Armageddon’s Arrival – prosery

 

Armageddon’s Arrival

I drift down the middle of the river, my paddle in the water only when necessary to navigate past hazards. And oh, are there hazards. Surrounded by the past, ablaze on the shores beside me and floating on the current that carries me, with little prospect for the future, my life is little more than the clothes on my back and as bleak as the landscape of death surrounding me.

Of what matter are the details that led to this tragic moment? One nation acted out of a desire to secure precious resources, another responded, and an Armageddon foretold through the ages has finally come to pass.

In the glow of the fires that surround me, everything is cloaked in the haze of smoke, and navigation becomes more difficult as dusk approaches. A red moon rides on the humps of the low river hills.

This bit of flash fiction is my response to Jazzing It up on Prosery Monday, presented by Lillian at dVerse ~ Poets Pub. With Prosery, the challenge is to write a piece of flash fiction with a 144-word limit. Included in the bit of prose is to be a complete line from a poem. For this prompt, the line to be included is “a red moon rides on the humps of the low river hills” from Carl Sandburg’s “Jazz Fantasia”. My flash fiction also meets the additional challenge of hitting the 144-word mark, exactly. Other entries can be read here.

Reflecting on Darkness

Reflecting on Darkness as it appears below is flawed – note the duplication of paragraph #2 in paragraph #1.  I have corrected that with Reflecting on Darkness ~ Reboot, but I am leaving this version here as a reminder to myself to pay closer attention when using the editor.      …      Ken G.

Reflecting on Darkness

And what of that darkness? Should I let it consume me? The light I cast may be a faint reflection, but it is here, always, the only shadows falling beneath the measured steps of men long gone, or cast by the occasional passing of that globe of beauty amid the darkness.

And what of that darkness? Should I let it consume me? The light I cast may be a faint reflection, but it is here, always, the only shadows falling beneath the measured steps of men long gone, or cast by the occasional passing of that globe of beauty amid the darkness.

Perhaps that orb gazes towards me, the same questions crossing its mind as it ponders the darkness that surrounds us. Can there be more to this world, or that, than meets the eye?

I dreamt I was the moon.

I used that line, “I dreamt I was the moon,” in my last post always early morning, a magnetic poem. I was away for a week, returning the evening of July 22nd, and apparently glanced at the dVerse prompt (now closed) before setting aside writing to work on another project for a few days. When I found the line in my notes, I assumed it was for a poem and went from there. I’m glad that Jane and Merril reminded me about the original prompt (now closed).

This bit of flash fiction is my response to Prosery #2, presented by Sarah at dVerse. With Prosery, the challenge is to write a piece of flash fiction with a 144-word limit. Included in the bit of prose is to be a complete line from a poem. For Prosery #2, the line to be included is “I dreamt I was the moon” from Alice Oswald’s “Full Moon.” My flash fiction also meets the additional challenge of hitting the 144-word mark, exactly.

Image source: ©NASA (Earthrise)

Ken G.

Out of Steam

Out of Steam

Out of Steam

True, it was a vast improvement over the toil of riding a bicycle thirty miles across the hilly countryside to the next town, and it had been a great ride, while it lasted. However, the limitations of his invention became quite clear in this first test run.

The heat generated by the boiler was unbearable, even with the wind-effect generated by higher speeds, but the real problem was in fuel range, a point driven home as he pushed his lococycle the last two miles into town.

Now, to find a homeowner willing to part with a bucket of coal.

This bit of flash-fiction is in response to the Friday Fictioneers prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – to write a complete story in 100 words or less, using the provided photo prompt. Word count here: 100.  (Other entries can be seen here.)

Yes, there were steam cycles in the 1860s: the Michaux-Perraux steam velocipede, with an alcohol-fueled engine, and the Roper steam velocipede, which was coal-fired with an exhaust stack.

Photo prompt ©: Jellico’s Stationhouse