Writer. Feminist. Historian. Person.
“Sit still!” she commanded, as I shifted in my chair, “you’ll only feel a pinch.”
Despite her supposedly reassuring words, her eyes gleamed, glassy with malicious anticipation.
Fright prickled the skin on the back of my neck, and I twisted away from the needle.
Maybe I could do try and do a runner.
There must be a road. My mind drifting back, as my body dropped like a sack of potatoes and my vision turned to dust, there must be a road.
vibrating, I walk
my heart tinged by tragedy
greed cracks earth’s spirit
but your presence calms despair
strings of resistance lift all
It’s Sunday Whirl time! Let’s keep HOPE alive!
strength through unity
ideas arrest injustice
words to remember
when faith in cruelty plagues
resist the urge to escape
Creating a verse for the Sunday Whirl has become my favorite Sunday thing! Thanks.
a ghost of a life
magic cannot bring it back
drag the broken nest
tell the news to the hot breeze
let that zephyr free your need
I love the challenge of creating a short piece that uses all (or in this case, most) of the words. I couldn’t squeeze ‘seems’ into the verse, so I cheated with the title. Thanks!
YOUR SERVE.
The umpire’s ruling rang in my ears as it triggers an endless overlapping loop in my mind: I am in control, this is why I practice, treasure this moment, unless you blow it, I won’t, you might, I can’t, gratitude, I need to channel gratitude, this is my chance, someday I’ll tell stories about this moment, I’ve got to shoot my shot, I won’t blow it, I will not blow it.
The whistle blows time and I swallow my last chug of Gatorade.
It tastes slightly medicinal or maybe that’s just the bitter edge of my nerves as I step onto the court and take my shot.
Boy oh boy, that serve had some extra spice on it folks, but was it in or out?
YOUR SERVE.
Thanks to FOWC (RANG), Sunday’ Six Sentence Story (SPICE), and the Sunday Whirl (SEE BELOW) for some great words that inspired me to show off my lack of tennis (or pickle ball?) knowledge.
Tina Stewart Brakebill 