Every little helps. Chris smiled as he emptied the groceries. He couldn’t agree more with the slogan.
He had started losing hope of ever completing his vision. Thanks to hunger pangs which led to an impromptu visit to the shop weeks ago, he had stumbled on the final piece for his project. Granted it had taken several visits to confirm a perfect match. There was no doubt about it, her lips were exactly like mothers’.
And soon they would fit the rest of her. Mother would live again. It was time to set things in motion.
Inspired by the art and decorative pieces in the picture.
The snipping sound of the scissor was lost in the background of celebratory jeers and claps.
For some it was the triumphant ending to a remarkable project.
For others it was the beginning of new adventure, the chance to start again.
And for some it was just another tick box exercise for the state. An effigy to dissuade a guilty and blood stained conscience from losing all it’s humanity. It was always the same, the politicians could never sustain their quick fixes to deep seated problems. Like a drug addict high on new fix, there was no doubt in their minds the building would fall into disarray a few years, when it’s shinning surface no longer impressed the media. When ghosts buried behind the walls rose to life again.
For Eloise it was already a little too late.
Her flesh was the foundation for all this hope. Her blood, the current surging through the light bulbs.
Alba would never understand a society that indulged it’s appetite voraciously, then plugged it’s rectum just as tight with asphalt. It never led to much.
The old build dubbed “iuventus seditio” Vesna’s altar, by the teenagers, had been torn down. In its’ place stood a new structure christened “youthful springs” by the adults who wanted a new life for all these teenagers who wandered lost through the street with nothing to do.
Thanks Rochelle for hosting the writing event Friday Fictioneers.
Quotes related to the story:
“There are two hundred million idiots manipulated by a million intelligent men.” PE
“Every positive value has its price in negative terms… the genius of Einstein leads to Hiroshima.” PP
“so I wait for you like a lonely house till you will see me again and live in me. Till then my windows ache.” PN
Broken: interrupted or discontinued (Merriam-Webster dictionary).
It was the first time the house was silent on a Friday night. She waited with baited breathe for it to change. It often started like a volcano sighted from a distance, silent but intimidating with the rapidness of approaching doom. Much like that tornado, the roar and chaos swiftly descended on the house, leaving no one untouched, no matter how hard they tried to hide. But not today. It was almost 1 AM and the only sound she could hear was the emptiness of nothing. As she drifted off to sleep, the smile on her face blossomed stronger under the gaze of a full moon. It was exactly one year after his burial, and so many Fridays after before she could let herself believe that the peace was here to stay. His death had interrupted the chaos that had become her life over the last eighteen years.
Broken: imperfectly spoken or written.
“Dada I wan i-cream with dorought and spikles.”
“What did you say, honey?”
“I said I wan i-cream, spikles and dorought.”
“You want dorought or doughnut?” he tickled her tummy.
She shrieked with glee “I wan dorought dada, dorought.”
“Oh just doughnut then?”
“Nooo ohhh! I wan i-cream too” she gaggled in laughter. “Dada you so silly”
He tickled her again even as she tried to escape his arms. He found her absolutely adorable, broken English and all.