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Literature
Escaping with style
There were no blaring sirens or flashing lights as I dashed down the corridors, but there might as well have been. Data streaming across one side of my goggles told me that I had successfully triggered the alarm when I took the hard drive stack. I knew I had four and a half minutes until the security forces arrived. When I reached the security door I was already sending signals to my devices connected into the system. A crude video relay looped images of the empty corridor into the security camera feeds. The data mining box cut the stream of keyword-laden signals with which it had been scattering the building system’s attention. Grinning at my own ingenuity, I hit the unlock button. How many other thieves would have got in by manipulating the mood of a building’s computer systems? But then, how many other thieves understood the emergent emotional states of high end electronics? This was why I'd been hired. The door failed to hiss open. Frowning, I slapped the button again. Still
Literature
sweaterse
when you've a love
in repose,
all quiets
are woven together.
all worries and
worships and
weathering
kept, cared,
covered.
every summer
warms, every winter
draws closer.
and the silences
sweeter than
heaven.
Literature
A Return
Her hands descend
deep into old pockets,
casting back darkness
from forlorn talismans.
She returns! Always
a surprise inside to witness
her divine whorls reappearing,
her heartbeat, the drum therein, the light!
A judgement and resurrection,
scrolls, bones and veils rattled up
called forward from some grave.
Coins cross eyes and old life breathes new.
This springtime mantle. Oh, yes!
Reclamation! Her former self lifts
those bright, timeless charms
that were and are and will again to be.
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Written for #SixWordStories.
I was a little unsure about posting this but *GuinevereToGwen encouraged me to. I was hesitant partly because I've already recently written a SWS about physical abuse, but mainly because this is essentially a rewritten form of *GuinevereToGwen's story A Babysitter Follows the Kid's Instructions. This is my choice of vocabulary and phrasing but the story and ideas belong to her.
Anyway, at the very least I thought it might be interesting to be able to compare and contrast how two different authors have approached the same story ^^
© 2013 - 2024 SCFrankles
Comments23
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A couple months ago, my friend's six-year-old son saw his aunt painting her toenails and got her to paint his, too. The next day, I got a panicked phone call from my friend, asking for help explaining to her son that being gay is okay, but your classmates bullying you by calling you it is not.
I like the terse-ness of this one. It reads almost like a poem.