Thursday, 23 June 2016

Ingratitude

There is no Mecca
At the end of my quest
From bed to unrest
I move
Through this urban jungle
Vigilant for errant
Beasts of metal and glass
Hungering for a resource we begin to lack
Crossing these lanes
A dangerous concrete terrain
As their masters
Are slaves
To a portable device
Connecting the entire world
To their careless
Ignorant
Fingertips
While their minds
Unfocused
Dominate the streets
Pedestrians, travellers
I move alongside them
Our daily shuffle
Amidst the hustle
On our pilgrimage for a paycheque
I take to my seat
Hot brew in hand
Wondering
How many laboured in fields
For my luxury
As they live in poverty
While I sit at my desk
In a field of technology
Knowing so much
And yet so little
Of real world dichotomy
There are millions of us
With a vacuous stare
Blind to true blight
Consumed with day to day life
Surviving one more day
Of lattes and beer
While others starve
And live in fear
The only religion is that of a dollar
Our messiahs and avatars would be ashamed
As our day ends
And we sleep,
To awaken
And repeat the cycle again

Hello everyone!

I wrote this piece for the flashfiction magazine, 200-Word Tuesdays. I selected June’s theme of “Pilgrimage.” This month I was actually one of the folks who suggested a theme. A poll was done and mine was one of the themes chosen.

I drew inspiration by thinking what kind of modern spiritual quests exist for first world people.
 Thanks and take care!

Larysia  

Wednesday, 8 June 2016

At God's Altar



          


His feet were caked with blood, each step more agonizing than the last. Sandals no more, his pilgrimage was now plagued with torn soles and split heels. Infection was spreading; he could smell rot amidst the copper. His skin burned, in part from the heat and in part from the fever. And he had run out of water. The thirst was maddening.
 
            But he could see the temple.

            Straining, he climbed the mountainside, praying under his breath until at last he saw the temple’s stone steps.

            He gasped.

            Blood trailed up to the stone building’s yawning mouth of an entrance.

            He followed it, crawling on his hands and knees.

            Once inside, he saw the priests. They were torn in half, their remains encircling the great altar. Where there should have been a stone idol, there was none.

            A growl. Talons wetly sliding through gore.

            He looked over his shoulder, seeing his god animate. Flesh, feather, and as hideous as impressive, it stood.

            “My divinity!” He croaked, prostrating himself.

            It kicked him over onto his back.

            “I journeyed for your salvation!” Tears welled up in his eyes. “I am happy to receive it.”

            The pain was greater than what he endured the entire quest, but the release into eternal hellfire was worse.
Hi again, all!

I did this piece  for the flashfiction magazine, 200-Word Tuesdays. I selected June’s theme of “Pilgrimage.” This month I was actually one of the folks who suggested a theme. A poll was done and mine was one of the themes chosen.

I drew inspiration from my usual fascination with religion, deities, and demons.
Thanks and take care!


Larysia