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Today's poem or short story prompt is "blood".
FIRST YEAR OF COLLEGE
ReplyDeleteIt was only years later, after the indicent had been forgotten and they were able to be honest with each other again, that he learned how it all started. The Cinnamon Ghost, as he'd called her all these years, had followed him around campus all day that first day of freshman year. She'd dropped and added classes until they both had the same schedule, then adjusted her lunch and dinner times so they were "eating together" every day. When he gave blood that first time, laying on the portable cots with a dozen other fresh-scrubbed, optimistic students, he noticed her standing in the doorway, watching intently. They dated for a while, broke up and dated others, then reconnected at a campus rally against a liberal author who was going to come and speak on campus, spreading his socialist propaganda like cancer spreading through an otherwise healthy body. It was the third week of their second semester, after the "Winter Holiday" break (the liberals wouldn't allow them to say "Christmas" anymore) that he found out she was a vampire. He realized that knowledge might be useful and didn't tell her he knew. He stopped asking why she was eating so little at dinner and why she always left the room whenever he got the tiniest scratch or cut. He nicknamed her the Cinnamon Ghost because of the powder he sometimes found dried on her clothes after she'd been out all night. He knew it wasn't cinnamon, but there was no reason to tell her that. Not yet, anyway.
Mike Fedel
July, 2013
Blood & Jesus
ReplyDeleteWhatever sin enslaves me
The blood of Jesus Christ
Can set me free
Whatever temptation has me bound
The blood of my Lord
Can untie the rope
Along the highway three white crosses
Follow me from Kentucky to Tennessee
Reminding me of the blood he shed
Along the road Calvary
Then there's the thorn crown
Then sadistic guards
Then jeering awful crowds
So much blood and violence In his story
For a peaceful man
A man who worked with wood and his hands
I don't want to believe he died for me
If I stood in the garden Gethsemane
I would have crossed God
To tell him it was so unnecessary
It will set a bad precedent
It remove the joy in the life you've led
It will bring a spring and summer of sadness
Continue a fall and winter of grief
I'd ask you all
Father Son Holy Spirit
To reconsider this end
To rewrite history
Would it be so tragic
Ruin everything
To have God die with a smile
Grateful to all those who loved Him
Catherine Powers
July 18, 2013
Copyright 2013