50 Word Stories – The Clams
Everyone had an opinion without knowing what they gave an opinion on. A cacophony of the uneducated, those with the loudest voices fought to be heard above others of their kind, the quieter majority engulfed. I thought them clam-like, mouths opening and closing under the sea, though clams seemed smarter.
“The worst feeling is the last one because the next will be the best I’ve ever had.”
“Death is a bore but describing it a writer’s delight. Good job really.”
The Ghost Writer
50 Word Stories – Unexpected
When that first snowdrop pushes through the earth, its white cap more delicate than a snowflake yet stronger than a storm, some might call it unexpected. Last night, a good man slipped the other way in search of bulbs within the earth; it was not unexpected.
Unexpected: an all-encompassing word.
We found there to be an unlimited amount of time and consideration put into their dilemma. The tribespeople talked amongst themselves in whatever language it was, shook their spears and shared some strange, green smoke emitting pipe. After two or three hours, they came to a decision: They ate us.
“Mornings are great for delaying afternoons.”
“It’s just something my da used to say.”
“Sounds like a wise man… not!”
“Wiser than you might think. He was a miner, my da. There were no mornings or afternoons down the pit. That’s why he said what he said. Mornings grow lighter, whilst afternoons only ever grow dark. Him and his mates never knew if they’d see the morning’s light again. The same each and every day. Makes you think.”
“Geez! And here’s you making candles for a living.”
“For da. Out of respect for him and his mates.”
“So those who fear the dark will always have a bit of morning with them.”
“Sometimes you’re deeper than I give you credit for.”
“Never as deep as them, John. Never as deep as them.”
The world is blue.
Although life can be defined by the colours in which we parade, the earth itself lies resplendent under an emerald green jacket. For most people, a copse of trees or lush meadow define the idyllic. But not all.
For some, those identifiable dreamers, blue is the colour they aspire to be it ultramarine sea or cerulean sky.
Blue will fold around us when the green dies away.
Blue will be there when needed until our dying day.
A rippling reassurance when troubled. A turbulent chastisement when persuasion fails. Our droplet of universe.
The world is blue.