(Reblog) What We Don’t See
Since my post today was lacking in depth, this means I get to reblog. Read it through if you want warm fuzzies.
Since my post today was lacking in depth, this means I get to reblog. Read it through if you want warm fuzzies.
I’m feeling irresponsible today, so here’s something super random which I have nothing in the world to do with, except it makes me happy.
In a sunset
Colors too vibrant for nature
Colors only possible in nature
Radiant sunlight slanted
Clouds catching sideways shafts
Brilliant port red, ember orange, incandescent yellow
All colors churned with fire.
Turn around and see
Indigo, cobweb blue, periwinkle, dusty rose
Cool colors fading fast, even they had heat.
The light moves to new horizons
And we are left walking away from the departing evening
Facing the arrival of winter’s night
Heralded by a solitary bird
And our footsteps in gravel.
I’m taking a snow day!
Pbltpbltpblt

Yess, I finally got my hands on one of these.
https://thehauntedwordsmith.wordpress.com/2018/09/03/finish-the-story-12-03-sept-2018/
Rules–
I want to see where Michael takes this one.
A Night at the Opera
Joshua planned the night perfectly. He bought her favorite flowers, picked the perfect bistro, arranged for her favorite book to be in the bookshop window, and purchased the best box at the opera nearly six months earlier. He waited for Lana to come home from work, take a shower, and start to relax. His plan was then set in motion.
“Why don’t we go out to eat tonight,” he suggested.
“Oh, that sounds lovely,” she said.
On their way out the door, Joshua reached into the refrigerator and whipped out the bouquet of flowers.
Lana squealed. “They’re lovely!” She kissed his cheek and wrapped herself around his arm.
The meal was perfect and she nearly flipped when she saw the book she loved on the way to the opera house.
Everything was going as planned. Everything until the opera. Instead of her favorite tenor as scheduled, Faust was played by…
… “Stone Cold” Steve Austin. It completely spoiled her expectations of the evening. The wrestler barreled around the stage, ungainly as a three legged pig. He nearly knocked part of the set over.
As he belted out the last broken note, unconsciously clotheslining a member of the chorus with one beefy arm, her temper burst. She just had to go complain.
“No, no, not again,” Joshua said. “Please, let’s go home.”
“I can’t enjoy my evening if I don’t settle out my confrontations,” she said snippily. “Let me do this.”
She joined the line to meet “Stone Cold.”
Joshua kept his hand in his pocket, sadly palming the small box hidden there. He had planned to give this to her after the show, but he knew her well, and what she had said was true. She needed to tell somebody off. If she came out on top, she would be in the finest possible mood and he could continue his plan without a hitch. However, if she lost face… he might have to re-plan this whole thing.
But the closer they got, the smaller his current dilemma got, and the bigger “Stone Cold” got. Joshua’s courage was wilting, but Lana simply held her head higher. At last their turn in line came.
“MISTER ‘Stone Cold’ Steve Austin,” Lana began huffily. “I have to something to say to you!”
“Stone Cold” took her hand in one of his ham fists. “Hello beautiful,” he said pleasantly.
Lana’s eyes bulged, and her face turned bright pink. Her opera glasses had not done him justice. Up close, his eyes were ocean deep, his bald pate such a compelling shape. She couldn’t remember what she was angry about. “W-would you like to join us for a late coffee?”