The image shows a red neon sign that reads “Vacancy” over a black background.

Trudging through dark, rain-drenched streets, sodden feet sliding over cobbles, hope ebbs away, like rivulets flowing over muddy gutters. The storm rages beyond the border, and wave upon wave of the cowed and the cowering flee; families struggling, dragging straggling old folk and hungry, wailing kids. Doors open, women beckon, many are taken in. But not us.

midnight approaches
and now the streets are empty
will we ever find refuge?


Image credit: Carter Saunders @ Unsplash
The image shows a red neon sign that reads “Vacancy” over a black background.

Written in response to Sadje‘s What Do You See #123 photo prompt

Forest enchantment

For visually challenged reader, the image shows a woodland scene, where blue butterflies are sitting on the forest floor among tiny mushrooms. Tall trees are visible in the background.

fern fronds caress the moonlight’s cobalt rays

opening night blooms to scent bright butterfly wings

ringing bluebells dancing over dead leaves and distant hearts

ever beating, glowing in the heart of darkness

sending saffron sunbeams sliding over silky loams

tempting new life to rise from the ink-dark dead of night


Written in response to SadjeWhat Do You See #34 photo prompt.
Image credit: Pixabay

The Door

The Door by Chris Hall lunasonline

Light, white-blinding, unable to move.  
Where am I?
Try to remember.

The Door.
I came through The Door.
I remember now.

Flying, over the earth, outside my body,
Outside everything.

Looking down upon myself
at the whiteness of the sheet
covering me.

No need for wine or water.
No need for bread or meat.
I have entered through The Door.

Seeing through the glass darkly,
the way ahead unclear,
but my mind (my soul?) is moving on.

No need for the corporeal,
Set adrift, cast aside,

On the other side of The Door.

Can you look again?

000 HW Prompt 28.04.19

What do you see, Tiger Lily?

I see the moon.
I see the path shining in front of me, illuminated in the bright moonlight.

What else?

Nothing else.

What do you feel, Tiger Lily?

I feel the dampness of the night.
I feel the ground, wet beneath my feet.

What do you hear, Tiger Lily?

I hear waves breaking on a shore far away.
Do I hear you breathing?
Why can’t I see you?

What do you smell, Tiger Lily?

I smell the dampness of the earth.
Nothing else.
Where are you?

What do you taste, Tiger Lily

I taste nothing.
Just emptiness.

What do you remember, Tiger Lily?

I remember when we first met; on a moon-bright night like this.
I remember… everything.

And what do you want, Tiger Lily?

I want you back.

Written in response to The Haunted Wordsmith’s Daily Prompt 28.04.19