Mortar – 144 Word Prosery

Peter looked at the crumbling foundation of his house. Just yesterday he had completed all four walls. He had left the worksite proud of his accomplishment. This morning, his house was a mass of rocks. He sat down on what was once the front steps and picked up a stone. He laid his forehead on the jagged surface feeling the pricks on his skin and his pride. He breathed in and out and emitted a moan like an autumn wind high in the lonesome treetops. He continued to wail, not noticing the liquid splattering on the stone. “Why did you chose me?” his lament rose to the sky, as the September sun shone gently on his face, the wind now ruffling his hair. The sound of a jazz band slid into his ears. Peter felt the moan rise again, like he wanted somebody terrible

My son’s rock collection. He washed them and had put them out to dry.

This bit of prose was inspired by Lillian at dVerse, Prosery Monday, and a line from her favorite poem by Carl Sandburg, “Jazz Fantasia” (links in the poem) as well as Patrick’s Pic and a Word #241 – Stone.

I had listened to a talk about Simon Peter, the apostle who denied Jesus three times, yet was chosen to be the “rock on which He will build his church” this week. This talk focused on how Jesus often chose people, who were not perfect, to be leaders. It was only through the love of Jesus that these imperfect people were still able to lead. These leaders were humble, self-less, and motivated by a Higher Power and not by their own self-interest, greed, or pride. When they faltered, or when things went wrong, they turned to God for help, inviting God into their lives to fill the parts that are broken.

There are many theories about what makes a good leader, especially in the business world.These qualities include being a good listener, being compassionate, being a good communicator, being able to see the big picture. Unfortunately in our current political world, our leaders seem to be severely lacking. What about in our personal world?

©️ 2020 iido

Sleep Deprivation – Flash Fiction

She slept finally, cradled in my arms. I glanced at the clock. 6 AM. Eight hours of crying (her) and cajoling (me). I had heard her twinkling laugh around 10 PM so I went to her room to check on her. I found her standing on her bed, arms high, reaching. I thought it was for me. But when I picked her up, she kept reaching higher and struggling, pushing out of my arms, saying “It’s my time.”

“Time for what?” I had asked. “You’re too young. You don’t know.” So I stayed and held her, whispering words of love and promises. Still, she thrashed, at one point running to the bookcase and clambering up to the window.

At 8 AM, she woke and nudged my arms away. “Mama, I dreamt I was the moon. Let me go tonight. It’s my time to shine.”

Trying a new prompt this week with dVerse – this is Prosery #2 courtesy of SarahSouthWest. The challenge is to write a piece of prose/flash fiction using the phrase “I dreamt I was the moon” taken from Alice Oswald, Oxford Professor of Poetry (UK). The piece must be 144 words or less.

The picture of my shoe and my daughter’s shoe was taken on a funky glow in the dark carpet at Meow Wolf in Santa Fe. She how bright she shines!

©️ iido 2019