FGHart

I’d have told anyone who asked it was harmless. The ads and posters touting the dangers had nothing to do with me. I was fifteen.

From my first drag I was addicted. A pack of cigarettes cost less than a dollar. Smoking bans were barely a twinkle in some legislator’s eye. I sat in a restaurant and drew in the poison. I exhaled slowly, watching the smoke rise, loving the new me. On that day I became a smoker.

Forty years later I sit in the stink, stains and ashes that cover my life, wishing I’d heeded the warnings.

This is a response to the 100 word challenge put forth by Velvet Verbosity.

When I arrived at the scene no one seemed interested in checking my credentials so I kept my wallet in the pocket of my coat.

As more officers, the coroner and the detective in charge arrived they focused on the corpse; no one gave me a second glance. I remained in the background, observing and considering my options. My only lead, now a dead end, pale and still against a colorful palette of fallen leaves.

The body, daylight and my last hope disappeared about the same time. I humbly approached the detective seeking pity and a possible clue.

This is a response to the 100 word challenge put forth by Velvet Verbosity.

Mary waited patiently while her friend’s sobs subsided. She patted her back and rubbed her shoulders, making soothing noises and saying things like “there, there.” After a while, Sue’s breathing slowed, with only the occasional hiccup breaking through as she regained her composure.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Sue said. “How can I go on?”

“Don’t worry, honey. You’ll be fine. No matter what anyone else tells you, you can take it from me. You know I’ve got the credentials: three attorneys and seven ex-husbands. There most certainly is life after divorce.”

This is a response to the 100 word challenge put forth by Velvet Verbosity.

Margaret sits in the waiting room, alone with her thoughts. The events of this morning, looping in her mind like a tragic news clip, solely hers to witness.

“Mama! I’m imbisible!”

With less than a second’s consideration she’d responded, “You mean ‘invincible’.”

“Yeah!” said her son, her precious dare-devil, only child, wearing last Halloween’s superman costume, now too small, with torn elbows and shredded knees. “I’m IN-VINCIBLE!” pronounced so carefully.

With a shout he was off again. She was grateful for the opportunity to focus on her work.

Now, guilt infuses her waiting. Five year olds are not invincible.

This 100 word challenge post.

Rodie takes a deep breath, steeling himself for the climb. One foot after the other, one rung at a time, he ascends. At the top he steps forward. A skinny boy in bright trunks, he moves cautiously between rails. Past the rails, he takes five steps to the board’s end. He draws another deep breath, looking down….

Today Rodie stands in a cold room, recalling the day he stood 3 meters above the community pool and conquered fear that stabbed through him like a knife. He turns to the seven men sitting before him, breathes deeply and smiles.

This was *intended* to be a submission to Velvet Verbosity’s 100 Word challenge for this week but I appear to be off-cadence. Alas. Maybe next time.