Longitude and Latitude

Another bit of Sunday fun from Sunday Photo Fictioner. I think my entry falls under “prosetry” written through stream of consciousness.

So for Sunday, July 5, here goes, a barely edited piece of flash:

The Waterfront in Cumbria, along with exact locationThe spot. The actual spot.

Where you got lost. Quadrants stamped in my memory. Longitude and latitude so clearly marked. You know geography.

You should find your way home. Instead, I look for you.

Search under rocks, behind statuary, inside sidewalk cracks. You’ve been spirited away.

Press ganged. Stolen. Kidnapped. “Disappeared.”

Amnesia. Psychosis. Avoidance. Misery.

No e-cards. No email. No face book chatter. No selfie. No self.

I seek your hand to bring you home.

I visit the place where the geographer dropped his compass.

Where the worm hole starts. Where the parallel universes meet.

Where your mind starts fading into a shimmering specter.

When you realize why you are here.

You haunt the place of your dying.

Before the midnight bell is wrung. {124 confused words in search of an author.}


9 thoughts on “Longitude and Latitude

  1. DELL CLOVER July 6, 2015 / 4:23 am

    It is great and fascinating–but I got very sad in it.


    • phylor July 6, 2015 / 5:14 am

      Thanks. I hope you cheered up.
      It’s not one of my “happy ending” pieces. But then, I don’t write too many of them. ;)

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Francesca Smith July 5, 2015 / 10:49 pm

    Very fascinating and a great take


    • phylor July 6, 2015 / 5:12 am

      Thanks, Francesca. I’m behind in my reading other stories. I look forward to yours.

      Liked by 1 person

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