Aaron was my brother’s friend, and he had a pet cat named Cleo.
Aaron came over a lot, and his cat would follow him,
My dog barked at the cat through the window or the fence.
Aaron’s house had thick shrubbery with spiders in it.
He called them his pets.
One day, Aaron came over, but Cleo didn’t.
Cleo had died from a spider bite.
His parents tore out the shrubbery. No more spiders.
Except for one that Aaron kept in a jar.
He said some night he’d release it in my room.
I kept my window closed. And locked.
Lisa – Position
A Chat
We talk seriously when we get back. I thought I’d smelled an open fire and I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I’d seen him watching behind the door. I wonder if I’m just enjoying recounting my adventure.
We all agree, we’re in an odd position. We’re prisoners, his prisoners but actually we’re all in an unlocked basement just because we don’t know what’ll happen if we leave.
I’m sure, at the start. He HAD locked the door. I want to talk about the other girls, the bodies that have been found, but I can’t.
A lot is left unsaid.
Tribes
Legend has it that the world was created by The Great Eagle.
Local tribes argue constantly about how exactly it created the world. Often with spears.
Some tribes say it laid an egg, from which the world hatched.
Others say that molted feathers landed in the ground to become trees, its mighty wings flapping to become the wind.
But eagles don’t flap all that much, they soar.
The most popular belief is that The Great Eagle took a large smelly crap, and that’s the world.
Based on how things are going these days, I can see how that’s become popular.
Weekly Challenge #928 – Position
- Lisa (Audio coming later)
- Richard
- Serendipidy
- Tom
- Norval Joe
- Planet Z
LISA
A Chat
We talk seriously when we get back. I thought I’d smelled an open fire and I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I’d seen him watching behind the door. I wonder if I’m just enjoying recounting my adventure.
We all agree, we’re in an odd position. We’re prisoners, his prisoners but actually we’re all in an unlocked basement just because we don’t know what’ll happen if we leave.
I’m sure, at the start. He HAD locked the door. I want to talk about the other girls, the bodies that have been found, but I can’t.
A lot is left unsaid.
RICHARD
Seating plan
I always sit at the back of the plane.
Last row, aisle seat, no exceptions.
I think it’s the ideal position for surviving a crash.
Others disagree and tell me the seats next to the emergency exit are safer, better still, if they’re over the wing; but I disagree.
I prefer to have a solid bulkhead behind me, rather than bodies and debris flying through the air. And, let’s face it, if we’re going down, the tail is going to hit the ground last.
My employers disagree.
They think I should sit at the front… Like all the other pilots.
LIZZIE
The yacht was tired. The crew and the passengers were also tired. No radio signal.
The Captain looked at the First Officer. “Let’s rest here.”
Suddenly, something something “what’s your position?”.
“Captain, we need time to fix the hull.”
“We’ll stay here. Nice, tropical island. We’ll be fine.”
When the search party arrived, the locals snickered.
“Where are they? The yacht is right over there.”
The locals snickered some more.
No one was found.
However, there were some suspiciously fresh bones, hanging above the doors of the houses.
That’s when the search party decided to leave as quickly as possible!
TOM
By Grace Alone
When Timothy Cratchit graduated from Cambridge with honors in accounting, he was offered the position of junior partner by emeritus Chairman Scrooge. Along with his father CFO he became a strong supporter of the Abolitionist Movement in America. In 1878 he met Rev. John Parker and soon after set up an endowment in his adopted uncle’s name. There was a secret clause in the endowment as to the name of a future church. When Timothy died in 1890 he was buried in the graveyard of Ebenezer Baptist Church. On his marble stone is written the following: God bless us everyone.
Bleak Gadgets
John despite his creative output was a very convivial person. All the same his company produced Bleak Gadgets. Funeral parlors need products, John supplied them. The solar powered last words tombstone. The thermal lying In-wait body grid. Aurora Borealis Cremation Urns for Human Ashes Adult Female for Funeral, Burial or Home. Memorial Lantern Sympathy Gifts for Loss of Mom/Loved One Bereavement Gifts. Hydraulic Embalming Table High quality stainless steel, hydraulic foot pedals, locking wheels. The Viruserv VB Guardian electrostatic sprayer a workhorse that will help you disinfect your facility quickly, effectively, and with confidence The BioSeal Portable System fully contained
SERENDIPIDY
Put yourself in my position.
If I let you go, you’ll go straight to the cops, and I really can’t have that, can I?
