Rapture

Still and immutable

Baptism of tumbling surf

Cradles stern granite

Into eternal Rapture

Star Child – Short Story

Fantasy, Science Fiction         Age: Teen/Adult

Star Child                                                                

Part One

By K Adam (aka Kenne)

“Shit…Shit… Shit!!!” wailed Mary, as the virgin white curtains quivered. She was petrified! Mary summoned the courage and looked down at her belly. Her stomach was gouged to the core, blood was profusely streaming down her legs and pooling on the floor, glistening and bubbling, generating a crackling sound. Mary sobbed deep sobs, her chest heaving, terrified that this repeating trauma would never end, delirious in her shallow sleep, unsure if it was real or imaginary. Then she woke up, peeled the sweat-soaked sheets away from her, and her husband Stanley hugged her and reassured her it was only another one of those dreams. Yet Mary was skeptical, she was frightened of falling back into a tormented sleep, so she went out on the porch and stared up at the stars. It was amazing she could discern anything on this winter night in Brooklyn, NY, on January 21, 2052. Maybe that was the Big Dipper? Anyhow, somehow the night sky seemed safer than her bed.

*

When she was a child, Mary had a repeating nightmare. In her dream, she was a little girl running through flower-filled fields at her grandparents’ farm in Maine when a meteor came crashing through the delicate, light blue sky and targeted her yet again, chasing her with a frightening fury. She believed in her dream the alien meteor was targeting her belly, and she cradled her belly like she had a precious cargo secret within her that the molten rock was trying to decimate. She had had these nightmares since she was three. In one version of the dream, the meteor actually hit her while she was running and crushed her body against a sheer granite rock cliff, she was pinned and immobile, and she was profusely bleeding from her belly button. Her ragged, raw skin hung out around her belly button and yellow light and blood were flowing out in a gush at the same rate. She was so confused and distraught. She woke up and complained of belly pain, but her parents checked her, and nothing was anatomically or medically wrong. By the time she was nine, the psychiatrist concluded she was delusional and recommended anti-psychotic medication, but her parents patently refused. The memories continued to haunt her into adult life, especially when she was by herself.

To be continued in next post… stay tuned!

Pandemic Spring Proclamations

Shackled tints

Petalled hints

Of past hopeful springs, alas

Memories of picnic blanket on verdant plush green grass; bright sunshine skin rush

Now muted, faded in a bulbous thundercloud

Four walls creeping into a pandemic scaredy-shroud

Blankets smothering

Numb-ed action

Let Divine Light illuminate deepest crooked doubt

Burn gasping fog

Unmask this tyranny of trajectories

Exposing a blissful breath; sun wrapped lung

As Hope permeates ice-hut diligence

Families reunite

Old friends sing the joys of old; playing by the chapel of faith whisperers

Children chattering cheerful meetings in the yard; virtual worlds shattering

Peace erupts through the masked hearts

And the virus is stilled, like a tiny bug squashed under the Herculean call of togetherness

And I are you and you are I – all is one and one is All

Trembling past crumbling to brave future

Light burst blood arteries

Ushers in new forecasts of faith; proclamations of the moment

Picnicking again by the hints and hues of Spring 2020 flowers, live, wild in the parks with our neighbours, frisbee filled flings, sharing sun and hugs

Delirious to join in a spring song fantasy.

A Heart-Prick-Pluck

In a Holy space where light resides

My pricking conscience does confide

Luminous Grace Divine

Oft defines, offers resolution lines

My thoughts and noticed signs

Fall out of Sight

A heart-prick-plight

Plucks who I am

Perceiving…

Receiving Grace; forgiveness-Divine

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Photo Credit: 好的決定帶來豐盛人生: 我們的良心 henryinzion.blogspot.com

Mystic Space of Unknowing

In a mystic space

of unknowing

unlearning all old habits

wisdom of spirit bear

courage and strength

in a place of unravelling

threads of the past

hitched thoughts to cast

out, leaving only present space

for bubbling brook currents of wakened awareness

to calm all ripples of past connection

Summer Flower Scorching

I loved her like a summer flower,

Delicate petals caressed; sweet scent scintillating

Earthy roots creeping into my soul, etching meaning

In the summer sun, her colours enriched my plain palette

We were One Soul

Then she crept away with her youthful grin

And left my heart, crisped vines in the sun

Sun-Lit Branches

Cupping vines cradle thrusting trunks

Shut-eye owl asleep in a limb

Sun-lit branches refracting; warmed branches

Cool lazy serpent river slinks behind

Roots reaching for the source

Snowbound, the forest dozes.

MOURNING AN ANGEL

Sierra lifted the page of her calendar. November – a picture of desert roses growing in an arid plain. She stroked the picture, and then checked the date. Tonight was exactly one month after Francine’s funeral. Sierra still had a constant throat-ache, she had been virtually voiceless since Francine’s death. Not strep throat the doctor said, not even running a fever. First sleepless nights in Sierra’s life, even after Jacques had spent the night massaging her tense neck. The dreams about Francine were intense: at first they were gentle fragments of childhood play, friendly goodbyes, loving return hellos. They would be playing jumprope with Mary and Posy in the yard; snowball fights in the winter. Always a white light she was, Francine was excarnating from her human body in Sierra’s dreams; evaporating into the cirrus clouds, observing her own body playing with her sisters below from her high perch above. It was horrifying for Sierra when Francine no longer came to play in her dreams, but instead Sierra became a witness. When she woke up in the morning soaked with sweat she hoped it had all been her imagination. Francine was thrown against a wall by an unseen force, bleeding, torn, thrown again and again. Sierra felt ripples of cold crawl up her arms and down her spine, her throat seized up; head pounding. When Francine’s broken body fell it was nothing but veins, strewn out in an anatomical pattern on the floor. She called Jacques who soothed her, insisted she was in trauma, asked her to consider counseling. Recently in Sierra’s dreams, Francine came as an angel blessing Sierra, Posy, and mother. She would raise her hand of light, and drops of light trickled down over the family melting bitterness and grudges.

“Am I going crazy?” Sierra wondered, as she gently awakened and sipped her water. The light dreams persisted. Sierra had been off work for a month now due to her constricted throat.

A few nights later Sierra had trouble sleeping. She read for awhile until she was sleepy. Later, Sierra dreamed about Posy and herself walking along a shiny golden path. Above them were steps to a bright golden castle which felt warm with light. Posy looked at Sierra in the dream and laughed. Posy darted ahead and leapt through the thick, wooden castle door to unknown treasures inside. As Sierra approached the wooden door, she felt a resistance coming from the door. When she reached the door, she rapped on it until her knuckles were sore. The warm golden light dimmed to jet black and Sierra awoke with a start, sweating.

Surprised at how real the dream felt,   Sierra carefully got out of bed and poured herself a glass of water in the kitchen. Finding the remote, Sierra flicked on the TV and watched her favorite sitcom, sipping her water gently.

Short prose – copyrighted

K Adam

Yellow Wildflowers in Dappled Light

Out of dappled shadows nigh
Yellow wildflowers bright knee-high

In a splash of summer colour delight
Doth the yellow friends ignite a smile on meandering child’s face, dappled in light

During lingering June days, night beaten back to a forgotten haze
Song birds court the feast of the approaching Solstice in melodic ambrosia

Tender Buds

Veiled buds hiding
Sensuous
Mother nature’s warm Spring breeze breathes life into opening buds
Dripping
Tender shoots and roots sprout, caressed by steady rain