50 Word Stories: One

She locked her case but not the door, closed her purse but not the gate. She walked from her street but not from her pain; it would take many more miles. Yet, each step, each new foot of concrete, soil and grass brought her story closer to one outcome: hers.

Freedom

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I saw it in a map, one without borders, walls, or rules. Escape was the name my family gave it, a thing we’d only dreamt of, the wind in our faces without ever looking back, the sun without windows and sky without ceilings, hope. Although our lives were rubble and ruin, they’d never taken that hope form us. One had to hope even when one had no hope to hope for. And then that map dug from the sand by my very own fingers. My map. Our map. My family called it escape. I called it freedom.

50 Word Stories: Disconnected

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If you climb, push yourself to the limits of endurance and beyond, you come to a place where realms meet. There, where fog, cloud, sky and earth conjoin, twist and falter, there’s room to let go. None-judgemental, it’s a zone for the disconnected. I’m disconnected, and I no longer care.

50 Word Stories: Freedom’s Fires

It was a momentary thing, nothing more. The lady, possibly middle aged, probably less, slipped from her gate and hurried up the road, suitcase in hand. I saw her eyes for an instant burning like fires against bruised skin. It was freedom, I thought. She’d done it. Good for her.

This Man

Little bird upon a branch
did look to me all askance,
as to wondering what I was,
I couldn’t answer, just because.
In tiny eyes it was indeed
this man, this soul, that he did see,
But as reflection in a lake
disturbed I stood, my heart did break.
A place, the bird, did have in world
whereas this man seemed simply hurled.
And swap his place, this man, he would
but bird did fly before he could.
There is no moral to this tale
no point, no wish, no holy grail,
although perhaps this man would say
if arms were wings he’d fly away.