PhotoPrompt: 38.4

Along the Aure River in Switzerland

Elise roamed down the river path, looking carefully at each marker. 

38.1…38.2…  Reaching 38.4 was all that mattered to her.  He would be at 38.4 when the sun went behind the hills to the west. 

Lengthening shadows from ancient oaks told her that time was passing, just as the river current that flowed so close to the path.  Elise began to jog, peering through the dappled shadows to the next marker.

38.3!  Almost there!  Elise began to pant with the exertion.  Keep looking ahead!  He must be there!  After all these years, Franz is coming home to me!

Long war years had passed and now they both were old.  But, Franz had finally come home.

The pain in her chest struck her down before she knew it.  Dropping like a stone, Elise rolled into the swift river to be forever swept away.

Franz watched and waited, looking back and forth down the dark path.  When the sun had set and the moon was overhead, Franz sighed.   He headed up the path, using his cane as he went. 

Oh, Elise!  Why didn’t you come?  I have waited for decades for you.

Massacre in the Sock Drawer

Source

Life was great in the sock drawer.  They were one big happy family, freely visiting from the back to the front of the drawer.  Some socks had returned from vacations recently, and spoke glowingly of the glories of Fresno and Bakersfield, and other distant exotic destinations. 

Yes, cotton, spandex, wool, and nylon co-existed happily.  Polyester was merely tolerated. 

Then came the massacre, a purge that would traumatize the sock drawer for all time.  Not one sock that survived would ever forget that day when friends and family were divided, and some disappeared.

The damned IKEA product, Komplement #16635, was to blame.

Source

One morning the drawer was opened, pulled out, and dumped onto a bed.  Some of the socks had never seen the light of day and were stunned by the open sea of bedspread.  Socks were tossed left and right.  Some were knotted together without ceremony; others were thrown into the waiting jaws of Good Will bags.

Then the Komplement #16635 box was assembled and pushed snugly into the drawer. 

Such efficiency, such brutality!  In moments, all the mated socks were sorted into their boxes, and the drawer closed slowly.  Gone were the Veterans, the Christmas tree sock, and most of all, the sage and wise surgical sock with the chevron treads.

Only a quiet sob was heard and then there was silence.

Reference:   Christmas in the Sock Drawer

PhotoPrompt: A boy and his horse

From Delores @ Thefeatherednest

When Pa brought Ol’ Lightnin’ home, Wilbur threw on the saddle on its back, cinched it up, and leaped onto the horse.  Giddeeup! He had shouted, and the horse took off.

The first minutes of full-on galloping were beyond Wilbur’s expectations.  This is like flying!

In the next few minutes, Wilbur became concerned.  This isn’t what I expected.

Then he thought, Oh, dear Lord!  Make this horse stop!

Finally, when the horse had run around the pasture, it came to a full stop.  The incredible pain in his gonads had Wilbur frozen in agony.

Pa took a picture, chuckled, and walked away.