MC's Whispers

Whispering Silences

Archive for the tag “photo prompt”

Unplug yourself

©Dale Rogerson

“You know, almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few moments. Including you”. He squeezed her hand, as she looked at him and smiled.

He was the person who could see right through her even without her saying a single word about how she felt or the hurricane of thoughts in her mind.

She loved that about him. He knew exactly what to do and where to take her to unwind. To simply forget about everything for a while.

Like to this fun-filled colourful exhibition.

“Life is wonderful if you’re willing to experience it”, he added.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

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The box office event

©Ted Strutz

She had been waiting for the show for weeks. It set a box office record wherever it performed. She had told him and he had excitedly agreed to go. After all, he couldn’t refuse something that got her so happy that she couldn’t stop blabbing while bouncing around happily.

A few days earlier, she awoke by a nightmare. He consoled her, wrapping her in his arms until she fell back asleep.

But then, a peculiar thing happened. Her fear had diffused into him. Unjustifiably and inexplicably.

It was when they were already seated that it happened. And it was life-changing.

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The hustle and bustle of sincerity

©Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Sit there and wait. Observe. That hustle and bustle that is so characteristic of airports. That feeling of restlessness, anticipation and anguish. Imagine the stories, of where others are coming from and heading to. And the knowing that you too will soon be at some other part of the world.

But more than anything, realise that airports see the most sincere feelings: people reunited, running into each other at high speed, kissing and crying, recounting stories the mouth can’t tell fast enough, eyes that are struggling to take in all the charge, the hugging, and the end of missing someone.

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The place we call home

©Ceayr

Home is where you feel safe.

It is the place where no matter how broken you are, you feel whole. As if all the pieces come together and are mended, even if only for a while.

It is the people who lift you up when you fall. Who are there to catch you when your wings are too soar to fly.

It is the love you receive from those who can hear your silence, who can feel your heart, even when you don’t say a word.

Home is something beyond a simple place.

It is an extension of your soul.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

A radical flee

©Susan Eames

He just got up one morning and left.

It’s not something you usually do without intensive planning or careful thought. But sometimes it’s what you need.

It’s when you disappear or something serious happens that you realise the true nature of the people around you, who cares for you and who are worthy of being a part of your life.

Ivan was so fed up with the futility and hypocrisy of his surroundings, he had to act radically.

Then the phone rang.

Where are you?” the female voice sounded concerned.

On a tree, gazing at the ocean,” he replied serene.

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Swimming counter-current

©Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

He entered the swimming pool area a couple of hours ahead of the competition and the other contestants.

There was a strange tranquillity in the still waters and the silence. Everything was ready, preparing for a festival, excitement, cheering and action.

But, he remained calm. His breathing rhythm had not increased a single beat. As if he didn’t care.

It was the biggest race of his life so far, yet he remained motionless, unaffected by it all. The only thing he could not shake off was that something wrong was about to happen.

He later wished he had been wrong.

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The image of hurt

©Jean L. Hays

“What would you like to talk about today?” The therapist took his notebook and a pen and sunk himself into the purple velvet chair opposite.

“Pain,” he replied immediately.

The therapist looked straight at him. Sorrow was reflecting out of his patient’s eyes. You could see he was hurt, there was something not right inside him. Disappointment that had become sadness, anger that had converted into bitterness; it was all evident in his posture and expression.

“Show me what you think it looks like,” he said, proposing a few photographs.

The patient pointed to one of a barren, anhydrous land.

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The secret of old buildings

©Roger Bultot

Come, I want to show you something!” She grabbed his hand and rushed ahead full of excitement pulling him like a puppy out on a walk.

Old buildings always hide a very interesting history. And this one is no exception”.

He looked at the large, brick-laden building that stood imposing in front of him. You probably wouldn’t even notice it had it not been for the huge glass windows that caught your eye.

If we don’t care about our past, we cannot hope for the future,” she said. “It doesn’t look like much, but it has definitely shaped this town”.

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Sneaky Perils

©Sandra Crook

Sometimes a danger creeps up on you out of nowhere. You don’t see it coming. You don’t even hear it. But it’s there sneaking its way into your life, preparing to harm you.

If you don’t act, you won’t survive.

Be grateful for that small thing that revealed the peril. You can now fight it on your terms.

Breathe. Be thankful for each new day that comes. We fill our lives with too much anguish and only appreciate it when it is hurt.

Listen to that ebb and flow of the waves and be certain that this too shall pass.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

Suspicious clues

©Dale Rogerson

There were three clues that raised Mrs Harris’ suspicions that night. Firstly, the whole town was snowed-in for two days. That would have been almost “normal” had it not been the middle of April. Then, when the snowplow finally passed through, it was accompanied by the police, firemen and an ambulance. They all had their sirens off.

In fact, the entire town was plunged into silence that night.

The third thing that was out-of-place was a black garbage bag, tightly sealed and thrown out of the opposite window right on to the packed snow.

And then a power cut occurred.

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