For the first time, I saw it without any overlay of opinion. I saw it as a last green leaf clinging to a branch, and when it was swept up into the air and spun into an eddy of others like itself, I cried at the miracle of clear sight
This question hasn't left his mind. He still doesn't know the answer. The café where he is sitting and thinking is full of people. Some are having coffee with friends, others with family. He's the only one alone. He's also the only one not smiling.
How can pain be a miracle? How can the absence of dreams be a miracle?
Smile, man. Life is a miracle, said someone who approached him in the café. And the words of that smiling man became a miracle.
It wasn't in the pocket, but the pocket within the pocket–the cigarette, like a broken arm, limp at the elbow. He bound the body, between ring and middle finger, to stitch the wheezing wound with but a little spittle, and the gumstrip of a Zig-Zag. When the air drew true, he hoisted it to the sky–that franken-cigarette–right into the glaring face of the moon.
Alive!
Dirty habits like this would have to die . . . but not today . . . that cherry glow, in a Belgian field, underneath the zipping crossfire.
Jenny looked up from her reading. “No, it is not a miracle. It is a what if.”
“What are you talking about?” Johnny asked with uncertainty.
“For every event there are many, many possible outcomes. People often go with the easy or straightforward outcome. Most minds don’t want to be bogged down. They just want to move ahead. The rest of us see the possibilities.”
He looked at Jenny rather puzzled. “I think I see it.” he replied.
The general opinion was the miracle was inconvenient at best. A bad miracle if truth be told. Reuniting with loved ones is rarely dangerous, but connecting with those previously undead relatives is considered a tad hazardous.
He never meant for it to be like that of course. The best intentions were there. It was only meant to be for a select few. But when the earth began to shift across the whole graveyard, not just the chosen few, he knew that this would blemish his reputation. This unwanted, unnecessary, miracle would tarnish him.
Both of them won the school’s competition. The grand prize was to time-travel 100 years forward, but they must report back the most miraculous thing they find. It’s a witchery school after all.
They had been searching…no, browsing,….for hours, and had not agreed on the report.
She ridiculed him when he doubted the equal school attendance of male and female students. He’d brushed off her suggestion on the solar panel invention. Finally, they settled on the Internet. During their time, only the most advanced wizards could send messages that fast.
"it's a miracle... a miracle! The tornado destroyed everything but I lived.... The mudslide missed my house....the earthquake didn't kill my cat...the bullet just clipped an ear!... Don't people REALISE the power and skill needed to steer a fucking tornado through a whole town, or make that orange fool move his head FASTER THAN A DAMNED BULLET?? Who said miracles must be good huh? HUH? Where's it written?"
Demons crept from the chamber... he was having a day.
He had no idea where he had fallen. There was a roaring sound, like the sea. Was he still on board the Curtis? The kamikaze plane had plunged deep into the ship's engines. It was rolling and pitching, smoke everywhere. He was gasping for air, lightheaded, pain down the left leg.
A woman's soft voice. "If you can hear me," she said, "raise two fingers."
Love paralysed Frank. Waves of awe battered him as he held her tiny body close to his, drinking in her wrinkled, clenched fists. Her furrowed brow. The soft black down crowning her Cherubic face. She was a perfection that stole past his barriers, and, despite his best efforts, sowed a love that surpassed his wildest expectations. He was broken. He was reborn.
Oblivious in the eye of the medical maelstrom Frank stood, cradling his daughter, his miracle, weeping as she cooled in his hands.
It was like you see in a movie. The car coming towards James Stornoway was turning from side to side in midair forcing him to make life decisions in nanoseconds. He could clearly see the face of the driver midroll. He reflexively ducked as it passed over his head before crashing into the front of the bank sending a ball of flames skyward. He sat on the pavement feeling the heat from the fire until a woman gently took his arm urging him to move away from the increasing fire.
