— Christopher Morley
The Weekly Photo Challenge: Fleeting
The sunlight on the garden
Hardens and grows cold,
We cannot cage the minute
Within its nets of gold;
When all is told
We cannot beg for pardon.
– Louis Macneice
you’re six times six years old today. Six years each as child, boy, adolescent, youth, young man, and youngish man. Now you’re in your prime, though you won’t admit it (yet).
You’ve got a job, a bank account, and a life of your own, but you’re still a son. If you’re lucky, your parents realise you can take care of yourself. You may not need them now, but they still need you.
Look what they did to me to get your attention!
Go ssssee them! Or I’ll sssscratch!
P.SSSSS. I MEAN ITTTT!
Oh, yes, …and Happy Birthday.
* * *
Ready for a new challenge? Try this!
1006words – Paint / shoot 1000 words, write 6.
When they caught him they’d shut him away.
He’d been sitting next to his latest victim spattered head to foot. Lost in thought. His fingers idly drawing patterns in a pool of blood. Almost playing with it. The knife tossed carelessly aside.
They thought he was crazy, He could see the pity in their eyes, once you looked past the horror and disgust.
They just didn’t understand: he only did for the colour. That colour of colours. The colour of rubies. The colour of life. And fresh blood.
What a pity it dried to such an ugly rust brown.
The 40th edition of the 100wcgu: Ruby.