It wasn’t a shock when the announcement was made but the shockwaves rippled into every corner of right-minded society. Voices that had spoken out were silenced. Where were the protesters? Mostly, brutally gathered up into oppressive gunmetal-grey armoured vehicles. Campaigners with a social conscience were 'selected for re-training’. It was clear that the ‘new arrangement’ was total. The Regime issued a blanket ban; refusal to comply was not an option.
Bright red with dinosaurs. Soft and warmer than expected. Winter warmth on beds, or couch snuggles for boys. Archie snuffling and burrowing into the warmth, revelling in couch privileges.
The day the Decision was made, Archie was gently carried from couch to Vet table, on the bright red blanket. Held close with love and despair.
Then wrapped lovingly, gently within the now too bright blanket, in eternal love and warmth.
Wake up. Something smells—squint your eyes. Crawl out of the room with something thick and heavy. Smoke billows.
No time to think. Plunge it in the bathtub, and wet it all through. Place it over your body. It will protect you from the roaring flames. Inhale less. Stop coughing. Quick! Quick!
Don't look at the flames. There's nothing to save. Hear sirens nearby. Hurry! Hurry! Leave this burning house!
The quilt: collected patches, needle sewn into blanket tales, worn-torn tumultuous times under red-head woman’s embraces.
Cyclonic coincidences, sand-blown newspapers, “Times” past-present, late grasp. Corners fold the torn, patched blankets impressions. Tossed into a trunk, tears dry, travel cross-country thousand miles, penetrate seams, and I wake earthquake shaken. Salvation Army repairs. My new sleeping bag traps thoughts of red head lost.
A fluffy blanket of stillness embraces us this frosty morning. We cling to this magic-wrapped blanket of misty uncertainty so light can find its way through the dense blanket of our new love. A love promising to defy darkness. A hope warming our private darkness. Joy can shine in the gloomy murky darkness blanketing our hopes. This blanket of promise feels like the warmest blanket on the coldest night.
Banned (70-word micro fiction)
It wasn’t a shock when the announcement was made but the shockwaves rippled into every corner of right-minded society. Voices that had spoken out were silenced. Where were the protesters? Mostly, brutally gathered up into oppressive gunmetal-grey armoured vehicles. Campaigners with a social conscience were 'selected for re-training’. It was clear that the ‘new arrangement’ was total. The Regime issued a blanket ban; refusal to comply was not an option.
Bright red with dinosaurs. Soft and warmer than expected. Winter warmth on beds, or couch snuggles for boys. Archie snuffling and burrowing into the warmth, revelling in couch privileges.
The day the Decision was made, Archie was gently carried from couch to Vet table, on the bright red blanket. Held close with love and despair.
Then wrapped lovingly, gently within the now too bright blanket, in eternal love and warmth.
Thank you for joining in Nic! Amazing contribution.
Wake up. Something smells—squint your eyes. Crawl out of the room with something thick and heavy. Smoke billows.
No time to think. Plunge it in the bathtub, and wet it all through. Place it over your body. It will protect you from the roaring flames. Inhale less. Stop coughing. Quick! Quick!
Don't look at the flames. There's nothing to save. Hear sirens nearby. Hurry! Hurry! Leave this burning house!
Blanket & Why monsters in the dark are so universal
The monster under the bed
The bogeyman beyond the trees
Allegories for anything that threatens you from
the deep
Capable of killing you and your dreams
It seems cruel to think
the only way to beat it
is to pull back the blanket
but it’s true!
Sacrifice yourself
and whatever you believe
look it in the face
then you will see
The monster lurking in the deep
is you.
There is an elephant in the room.
They’d attempted to hide it under the rug, but it was far too big. The rug (truth be told) was also far too heavy for the boys to manoeuvre.
“Are we going to talk about it?” Callum asked his older brother.
“No,” James said without looking up
“No, we aren’t. Just don’t look at it.”
Callum turned to the unmoving pile in the corner of the room; at the Doc Martens peeking from beneath the red blanket and obediently turned his head.
Woah, great premise! Nicely done!
@Miguel S.
The quilt: collected patches, needle sewn into blanket tales, worn-torn tumultuous times under red-head woman’s embraces.
Cyclonic coincidences, sand-blown newspapers, “Times” past-present, late grasp. Corners fold the torn, patched blankets impressions. Tossed into a trunk, tears dry, travel cross-country thousand miles, penetrate seams, and I wake earthquake shaken. Salvation Army repairs. My new sleeping bag traps thoughts of red head lost.
A fluffy blanket of stillness embraces us this frosty morning. We cling to this magic-wrapped blanket of misty uncertainty so light can find its way through the dense blanket of our new love. A love promising to defy darkness. A hope warming our private darkness. Joy can shine in the gloomy murky darkness blanketing our hopes. This blanket of promise feels like the warmest blanket on the coldest night.
I love this 🫶
Beautiful imagery!
Thank you!