imaginary garden Fireblossom Friday : “The Distorted Lens”
So, your task is to write from the point of view of someone who is seeing reality through a distorted lens.
Pink Girl and Blue Boy
(Mom’s ceramic phase)
sat on the dresser
ignored for the most part
I didn’t like them
but … well, Mom made them.
I picked them up, dusting beneath
then placed them back carelessly,
started to walk away. I felt eyes on
my back, chills on my flesh,
evil in the room and looked behind.
They were glaring at me. I felt their
hate, their spite. I told them it wasn’t
me who had imprisoned them there.
They just glared, nostrils flared,
I was scared to death. Death was in
their minds. I walked back and with
a swipe of my hand swept them to
the tiled floor. Swept up the mess
as my husband ran up the stairs.
You okay, he asked. I told him what
had happened. I didn’t understand
the strange look in his eyes. It began
to be perfectly clear though. Disembodied
spirits like to choose their own hosts.
I’m going to watch him really close.