Object Writing, Prose & Poetry Forum

October 20, 2019, 04:54:25 PM
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This week's words;

Sunday - Instructions

Monday- Motorcycle

Tuesday- Wildflower

Wednesday- Asparagus

Thursday- Stopwatch

Friday - Confetti


Word of the Day
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Author Topic: Front Door  (Read 92 times)
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« on: June 15, 2019, 04:13:18 AM »

I remember my fathers front door. The door was ajar and gleaming white against the rusty lock chain shackled to the door frame. The chain ricochet off the lock, swung the door handle to the other end of the house like a tethered ball, winding against the stagnant string of a bronze pole-and then rippled over the chalk-colored walls, peeling acidic peels of paint as your finger boils with scars. His feet seemed to fill those dingy socks until it stretched over the top lacing of his sandals-then you would see how his joints shifted to the tender muscles of his toes-popping under his soggy tank top. He ringed the hose to the driveway, suds foamed sparkling over a frozen faucet. Water dancing against the round pebbles like a mountain stream, grooving and sidestepping down an electric kaleidoscope of neon lights-and then the feebled knees and hips popping against the snare drum towards the funky sidewalk.
« Last Edit: June 15, 2019, 04:16:13 AM by amld16 » Logged
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