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Unyielding Heart – A 100 Word Story

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Unyielding Heart

Amy Dumont woke begging the world to stop; today her memories did not fill the emptiness left in an unyielding heart.  Her plan was to seal shut the door on life, quietly fade away.  She asks herself how others survive.  At times, she knew that her soul peaked over her walled up heart wanting to escape or be found.  She walked up to the grassy mound laying upon it a single yellow rose, softly she touched the headstone tracing the words Andrew Dumont; then looking to the sky she watched clouds part and said to herself  “Be patient doubtful heart”.

 

©2016.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

 

Amazon.com

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Posted by on July 10, 2016 in 100 Word Short Stories, Death, Depression, Life, Love, Memories, Prose, Short Story, Writing

 

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Books at Amazon.com

Coffee Table Books – 8 X 11

https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_1_11?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=ann+johnson-murphree&sprefix=ann+johnson%2Caps%2C201

 

On a Blue Bird Day

It is spring, warm breezes float through magnolia trees.  A gracious woman of the South rises from past memories; her thoughts behind the ice blue eyes. She sits on the bank of a pebbly brook under a Blue Bird sky, the scent of lilac rises from her starched dress.  She dips her fingers slowly into the cool water; she is old and life has passed her by, and the depths of her truth never known.  In her secret place of selfishness her hate for an unwanted child; she stops to ponder her own question; does she deserve the name “Mother”.

 

©2016.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

 

 

 

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Ann Johnson-Murphree at Amazon.com

BOOK SALE

June 12 – July 12, 2016

Six Poetry Books Available :

All  – $5.50

https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_1_11?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=ann+johnson-murphree&sprefix=ann+johnson%2Caps%2C213

 

Coffee Table Art:  $10.00

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Willa – A 100 Word Story

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Willa

Morning, sunbeams seeping through the windowpane like frost from winters frozen ground.    The breeze bathes Willa Sandusky with the scent of lilacs that are growing lavishly; a plum dusk sky lingers in the west.    Combing her snow-white hair, she takes the well-worn path down the hillside toward the sea.   Again, at dusk, Willa washed the dried sand from her feet, climbed in bed beneath old quilts and closed her eyes.  She knew the time had come, her soul left its earthly body and floated over silver sands and emerald seas; one-hundred year old Willa knew that she was going home.

 

 

©2016.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

 

 

https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_1_11?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=ann+johnson-murphree&sprefix=ann+johnson%2Caps%2C213

 

 

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Salty Water – A 100 Word Story

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Salty Water

Jenny’s and Jim’s hearts felt ripped from their chest as their baby, their only child lay unmoving; a blue tint already replacing soft pink skin still covered with sand from the beach.   Why were they not watching her? When the ambulance drove away, they ran to their car driving away from the tiny blue and white cottage by the Gulf. As their car went through the guardrails, they held each other tightly and smiled while the cool salty water flowed through broken windows. Both called out in the darkness; “Sandy we’re coming”. The single headstone read, “HERE LIES THREE HEARTS”.

 

©2016.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree  thBPHSKA15

 

 

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Trankil Death – A 100 Word Story

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Trankil Death

At dawn, Ruby Waters life light went out, in the dark her children cried; a candle glowed against the rustic rough boards of the shanty shadowing the souls left behind.  Laid to rest quickly in the Louisiana heat; the moon cast a glow on her shallow grave.  The children’s tears burn hot upon their dirt-streaked faces as relatives who heard the shots took them away.  Drunken Gat Waters had shot his emancipated wife because she was pregnant again then yelled, “Now dat’ are two less mouths to feed”.  They were swamp folk no one outside Bayou Gauche would ever know.

 

 

©2016.trankildeath.annjohnsonmurphree
NOTE: Visit author’s book page or ann Johnson-murphree at Amazon.com

 

 

 

 

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Rubble of Yesterday

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Rubble of Yesterday

Promises of the mind set aside in the days of youth;

visions stored in a hopeful place to become dim

memories and fade away.  A glimpse into the window

of twilight time lays the tombstones of yesterday’s

promises; rubble covered with reminiscent vine.

 

Embers burn within the soul no peace can one find;

there are fewer tomorrows, weep for the uncertainty

of the future and of dreams left behind.  If you could

turn back time would you trust your heart to relive your

life, accepting the future whatever it may be, would you

disregard truth and trust what your eyes see?

 

Yesterday’s promises are hidden dreams, try to find new

excitement in your life, rid yourself of turmoil and strife.

Awake your consciousness, your journey is not yet over,

there are new mountains to climb, forget the rubble of

yesterday, use wisely your time.

 

©2016.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

 

 

thBPHSKA15“Life is short, live it. Love is rare, grab it. Anger is bad, dump it. Fear is awful, face it. Memories are sweet, cherish it.”

 

 

Click on author’s book page to view poetry and art books at Amazon.com

 

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