Read this in the morning, so peaceful (the only dark words are insomnia and nightmare), re-read it again to see if I missed any dark plots... there's none...? :P
The sudden snowstorm down poured feet of snow within hours, leaving me no time to stock up. I glanced at the pantry and there were a few cans and water bottles. It was freezing outside with too high of snow to shovel, leaving me in a cabin whose air was growing colder by the second. I went to bed, wondering how I’d survive. The next morning with a shovel in hand, I stared in awe that the snow melted enough for me to clear a path for myself. A miracle.
John was a ruthless real estate developer. He wanted Winter Haven, but nobody would sell, so began a campaign of trickery, deception, and intimidation.
Alma was the local witch. She didn't want anyone chased off their homesteads. She paid John a visit, grasping his hand before he could pull away. As he slumped, she softly repeated, "Evil greed is the wrong path. Turn away..."
Next day, folks were amazed by John's sudden change of heart, proclaiming, "It's like a miracle!" Alma just smiled and muttered, "Ain't no 'like' about it."
Fireside Revival
By J. Louis
Lucas was greeted not by the soft crackle of a fire, but by cold, wintery silence.
The faint smell of smoke lingered. No fire; only a single smoldering coal.
His father, bundled in furs, stirred with a fit of wet coughs. Lucas placed a hand on his forehead, and his stomach dropped.
How long had the fire been out?
Lucas stuffed a handful of dead leaves into the firepit. Rubbing his hands together, he took a deep breath and blew.
Embers danced on the wind like fireflies as flames consumed one leaf after the next, and he sighed with relief.
--
Not quite 90 words, but hey, close enough!
For the first time, I saw it without any overlay of opinion. I saw it as a last green leaf clinging to a branch, and when it was swept up into the air and spun into an eddy of others like itself, I cried at the miracle of clear sight
90 words of a Miracle:
_____________________________
Do you consider yourself a miracle?
This question hasn't left his mind. He still doesn't know the answer. The café where he is sitting and thinking is full of people. Some are having coffee with friends, others with family. He's the only one alone. He's also the only one not smiling.
How can pain be a miracle? How can the absence of dreams be a miracle?
Smile, man. Life is a miracle, said someone who approached him in the café. And the words of that smiling man became a miracle.
Christmas without a child feels incomplete. A week earlier, my daughter had to be taken to the hospital and all festivities were on hold.
Days passed as we spent our moments holding hands and wishing for something special from Santa.
Like a true miracle, she was home for Christmas.
PROMPT: MIRACLE
THE BABY
The suited businessman smiled broadly as he held his son in his arms for the first time.
It was the miracle of new life.
But what was even more of a miracle, thought his wife, was that he hadn’t seemed to notice that the baby looked exactly like their postman… 👶😎👶
It wasn't in the pocket, but the pocket within the pocket–the cigarette, like a broken arm, limp at the elbow. He bound the body, between ring and middle finger, to stitch the wheezing wound with but a little spittle, and the gumstrip of a Zig-Zag. When the air drew true, he hoisted it to the sky–that franken-cigarette–right into the glaring face of the moon.
Alive!
Dirty habits like this would have to die . . . but not today . . . that cherry glow, in a Belgian field, underneath the zipping crossfire.
“It’s a miracle,” Johnny exclaimed.
Jenny looked up from her reading. “No, it is not a miracle. It is a what if.”
“What are you talking about?” Johnny asked with uncertainty.
“For every event there are many, many possible outcomes. People often go with the easy or straightforward outcome. Most minds don’t want to be bogged down. They just want to move ahead. The rest of us see the possibilities.”
He looked at Jenny rather puzzled. “I think I see it.” he replied.
“Now, that is a miracle,” Jenny chuckled.
Miracle
The general opinion was the miracle was inconvenient at best. A bad miracle if truth be told. Reuniting with loved ones is rarely dangerous, but connecting with those previously undead relatives is considered a tad hazardous.
