The Gilded Gate…

The Gilded Gate…

Thunder bellows from the sky, descending to valley floor,

it roused me from a deep sleep; the one lying beside me

does not move they do not wake. It quickly becomes darker,

the profound sounds hold angrily above the valley bounces

off the forest, trees sways in the wind. Without warning,

the winds spiral upward into the thunder and lightning.

The valley was like a ringed abyss.

 

The wind continued like torment and blaspheming.
A sadness began to settle in, is this the outer certainty

of hell? I questioned my faith, would my lover and I

die within this doomed place, God please hear my

pleading. I cried. Did I fall asleep, did I fall into a restless

dream, and then an obedient voice was heard. Within this

dream. I witnessed countless people, their hopelessness

as they walked slowly through a gate.

 

The dream continued on, leaving me bewildered in my darkest

deepest sleep. Before me rose a widening light, it filled half

of the darkness, “Who Master are those that walk through the

gilded gate”.  My master smiles at me, it was then that the gate

opens to me wide green lawns stretched as far as the eyes could see.

Then marvelous spirits approached. I moved quickly trying to walk

into the moving light.

 

I woke and the darkness fell around me, the wind had left the valley,

I would live for another day.

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The Passing of Time

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The Passing of Time

My body aches, after years of “beating it up”.  I give in to the grace of gravity.  I do not live these days in wonder or fear.  Yet, a baby’s breath can take mine away and these troublesome times can instill fear in me for the future of this wonderful world.  My spine tingles in the presence of a gentle man both young and old.  I know that the passing of time is like a cool wind on a hot summer’s day, I no longer count the hours or days.  The thought of a new love still makes my heart soar.  It is the precious moments that I allow to linger. 

©2017.annjohnsonmurphree

 

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[This writing is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.]

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Elizabeth Ann Johnson-Murphree

 

Jamie’s Spirit – A 100 Word Story

 

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Jamie’s Spirit

Jamie roamed the streets flashing her body at slow moving cars.  She is hungry as are the other woman and men who walks these streets; some are children of mothers and fathers who pray for their safety and their souls.  There are winners and losers on these streets; the winners give a piece of their spirit.  The losers that could not pay sometimes take what they want without remorse.  Jamie decided to call her parents, her father answered; screamed “harlot” into the phone and hung up.  His only child’s crying will end tonight with a ride in an undertaker’s hearse.   

 

 

2016.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

Author’s Note:  Dear followers I know that my posting are few during these past weeks, however I am fighting an illness and hope to be back to writing on a regular basis as soon as possible; thank you for your patience.  Elizabeth Ann

 

 

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Honey Wine – A 100 Word Story

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Honey Wine

Serena knew that beauty had an ending, that all things fade and die she was in the winter of her years.  All her friends were gone as was much of her family, some forgotten like goldenrods falling to dust upon the wind.  Her eyes yearned, her heart bled for love, she kept repeating the words…

“Old, old, old.”

The clouds of time have spun away like fall she now waited for the last leaf to drop.  All that was left was the sweet memories like Honey wine.  Please she whispered let it go quickly…

“I am so tired of time”.

 

 

2016.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

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Choices – A 100 Word Story

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Choices

A roar of thunder melds with a coming storm, Tom Thornton’s heart is stone; he knows that because he feels nothing.  His wife’s veins once flowed with a passionate fire; now the crimson liquid spread across the floor.  Doors locked, a decision had to be made and quickly.  His life also ended when he would not let Sarah leave.  His heart will never soften; he will never feel the heat of Sarah’s fire again.  The police and ambulance sirens filter into the house.  He sat on the bed asking, “God, will I go to Heaven if I choose to die”?

 

 

©2016.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

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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

 

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#9391…A 100 Word Story

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#9391

It was July 1915 and Annabelle stared out the window.  Beyond the bars lay the tombstones covered with dead leaves and vine, each inscribes with nothing but a number; the records might have given the names of those beneath the red southern soil.

She knew that there were no tomorrows.  A marriage of happiness ended with a disobedient act against her husband.  It was his right to put her in an asylum for the insane and the disobedient.  Yesterday’s promises were over; the “Consumption” as they called it would soon take her life.  The small 12X12 stone would read “#9391”.

 

©2016.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

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