Daily Prompt – Elusive

I struggle today, my thoughts elusive, hovering just out of reach, hesitating to tell my story. My pen hovers over the paper, my hand shaking with anticipation. Still nothing comes. I sigh and put the pen down until tomorrow.

Daily Prompt – Frail

Faint memories skimmed the edges of her mind like dragonflies alighting the surface of a pond. She struggled to grasp them and hold onto them but they fell through her fingers and away like so many others. She was once strong and fierce, a force to be reckoned with. But with the softness and sweetness of an angel. Her life had been a struggle, but not more so than anyone else. She held her head high, proud to call herself a woman. Proud to call herself a wife, a mother. Proud to be a God fearing woman who earned an honest wage.

The years came and went and she stayed strong and fierce. The struggle remained and she fought with everything in her. But eventually, no matter how strong and fierce, no matter how soft and sweet, we lose the fight. We become such frail, fragile things. Mere shadows of our former selves.

Her frail memory would not let her recall her former glory. Nor could she remember how strong and fierce she once was. Or how soft and sweet. She struggled to find any memories at all. They all seemed to be just there, at the edge of her mind, where the dragonflies alit on the surface.

Daily Prompt – Drive

I sit, paralyzed with fear. I can’t leave but I can’t stay. My heart tells me to run as fast and as far as I can. Get in the car and drive and never look back. But my head . . . damn if my head doesn’t tell me the same thing. Except something is keeping me from leaving. Not my heart, not my head. Then what? Fear. Fear of failure. Fear of success. Fear that I might be okay alone and fear that I might not. I want to get in the car and drive. Drive as far and as fast as I can and never look back. I don’t care what direction, as long as it’s away from here. But I sit, paralyzed with fear.

Daily Prompt – Storm

A storm was brewing on the horizon. She could feel it in her bones. She always knew when there was something coming. A dark cloud hung over her. She got a strange chill in her spine, that feeling you get when you think someone is following you in the shadows. It was going to be a bad night. She braced herself for the worst.

He burst into the room like a Category 4 hurricane, winds howling, rain pelting against the glass windows, battering the house with its full force. Except it wasn’t an outside force. This rage came from within.

She stood ready to withstand the gale. She had done this before. It wasn’t her first battle with him and his demons. But she loved him and she was willing to fight for him, with him. First there would be the accusation. She would counter with facts. The truth about where she was, who she was with, proof of her innocence. Then there would be the doubt. Perhaps someone was covering for her. A friend providing an alibi. An elaborate cover-up. He had a great imagination when it came to her testimony.

They would have a free-for-all fight. Throw words at each other, accusations, ugly reminders of past discretions. He would go for the liquor cabinet. That was a certainty. He liked his bourbon on nights like these. She would have liked to stop him but it only urged him on. So she watched him pour two fingers and drink, hoping it would stop at one glass.

He would glare at her in contempt and she would cringe, knowing the one time mistake would forever haunt her. For this she paid the price time and again. The storm raged on. Eventually he would calm, either pass out or let the rage pass and sleep in the guest bedroom down the hall. She was left on her own, to relive her own failures, her own regrets. She was a fallen woman and no amount of penance would change that.

The storm had come and passed. Once again she had weathered it. But at what cost?

Daily Prompt – Guest

My mother told me to save the fine china for when we had guests. Except we never have guests. I’m an introvert. I married an introvert. We don’t like dinner parties. We barely like family dinners. Except with our two sons. Who don’t appreciate fine china.

I don’t know why I even got the china. Tradition. I didn’t have a ‘real’ wedding. It was a halfway elopement. The china came as birthday and Christmas and anniversary presents for years afterwards from my mother-in-law until I finally told her I had a complete set. And I’ve used it exactly once. At Thanksgiving. To prove a point. That I had a set of fine china and I could use it. It made my husband and sons extremely uncomfortable. Then they glared at me when I told them they couldn’t put it in the dishwasher.

I’ve tried to use the china again. But my husband resists at every turn. He hates it when I pull out a tablecloth. “No, I’ll just spill something on it and stain it.” He puts a dishcloth underneath his plate to protect the $30.00 tablecloth. So fine china is a no go in our house. It sits on the top shelf of the cabinet. Occasionally I think about pulling it down to use for dinner. Then I think about my mother. “Save the fine china for when you have guests.” I sigh. But I don’t have guests.

Daily Prompt – Cowardice

I sit here alone. Fighting the urge to talk. No, I’ve drawn my line. I’m right. I’m RIGHT. That’s what matters. After all it’s a black and white world. Or at least it should be. I’m right. And what happened to me is wrong. So I made my stand. My silent stand. We’ll see how many people miss me. My friends, my true friends, they should stand with me. They should defend me. I won’t be alone. Will I? Are there people who will fight for someone else’s honor any more? Am I the last great hero? Is my silence just an act of cowardice?