Reena’s Exploration Challenge #121

Michael’s contribution to Exploration Challenge #121

Michael's avatarMorpethroad

rec121The last book on Planet Earth

Of the books ever written, it made sense that the last one standing was “The Book of Survival at The End of The World”.

Everyone still alive had one, and it was considered the bible in terms of survival.

In some ways, as the end neared, the book was more redundant than useful but when all you have is hope you cling to it like your life depends on it.

Written many years earlier, it detailed the steps you would need to take when life was drawing to a closure. There was nothing you could do about it, the darkness had gradually been getting more intense, the inhabitants lived a subsistence life, death was more prevalent than birth.

Misery became the norm, death couldn’t come fast enough for some, such that throughout the earth, only pockets of life remained. Those who believed in the…

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Magic Show

"Good magic! Where are your legs, Fake Genie?" "I’m at your service, Ma’m, wherever they are." The genie smiled. "I’ll book you for employee engagement in the next offsite meeting." https://only100words.xyz/2020/02/06/three-line-tales-week-210/

Friday – poem for dVerse

sarahsouthwest's avatarSarah writes poems

Friday sits like a coin in my pocket
whispering to me. What shall I spend it on?
I could buy a kite, or a coffee,
or a pair of shoes. I could spend it all
on a book, or a poem, or a fragment
of something half written,
tossed away on the wind. I could take it out
and polish it in the sunlight,
roll it across a sanded floor,
send it spinning into a wave
crashing onto a shingle shore.
I could take a ride on a bus
to the end of the line,
or buy an apple and biting it
learn what good is, and what’s evil,
I could hold my hand out
to a cunning magpie,
offer my silver as a gift,
sacrifice it to an ancient goddess,
bury it beneath a hawthorn tree,
or I could hide it underneath my pillow,
feel the dull thickness of…

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neelwrites/flash/fiction/04/02/2020

neeltheauthor- author of WHEN LIFE THROWS THOSE CURVE BALLS's avatarneelwritesblog

Levitation

Image result for SHAHEEN BAGH, PIX?

WHY SHAHEEN BAGHS HAPPEN

By Neel Anil Panicker

“Mamma, I don’t want to go to school,” eleven year old Shazia shouted out, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Simmi, hearing her little one’s cries, rushed out of the kitchen.

“What is it, my baby? Why are so upset? Did anyone scold you? Say something?”

As the little one’s tears wailings showed no end of stopping, the concerned mother lifted her and sat her down on the bed.

“Now tell me, my dearest, ” she started, wiping away her third born’s tears with the edges of her kurti.

“Mamma, tell me are we Pakistanis?”

The question momentarily stumped Simmi.

Then, she calmed herself, and coolly replied, “No, we are Indians. Proud Indians at that. We…”

“Then, why do they all call me Pakistani, Mamma?”

Simmi, realising what she was up against, replied, “Now, my dear, tell me , do all your friends…

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Is There An Exit Strategy?

Is there an exit strategy? … asks VJ Knutson

VJ's avatarOne Woman's Quest

Following political tides –
mesmerized by neglect
of actual issues – playing
to an audience of moaners
(standard consumerist
plights) – glossing over
exploitation of women,
verbal slaughter of race,
religion and social values.

Wondering about media –
who commandeer bias,
swallowing atrocities and
spewing contrived truths,
absent sound voice, or will,
jeopardizing the security
of so many trampled in
the race for what? Surely
not responsibility – what

lapse of conscience has
allowed hateful rhetoric
to bloody progress, no
consequences?  Who will
bear the burden when in
the absence of morality
or respect for humanity,
the margins will increase?

The world quakes at the
failure to acknowledge
this broken path, see only
a devaluation of assets,
perceive a race that did
no more than increase
the monarchy of a king,
grant power to absolve
sins – a sleight-of-hand
trick – nothing to do with
the common habitants –
have…

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Reena’s Exploration Challenge #120 – The Rhetorical Question.

The Rhetorical Question ….. by Michael

Michael's avatarMorpethroad

rec-120

The politician stood in front of his audience, delivered his address and then invited questions.

The first question asked about his government’s response to the current domestic crisis.

The politician listened to the question and gave himself a moment to consider his response before saying he took the question as a rhetorical one and didn’t feel the need to make any comment.

It was his standard response when asked something he either didn’t have an answer to or didn’t want to answer.

He turned his media conferences into meaningless exchanges in which he espoused his virtues and those of his government and ignored anything uncomfortable.

He discovered a sound way to protect himself, his rhetoric in reply, to what he considered a rhetorical question. Always delivered with the smugness of a seasoned politician.

Written for: https://reinventionsreena.wordpress.com/2020/01/30/reenas-exploration-challenge-120/

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Reena’s Exploration Challenge # 120

Sadje’s take on Exploration Challenge #120…

Sadje/ Sadie's avatarKeep it alive

Reenais the host of Reena’s Exploration Challenge.

Reena’s Exploration Challenge

Welcome back to this space, friends!

PROMPT

The theme this week is

RHETORICAL QUESTION

Use the words in your piece, allude to it in some way, or include the figure of speech in your writing.

Have a ball! Can writers write?

~*~

There are so many unnecessary things that we say in a day. Asking futile questions and making observations, starting the obvious. Some people are kind and do answer these rhetoricalquestions and reply to our statements which can only be answered by a yes. While there are others who can never resist to make a joke out of it.

With keys and a purse in your hands, you are headed out the door when your kid or husband would say, “Are you going out?”

“No, I was just getting a glass of water from the kitchen”

“But…

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It’s Me

It's not Alice. That's my face peeping back at me— reflecting the desire to hide, shirk reality. It cannot be my head - the one I held high, so high that others wished to chop it off.  Do they still want it, or are gloating with satisfaction? Deceit mangles the psyche. Something that I did … Continue reading It’s Me