So you may as well forget trying to persuade me otherwise, and focus instead on making things easier for yourself.
I may be callous and unfeeling, but I’m a reasonable person. Perhaps I can be persuaded to let you live?
And, if not, at least you can try to convince me that a quick, clean death is in everyone’s best interests.
If nothing else, you can say you gave it a shot.
Before I shoot you.
NORVAL JOE
From Billbert’s position above meadow he saw everything at once.
Sabrina lay with her leg off at an odd angle. Buhmilda knelt, bent over, clutching her stomach. The driver of the van swung his rifle upward and aimed at Billbert.
He flew toward town and punched 911 into his phone.
As soon as an operator answered, he shouted, “There’s an active shooter at Buhmilda’s meadow. Do you know where that is?”
“I do,” she replied.
Billbert said, “People have been shot. They need help. Send police and an ambulance.”
The operator scoffed. “Right. You’re probably just swatting the old lady.”
PLANET Z
There is nothing more dangerous than a dying animal.
What about two?
Lying in a pool of their blood.
Their teeth on each other’s throats.
Vultures circling overhead, scavengers surrounding the endless battle.
Waiting for their chance to pick apart the ragged corpses.
One after another, they creep forward and peck or sniff.
A growl sends them scuttering back.
None of them notice me set down my stool, unfold the easel, and begin to paint.
Brushstrokes of very fang, tooth, eye, and hair.
I finish, pack up my things, and walk away.
Who won? I don’t know.
Does it matter?
The medal ceremony
Those who were alive for it say the Olympic Stadium was the most magnificent sight in the world.
The lights, the athletes in their colors.
The music and sounds and cheers and the cannons roaring.
And the flags, so many flags from around the world.
The flag of the regime flew highest of all.
Over time, the athletes became soldiers. Then martyrs.
The stadium, a parade ground.
Then an execution ground.
Where I kneel now, our champion sprinter stood to receive his medal.
I hear the soldier cock his gun and feel the barrel against the back of my head.
The watermelon
I used to go to a summer camp.
Which was really just a community camp at a nearby grade school.
Swimming… field games… listening to old records.
Boring shit.
The end of the summer camp was a watermelon hunt, with clues all over the schoolgrounds.
Kids running from place to place, all ending up at the softball diamond or the flagpole.
Me, I didn’t give a crap, because I hated watermelon.
I’d shout out the dumbest and wrongest answers to the clues.
I ended up tied to the flagpole.
As long as I didn’t have to eat that rancid watermelon.
Cradle to grave
They say that life is what happens between cradle to grave.
But what happens when you put a baby in a cradle and drop it in a grave.
So, we set up an experiment.
We built a cradle, babysat a neighbor’s baby, and then put the baby in the cradle.
Then we dug a grave and tossed the cradle into the grave.
While the baby was still in it.
The results were as expected: the baby cried loudly.
Then, after a while, the baby stopped crying.
Thankfully, because it was asleep, not dead.
Or we wouldn’t get paid for babysitting.
The pebble
Shang-Li was dropped off at the temple when he was three, and was trained day and nights in the art of Shao-Lin by the monks.
“If you can snatch the pebble from my hand, it will be time to go,” said the master.
Shang-Li failed to snatch the pebble for years.
Longer than any other student.
In all that time, he mastered spears and hand-to-hand-combat and stealth and pretty much every other skill.
But snatching the pebble?
Nope.
Eventually, the master left his hand open, and Shang-Li was forced to take the pebble.
“It’s a stupid test anyway,” he said.
Kanye
During one of my recent walks, I saw a car plastered with multiple anti-Semitic messages that were in support of Kanye West’s rants.
Jews own 90% of the media.
Jews hate America.
Jews control the economy.
That sort of shit.
Since I was a child, I’ve known there’s sick and ignorant people in this world.
And there’s nothing you can do to fix them.
I haven’t seen it since.
Maybe they tore off the messages.
Maybe they were visiting a friend.
Maybe they got towed away for their expired registration, which I called the parking lot tow truck number about.
The taste of blood
I’m no stranger to the taste of blood in my mouth.
I had braces when I was a kid, metal ones.
With exposed wires.
My brother got wax to put over his braces to protect his cheeks and lips.
But I didn’t.
I had to take candles from the dining room cabinet and melt them down into protectors.
Which didn’t help much when my brother was punching me in the face.
Or telling his friends to.
When the braces came off, I wanted to melt them down into a knife.
And stab every one of those fuckers in the face.