Single, today of all days.

May Day. I could hear the music – the main street would be full of couples, lining up to be joined, and then to dance. As a child I’d wondered what it would be like to be, on this day, without a date. On a back street, dusky bags beneath my eyes, I found out.

One last glance at the other singles. No. I wasn’t going to tie myself to one of them for life, not even to stay. To walk the same streets every day, between a house I’d been assigned to, to a shop I’d always known? To have children who’d grow up to live here, here and nowhere else? I shrugged. Maybe this was better.

The gates opened. Someone was crying. I hugged my parents tightly, and then walked on, into the world outside. The gates closed behind us. We were alone.

A quadrille for Lisa at dVerse. A quadrille is 144 words of flash fiction incorporating a quotation from a poem. Lisa has chosen:

On this day without a date,
On a back street, dusky
— Charles Simic, from My Friend Someone

Prosery: the poem

I was aware of it all day. The seed of a poem lay dormant in my heart, but I had no time for it. A poem is a frivolous thing: I had memory cakes to bake, and wafers to layer with joy and dreams – delicate work that requires concentration. Nobody wants dreams at a funeral, or sad memories at a wedding. I had to weave words carefully into each layer.

“Later”, I said to the poem.

But I spent the afternoon mixing luck into biscuit batter and gathering sunshine to knead into the morning bread. It wasn’t until I closed the bakery that I could look at my poor poem.

I planted it, and watered it. It will revive. I’ll have a fine display by market day, ready for those who hanker after fancy pens and pretty notebooks, but can’t grow their own poems.

Prosery at dVerse. 144 words of flash fiction, this month hosted by Mish.

Mish chose the following line to include in our prosery.

“The seed of a poem lay dormant in my heart.”

~ from “Winged Words”, Valsa George

Cliff-dweller

Some days I can set myself adrift in space. In time.

I sit, thousands of feet above the sea, watching. I remember wooden triremes, manned by heroes, and fishing smacks. Now there are great ships weighed down by cargo – and white sailboats, and emptiness.

I always loved this thyme-scented, sun-baked place, because of the ocean.  When the gods left, I came here for shelter. My sisters hid elsewhere – I used to hear their voices, but now I think I am alone.

Some days, I can raise a hand and see the waves through my skin. Some days I’m solid as the rock I sit on. Some days I hear music. Some days, nothing but my own heart beating. Some days I drift through memories.

I’m too ancient to feel sorrow. The sun on my skin is enough, and the sound of the sea.

Prosery for Merril at dVerse. Our quotation is “In space in time I sit thousands of feet above the sea”, from May Sarton, “Meditation in Sunlight”

Watching

On the screen, tiny people walk to and fro along winding paths. A girl in pink pauses by the lake. A dog runs after a ball.

I’d like to be there. I’d like to sit under the cherry tree; to dig my fingers into the rich earth. I’d like, too, to plant the sweet alyssum that smells like honey and peace; to pick the roses that smell of home; hear a robin singing.

I can’t, of course. I can only watch. The simulation’s different every time. Tomorrow the girl in pink may bring a kite. A child may place a toy boat on the pond. A different dog may sniff a tree trunk. I watch every day, remembering the time when we took all this for granted – grass, flowers, the sound of birds, the smell of alyssum. The time before we lost it all.

A piece of prosery for Sanaa at dVerse: 144 words of flash fiction, incorporating a quotation from a poem. Tonight Sanaa’s given us a line by Katherine Reigel: I’d like, too, to plant the sweet alyssum that smells like honey and peace

The garden

I went back to the garden where it all started. The new owner didn’t notice me – too busy drinking tea and pruning the roses.

I preferred it wilder. Do you remember? The way honeysuckle tumbled over the wall? That’s been tamed and trimmed. The way the wide branch of the chestnut tree made a place to sit and read or dream? She’d had it sliced away, leaving a scar. The lichen-covered statue of the winged boy where we had our first kiss? She’d had him carted away.

I could have cried. I would have stroked all those wounds with my fingertips, offered healing – but I’m insubstantial now: I’ve become a memory myself. I could only whisper my stories to the tidy roses, encourage them to rebel, to fling stems up the fences, to throw their scent onto the breeze, to grow thorns, draw blood.

A flash fiction piece for dVerse’s prosery night. I’m hosting. Come and prose with us.

These are the things they don’t tell us – prosery for dVerse.

These are the things they don’t tell us:

• Where we’re going.
• How long the journey is
• What we’ll do when we get there

They tell us why we’re being sent. We are misfits, troublemakers, boat-rockers. We are not wanted here. We’re not criminals – oh no – and this is not punishment. This is opportunity.

Gossip, of course, is rampant. One group thinks we’re being trained for extreme cold. One groups thinks we’re being fed birth control pills. Pink haired Jaine thinks we’re going to be saving the planet.

Me? I listen. I watch. I notice who gets the best seat, who takes the first potato, who takes the last slice of cake. Who glances at their neighbour. Who laughs too much. Because I don’t know where we’re going, but I do know that when we get there, I’m going to survive. I’m going to thrive.

A 144 word flash fiction for Jade at dVerse. Prosery is a dVerse form – 144 words including a quotation from a poem. Today, the quotation is “These are the things they don’t tell us” and the poem is “Notes on Uvalde” by Girl du Jour. You can read the poem in full in Jade’s dVerse prompt. It’s immensely powerful and very moving.

May Day

I have spent too long in this tower, buried in books and grief. I know the seasons by the need for a fire in the grate, a candle in the morning, the way the light moves across the floor. It’s time, now. I have mourned enough. It’s time to take up my life again, emerge into the light, slow and blinking – for how can I be sure I shall see again?

The world on the first of May is a glowing thing, a green and dancing place. Before I left it, I was a green and dancing girl. Now I’m something else, something cracked and strange – but still the world calls me – the green light through the leaves, the scent of May blossom. I have wept and hidden from the world, and now it is time to dance again.

Bring me my green gown.

A prosery for Merril at dVerse. A prosery is a 144 word flash form, containing a line from a poem. Today, Merril has given us

“For how can I be sure
I shall see again
The world on the first of May”

–From “May Day” by Sara Teasdale

Sky – prosery for dVerse

“Mama, what did you do in the Kingdom of the Sky?”

“I wandered”

“Lonely?”

“As a cloud, I was never lonely. Clouds are always clustering together, sharing gossip. The moon is lonely, sometimes. I would visit her and drink pale tea and tell her stories. When I was a star, I spent hours on the phone to my sisters. We would wave to each other across those vast distances.”

“What did you like best?”

“Being a cloud. I was close enough to see what was happening down on the earth. People would look up at me, children would give me shapes and stories. But I liked visiting the moon, too. I liked her sad music and her translucent biscuits. I liked to see her smile”

“Would you go again?”

“No. I’m your mama, my feet are firmly on the ground. Go to sleep now.”

A prosery piece for Lillian at dVerse. 144 words, including the quotation. This one is so famous I’m not going to insult you by picking it out!