Six Word Stories (2)

My second small collection of six word stories.

Sometimes I search for a photo to match the words rolling around in my head. Sometimes I see a picture first, and it speaks to me.

I am trying to teach myself to find words and emotions in places picture that do not always naturally speak to me.

What about you? Do you find words popping up as you look at these images? I would love to know what they are. Let me know by leaving a moment.

©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020

Photose sourced from unsplash.com

Searching

Infinite scroll
while you’re searching.
To fill the black hole
you’re searching.
She gave you a like
in friends, there’s a spike.
You’re searching.

“Time to have lunch?”
“No, I’m searching.”
“In a time crunch?”
“Ya, I’m searching.”
Not sure how to stop,
on comments eavesdrop,
while you’re searching.

Are you numb to the loss
while you’re searching?
It comes with a cost,
all this searching.
The people out there
could never compare
to the ones who still wait,
while you’re searching…

©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020

Six Word Stories (1)

I find briefness powerful, yet elusive. In the last few weeks, I have taken to trying to cultivate it in my own work by writing six word stories.

It’s an exercise I am enjoying.

Do you write six word stories? Or some other kind if micro fiction?

What form of short prose do you find most impactful? I would love to know the answers to these questions, and what you think of the three I share with you today.

©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020

Photos sourced from unsplash.com

Mud River Monster

I have been finding it difficult to write this week. So I will share a blast from the past with you this morning. I wrote Mud River Monster in either 2009 or 2010, my notes are sketchy on the date I finished. It’s the first piece of any length I completed. Though I have been writing since I was fourteen, I have always had dreams of finishing large projects that never quite work. It was a blessing to be able to look back and see how much I have grown in the last 2 years since taking my writing more seriously. I hope you enjoy the fun read. (I grew up in a family with 8 children and my early inspiration is pulled from those memories.)

Mud River Monster

Jay was Lord.
Nea was Queen.
Over the bank of
Mud River they leaned.


Nea had her staff
Jay had his bow
but little May cried,
“I don’t want to go!”


She sat in the grass
jeans stained green
thinking her brother
and sister QUITE mean.


“But we can not beat him here!”
They said again, and again,
Then through the sparse leaves
HE began to descend.


A grey gunny sack was
thrown over his large head,
and eyes darted wildly as
he passed the flowerbed.


As he stepped off the deck
May jumped up with a shriek,
and cleared the Mud River
in one quick, desperate leap.


Jay and Nea now
hot on her tail
splashed through the water
their faces ghostly pale.


Then he began howling as
he raced through the garden,
and the children knew he
would give them no pardon.


They reached the tree line
on the opposite shore,
but he gained ground while through
some piled leaves he tore.

As he charged the mud river
Jay turned to ready his bow,
Eyes shining brightly as he
prepared to meet his foe.


Nea stood behind Jay
her staff held so tight.
May hid behind a tree
overcome by the sight.


Jay loosed an arrow;
it flew straight through the air
to land in the muck,
missing by a hair!


While the monster’s great boots
splashed onto the shore
Jay and Nea hurried
to retreat once more.


They grabbed little May’s hand
as they passed by her tree,
but in one step she tripped
and grazed her tender knee.

Her small tears sounded
so loud through the air,
while up puffed the monster;
OH it was so…SO unfair!


Nea knelt down, took
May in her arms,
then turned her back
to shield her from harm.


But as Jay fumbled
to reload his bow
the monster’s advance
had begun to slow.


He huffed a great sigh,
and sat with a loud thump,
on the cool moist dirt
before the tree clump.


“I’m tired and hungry.
Is it dinner time yet?
Oh little May I would
never hurt you, don’t fret.”


At the sound of his voice
Jay’s bow just vanished,
Nea’s staff became a stick
May’s tears were banished.


The grey gunny sack he
now pulled off his head,
and in that moment, Jay’s
cheeks turned a bright red.


“The game can’t be over
until the monster’s dead!”
Jay exclaimed as
reality spread.


The monster shrunk
right before their eyes,
to their own brother Jo,
no longer in disguise.


His pants were muddy,
his hair stuck on end,
with a runny nose
to sum up the trend.


“My boots are full of water,
my socks go squish when I walk.
I think it’s about time
we started a peace talk.”


Jo looked up at Jay
Jay then looked to Nae;
they weren’t quite sure
now what they should say.


“I guess the monster
doesn’t have to die.
We could always say he
turned in to an ally.


Oh, he was just chasing us
to warn of an Evil King…
Who wants Nea for,
his brand new queen!”


“Then we better run home.”
Nea jumped to her feet.
“I KNOW I won’t marry HIM.”
And she led the retreat.


Back down to Mud River
just a ditch and a stream,
and up through the garden.
They made quite a good team.


For on the way home they
had to battle a bear
that once soundly defeated
turned into a lawn chair.


Little May sighed as
they reached the front door.
“I DO like Jo better this way,
always running is such a bore.”


So the four went inside
where was spread.
They ate like Kings,
and that’s all to be said.

©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020

Winter’s Whisper

Winter whispers, “I’m coming home.”

Crystals crackling cold
creeping across moist surfaces.

Winter whispers, “I’m almost there.”

Withering winds whip
wondering leaves to turmoil.

Winter whispers, “I won’t be long.”

Lingering lullabies lilt
longingly as wings fly south.

Winter whispers, “wait for me.”

Expectant eyes enamoured
by elegance watch, white flakes fall.

As Winter comes to call.

©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020

Starving Overtime

I miss friendships, caress
the playfulness of nudge.
Without my heart is lonely,
dailyness a dragging trudge.

I miss compassions touch,
cupped in empathy.
The knowledge only passed
in arms of sympathy.

I communicate my love
with handshake, hug, and kiss.
When it’s withheld,
I feel myself dismissed.

Even though I know
right now is not the time.
I fear for every heart,
starving, overtime.

©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020

Floating Silhouette

Original painting by Mary Grace van der Kroef.

Silhouette upon the waves,
floating over unknown graves.

Ever on towards the light,
yet ever shrouded in the night.

Hear the sound as ripples pass
as the wind propels its mass.

There the ship of constant dreams
journeys on through all extremes.

No port to find, no home to hail.
Forever doomed to onward sail.

Glimpse the Captain where he stands,
points ahead with outstretched hands.

Dreams aglow within his face,
of loneliness there is no trace.

A hero or a madman? Both.
Holding on to dreamers oath.

Passing towns and shipping lanes.
Care for them? None remains.

Busy chasing swirling thoughts,
lost in future plans and plots.

If only he would look this way,
see my wave, remember day.

But ever focused on he goes.
When will he end? No one knows.

© Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020