that gifted chance
I guess it all depends
On our individual circumstance

© 2019 Michelle Cook


For a month of writing prompts, click here; Along the weathered, winding trail

 

An unencumbered life

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She realized
She couldn’t handle
The reality
Of the inevitable
So in her mind
A fated goodbye
Seemed entirely logical
It was too bad
Her heart
Could never agree

© 2019 Michelle Cook


For a month of writing prompts, click here;  An unencumbered life

 

The Edge of Forever

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There she sat
At the edge of forever
Lost in the gloom
Of the shadowy weather

Slumped all alone
In her dismal state
She wondered if anyone
Could possibly relate

Was her solitary life
Always meant to be
If only the answer
She could one day see

Forever seemed too far
As the friendless void imprisoned
No condemnation to pass
This was mostly her decision

© 2019 Michelle Cook


For a month of writing prompts, click here;  The edge of forever

Hold Your Hankering Horses

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Hold your hankering horses
You know you really must
A little patience is so important
Or else you’ll surely bust

Hold your hankering horses
And quit being so demanding
Don’t you know life is always better
With a little bit of understanding?

Hold your hankering horses
Your antsy attitude needs to go
People don’t like impatience
This is something you ought to know

Hold your hankering horses
Just sit still and listen to me now
I’m explaining your main issue
And if you want to fix it, this is how

Hold your hankering horses
Get a grip and don’t wind up in a tizzy
I’m sorry to say that your behavior
Is only making the rest of us dizzy

Hold your hankering horses
This is the last thing I’m going to say
If you can’t calm down and be patient
Then please just go away

© 2019 Michelle Cook


For a month of writing prompts, click here;  Hold your hankering horses

 

In between the clover and the dampened earth…

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I noticed him lying there, in between the clover and the dampened earth. He was only a mere mirror image of who he once was. I wanted to save him, and restore him to his original state. But it seemed that the truth had sucked the life right out of his chest. Over time, it had appeared that the map, the course set for his life, really had changed; or had he read it wrong to begin with?

Memories of her began to fill his heart and head once more. She had been the loveliest woman he had ever known. Her skin was always soft and warm, like a silk blanket covered with the faintest hint of her perfume. But deep down in the dungeon of his worn out soul, he knew what he had done. He could still picture the two halves of her dress, left frayed and worn. He had been consumed by fear that night so very long ago, and he remembered standing as still as the dark night above him while he watched as the moon exploded. She had hurriedly dressed, then wept as the music faded away. An uncertain destiny awaited, for now, they had no other choice.

Holding her gaze briefly from across the room, he knew she was no longer his. As she rushed out into an unknown future, she became transfixed by all the wondrous lights, and never even noticed that he was still there. A steady breeze of newfound potential guided her along, while he kept his hands in his pockets, nervously playing with his keys. And suddenly his future hopes and dreams began to fade as the old trusty door to his future began to melt against the corroding brass frame. He wondered if it was all a glitch or just his imagination. Droplets of sweat began to fall from his brow as he remembered back to how the blade had glistened, and venom seemed to pour from his eyes, as poisoned tears filled his invisible cup. He drank the last drop, then plummeted into a sea of depression. Decompression arrived quickly after the window to his hopes blew out.

She began to see nothing except heavenly creatures, all of whom featured boldly in her dreams. She had changed and now reeked of sugary sweets, her teeth giving away her disguise. Fishnet stockings were a pleasant surprise to all the new men in her life, and an eruption of presents could be seen as each one bribed her for the countless pleasures they knew she’d provide. In the end, only a half-eaten muffin and a spoon remained; mere remnants of another morning that meant nothing. She snickered as she ran away from all of them until she noticed what was behind her. She couldn’t escape the truth; it had finally captured her soul.

The last bell chimed, and not even the crickets could be heard, as she watched the floating orb hover over the painting above the hearth. And suddenly both he and her remembered the planter boxes of peculiar looking pansies, the ones that once lined the odd shaped path which had led them to each other. And then they both finally noticed the secret, entombed inside the jar of honey. It clearly held the key to all their torment, something they had never once allowed themselves to see.

© 2018 Michelle Cook


I had quite a bit of  fun writing this short story, which is a combination of all of the December writing prompts.  Hope you enjoyed it!  ~M 😉

To read the prompts, click here.

Nightmarish Newts

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Clouds part
And the shadow’s curse
For each nightmare knows
What’s coming is worse

Since blackest night
May cause fears
But it’s the moon arising
That brings most fears

Hairs prick
As the howling cries begin
And the man in the moon shivers
Losing his grin

For the demon’s call
Is surefooted and true
Be careful and look out
Or the newts may catch you

© 2018 Michelle Cook


For a month of writing prompts, click here; Nightmarish newts

Coffin Candy

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She was a real tasty candy apple treat
Loved by all the men she’d often meet

Subtly sexy and radiating desire
Just what every man sought, wanted, and required

But there was a secret which she kept hidden
Something about her, so temptingly forbidden

One nip from her and they’d finally understand
Vampires always have the upper hand

© 2018 Michelle Cook


For a month of writing prompts, click here; Coffin Candy