He never meant for it to be like that of course. The best intentions were there. It was only meant to be for a select few. But when the earth began to shift across the whole graveyard, not just the chosen few, he knew that this would blemish his reputation. This unwanted, unnecessary, miracle would tarnish him.
Oops...
Microdosing Fiction - 90mg of a Miracle
===
Both of them won the school’s competition. The grand prize was to time-travel 100 years forward, but they must report back the most miraculous thing they find. It’s a witchery school after all.
They had been searching…no, browsing,….for hours, and had not agreed on the report.
She ridiculed him when he doubted the equal school attendance of male and female students. He’d brushed off her suggestion on the solar panel invention. Finally, they settled on the Internet. During their time, only the most advanced wizards could send messages that fast.
"It makes me sick!"
Thousand foot walls of flame erupted.
"it's a miracle... a miracle! The tornado destroyed everything but I lived.... The mudslide missed my house....the earthquake didn't kill my cat...the bullet just clipped an ear!... Don't people REALISE the power and skill needed to steer a fucking tornado through a whole town, or make that orange fool move his head FASTER THAN A DAMNED BULLET?? Who said miracles must be good huh? HUH? Where's it written?"
Demons crept from the chamber... he was having a day.
“Who said Miracles must be good” got me into a way more philosophical mood than I expected
yes... it is an interrsting concept isnt it... the bad miracle!
Lucifer having a temper tantrum - that's a scary thought! A fun read, though.
Thanks jeannine... you got it!
You're welcome. I especially appreciated his rant about the "orange fool."
MIRACLE
He had no idea where he had fallen. There was a roaring sound, like the sea. Was he still on board the Curtis? The kamikaze plane had plunged deep into the ship's engines. It was rolling and pitching, smoke everywhere. He was gasping for air, lightheaded, pain down the left leg.
A woman's soft voice. "If you can hear me," she said, "raise two fingers."
He struggled to obey. What was this place?
More voices: "The old man survived the fire."
"He's ninety-eight! Can you believe it?"
"It's a miracle."
Nice twist !
Love paralysed Frank. Waves of awe battered him as he held her tiny body close to his, drinking in her wrinkled, clenched fists. Her furrowed brow. The soft black down crowning her Cherubic face. She was a perfection that stole past his barriers, and, despite his best efforts, sowed a love that surpassed his wildest expectations. He was broken. He was reborn.
Oblivious in the eye of the medical maelstrom Frank stood, cradling his daughter, his miracle, weeping as she cooled in his hands.
It was like you see in a movie. The car coming towards James Stornoway was turning from side to side in midair forcing him to make life decisions in nanoseconds. He could clearly see the face of the driver midroll. He reflexively ducked as it passed over his head before crashing into the front of the bank sending a ball of flames skyward. He sat on the pavement feeling the heat from the fire until a woman gently took his arm urging him to move away from the increasing fire.
Read this in the morning, so peaceful (the only dark words are insomnia and nightmare), re-read it again to see if I missed any dark plots... there's none...? :P
😂😂 there’s none
Miracle
The sudden snowstorm down poured feet of snow within hours, leaving me no time to stock up. I glanced at the pantry and there were a few cans and water bottles. It was freezing outside with too high of snow to shovel, leaving me in a cabin whose air was growing colder by the second. I went to bed, wondering how I’d survive. The next morning with a shovel in hand, I stared in awe that the snow melted enough for me to clear a path for myself. A miracle.
John was a ruthless real estate developer. He wanted Winter Haven, but nobody would sell, so began a campaign of trickery, deception, and intimidation.
Alma was the local witch. She didn't want anyone chased off their homesteads. She paid John a visit, grasping his hand before he could pull away. As he slumped, she softly repeated, "Evil greed is the wrong path. Turn away..."
Next day, folks were amazed by John's sudden change of heart, proclaiming, "It's like a miracle!" Alma just smiled and muttered, "Ain't no 'like' about it."