Prose Poem: This way…


Prose Poem

This way…

Grey autumn day. Rain falling, wind chilling grey autumn day.

Everyone seems to be rushing somewhere inside their car.  The children, make finger drawings on fogged up windows.

A man looks at me and seems to wonder what I might find interesting enough to photograph in the middle of the road.

‘She should photograph a monument, or the trees!’ he seems to be thinking.  He watches:  I’m obviously focusing on the ground.

Grey autumn day.  Rain falling, wind chilling grey autumn day.  I see an arrow painted on the road.  It indicates which way to go, under the autumn sky.

Day one: OctPoWriMo

FRIDAY FICTIONEERS: 27 September 2013

Copyright – Rich Voza

Copyright – Rich Voza

Friday Fictioneers

The Dream

Through a misty fog I walked; I came upon a clearing.  In the middle of the clearing I saw three doors, each a different color.  I saw each door stood alone, where might they lead?

I walk around each one.  I wondered:  could this be some strange display for a hardware store in the middle of a forest?

A voice began to recite: “Red is for passion, white is mourning, blue is cold winter’s death…”

Another said: “Red is for passion, white is for purity, blue is melancholy…”

I realized that my choice was between the Eastern and Western symbology!

Genre: Prose Poem
Word count: 100