* What I mean is expect haiku and other short stuff. Maybe even the occasional novel excerpt.
Welcome to Week Nine of Three Line Tales.
You’ll find full guidelines on the TLT page – here’s the tl;dr:
I soak up the tears so your pillow won’t get wet. Every night you say you won’t fall asleep; you always do. Because I’m here to restore some of the comfort the muffled voices drifting up from downstairs have taken from you.
I don’t understand the words. I don’t need to. I know they make you scared and my job is to make you feel safe and secure. The louder they shout, the more you need me.
You rescued me when they wanted to throw me out. I may look old and threadbare, but you know what I’m capable of.
He got the eyes wrong.
They are gentle creatures, cows – they were rightly chosen as vessels to convey the message of peace. He won the bid to paint them with his flower and heart-shaped leaf design.
It’s a good design: bold colours, strong symbols. It works, it emphasises the message. If it weren’t for the eyes, it’d be a triumph.
Instead of a gentle, peaceful expression, the cows’ eyes burn with hostility. He got so engrossed in the colourful depiction of love, he made a glaring mistake with their eyes – undoing the message.
And he only notices as they’re unveiled.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t know how to do this.’
‘Course you don’t. You’re not supposed to, that’s your whole USP – from what I’ve heard.’
‘Unique selling point. No ties to family and friends, no emotions – the perfect soldier who’ll do anything for a mission to succeed because she has nothing to live for.’
‘I don’t want to die.’
‘Well, they messed that up, then. And you’ve something – someone to live for now.’
‘I still don’t know if I can do it, Olli.’
‘I believe in you.’
‘I have no idea how relationships work.’
‘Nobody does. We’ll figure it out.’
Check out Nortina’s Moral Mondays challenge and write your own 100-word fable – it’s fun.
Is he watching
over me or secretly
plotting to kill me?
from where we’re at
the edge of reason seems
I’ve been a bad host this week – my apologies. The round-up is a bit ramshackle, as well (tbh, I’ve no idea where the last few days went…) and I’m still playing catch-up reading all your lines.
See you next week when everything will be back to normal, I hope.
Befriending Amy has become easier since they’ve started running by the canal.
‘Things keep getting crazier. Funding cuts, homegrown terrorists, …’
Amy pauses. Gwen has an idea what’s next. For someone who’s fearless, she feels unexpectedly tense.
‘And now we have a vigilante. Heard about her?’
Is it a trick question?
‘How do you know she’s a woman?’
‘Something a low-lives she stopped said.’
‘Is she a big problem?’
‘She’s helping, actually. Don’t tell anyone I said that. The official line is to condemn her actions.’
Gwen smiles. It’s too early yet, but when the time comes, Amy’ll pick her side.
She recognises neither the place nor the time. The machine’s display, after emitting a blinding light, has gone black; she hopes this is where she meant to go.
There’s a knock. She unlatches the window and finds herself surrounded by crude petroleum-fuelled vehicles. Rightish time, it seems. But these people speak a language that doesn’t sound like any of the hundreds she’s learnt. She makes what she believes to be the universally understood sign for ‘I don’t understand’; they shrug.
Before she can stop them from destroying the planet, she’ll have to figure out a way to communicate with them.
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