Wordle #581- 12-04-22- The Reckoning

“What you going to do about it, numb nuts?”

That was the last straw! He not only was challenging me, but he had resorted to using foul language in front of ladies!
A flame rising from the ashes of my childhood fears when listening to my drunken father’s abusive rants at my mother was uncontrollably burning inside me.
When I reached for his throat, the walls of the saloon seemed to split open. One large gap spilled a blinding light over the two of us. I was no longer a child cowering underneath my bed. A reckoning was at hand!

The rest is a blur, even now, as I await my moment on the gallows. My own future decided by men longing for a cold beer and a quick resolution had dismissed who I was in favor of who they needed me to be- a murderer.

The world would soon forget, possibly even forgive, me. I had rid this place of a brutal bully who had terrorized every single citizen causing a weight of hopelessness and despair.

As the hangman pulled the lever, I felt my mother’s tender touch sweep along my cheek beckoning me to come home.

d’Verse Prosery: Clouds

  You must use the lines in their entirety. You may change punctuation and capitalize words, but you are not allowed to insert words in between parts of the lines/ sentence.

“But these clouds are clearly foreign, such an exotic clutter

Against the blue cloth of the sky”

–from “Clouds” by Constance Urdang

See the source image

Whispering Dawn lifted her head above the blackberry spires she and her daughters had worked their way among. Her girls were busy shoveling as many berries into their bellies, as their buckets, so she chirped to get their attention.
Each of them froze and looked to their mother for further explanation of this seldom used warning.
Dawn pointed toward the East where dreamy white clouds chased along the ridge. The girls nodded then watched her draw an imaginary line along the horizon ending in the Westward sky.
“But these clouds are clearly foreign, such an exotic clutter against the blue cloth sky. What do they mean, girls?”
In unison they gasped, “Fire!”.
The girls rushed to escape the patch in a fluster when their mother chirped once more.
Again they froze.
“Panic kills more often than flames. Never, EVER, forget that. Now, follow me.”

(144 words)