She always stood out in the glow of the darkness that makes up your universe. She can be dangerous. You knew that the first day you met her. The way she looked back at you after your first meeting. She was a magnet for your desires. One would do well to stay clear of her you thought. But she is enchanting. Moving effortlessly across your conscious mind she cast her spell. You are frozen. He flowing soft legs will shortly wrap around your limp body. You knew from the beginning your time was limited.
I found my spot in the endless line of desperate, lonely, and sick looking humans looking for work.
Weekend Writing Prompt # 171 Impact
I am finding it very hard to find a job in Milan. I touted my many skills to potential employers. I have mention my ability to design bridges, waterways, cannons, armored vehicles and public buildings. Surely one of those many skills will make an impact on my future.
Perhaps my potential employer has enough candidates better qualified than me. Should I tell him I can also paint.
This post is submitted to the Weekend Writing Prompt.
Your artist had a very distinctive style.
You would think that you deserve a much larger showcase.
A small picture frame for a lady with the famous smile.
In a place where legion of foreign tourists used to jostle for elbow space.
In response to Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge
It was a hot early morning in Havana.
“Where can I find a ride to the museum?” I asked the young man eating a banana.
He was a chatty young fellow.
He pointed to the taxi he called “Sunshine Yellow.”
“It is just like the flu. Believe me nothing is going to happen to you. Just a few of my friends will be there. One day we will look back on this and laugh. Everyone is healthy; everyone is just fine. Put that ugly mask away my faithful friend. Whatever happened to your devil may care attitude?”
I was offended by his cavalier attitude.
This post is in response to the Weekend Writing prompt.
We walked this beach many times. As little girls we promised to be best friends forever. Then came careers, husbands and children of our own. The walks became less frequent. We compared notes on our life’s progress until the pain from the pancreatic cancer became unbearable. Your daughter’s words still haunt me today. “You better come quick. Mom’s dying.”