lord’s prayer

My first writing for “the rattling bones,” a blog about writing, life, and journeys and much more. Each day is assigned a type of prompt. I found Lori, as I find so many. I followed a link from a post.

lord’s prayer


He knew the words to the Lord’s Prayer. He said them every morning and night.

“Deliver us from evil”

He slept safely every night. Awoke to new possibilities.

“Give us this day our daily bread”

He eyed up the line waiting for breakfast. No one he couldn’t break bread with.

“On earth as it is in Heaven”

He picked through the dumpsters. Dumpster diving the wannabes called it.

“Lead us not in to temptation”

All along his street were hookers, dealers, marks. He passed by with quickening heart.

“as we forgive those who trespass against us”

He didn’t mind the hassling. He wished they heard the Lord’s Prayer in their heads as he did.

“ For thine is the kingdom”

He knew his world well. He paced out each day from corner to corner”.

“And the power, and the glory for ever and ever”

He died in his sleep one night. His guardian angel made a pillow for his head.

“Our Father who art in Heaven”

He will be your guardian angel someday. He will shelter you with his wings.


the chapel

Priceless Joy hosts a weekly picture prompt, Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Inspired by the photo prompt, contributors write 100 to 150 word stories. When I first looked at flash fiction and stories as short as a hundred words, I thought I could never write so concisely. But to write big, you should start small. If I can tell a story in less than 150 words, perhaps then I can write a story of 150 pages. (I hope)

This is my contribution to fffaw, week of May 27:

the chapel

photograph: pricelessjoy

She had never seen a sky so blue. It hurt her eyes to look up into the heavens.

So, she watched the chapel. Waiting. Thinking. Could she do it?

Could she walk up those stairs, cross the threshold?

Could she sit in the confessional booth? Priest listening to meter due punishment.

She fingered her rosary – her mother’s rosary. The beads were polished by years of sweat and tears.

She stood. In measured paces, approached the chapel door. With a slight push, it opened.

Into this stain-glass world. Into this holy site. Into forgiveness. Into absolution.

“Forgive me father, for I have sinned. I helped my mother die with dignity.”

word count: 110