Microfiction: Time machine

This short story is for Rochelle Wisoff’s Friday Fictioneers writing challenge. I went slightly over limit at 106 words.

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

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When the watchmaker learned that his wife had at best three months left to live, he spent the first of those months building a giant timepiece.

“I won’t let you go,” he whispered to her at night when he finally left his workshop and climbed into bed beside her. His wife smiled weakly and patted his hand.

When the machine was ready, the watchmaker climbed inside and began to peddle. Backwards. He would turn back the clock to the time before his wife got sick.

After the funeral, they took him to the psychiatric hospital, but they let him keep his time machine. He’s pedalling still.

Somewhere

Incapable of following the simplest rules, I shouldn’t be doing these challenges at all! Here’s a trillonet with the correct number of lines for the Secret Keeper’s weekly writing prompt. The words to use are:

SONG | WOMAN | FREE | NO | LOST

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Somewhere a woman sings her song,

Though there’s no one there to listen,

The wind-blown words are scattered wide.

 

The night has never seemed so long,

Cold night stars have ceased to glisten,

Behind dull cloud, moon tries to hide.

 

Somewhere the one who did her wrong,

Trapped by regret’s bitter prison,

Free to remember how he lied.

 

The future seems so bleak, so long,

Cold wind blows, a winter frisson,

What’s lost is gone, and she must bide.

 

Winter’s coming but after spring

Head held high, whatever it bring.

Her love left her forsaken

Another atempt at an echo poem

 

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Her love left her forsaken,

Taken

Beneath the may tree grieving,

Leaving

He plucked the feathers from her heart,

Part

So she could not fly away.

Stay

He slipped her heart into a box,

Locks

And threw away the key.

Sea

White gull spied, through green waves falling,

Calling

But she lets it lie, the deep sea tending.

Ending

Clear-eyed she turns to face the night,

Bright

Where moon and starlight fill the place,

Space

The hollow filled with tears now dried,

Cried

White feathers and may blossom blow,

Snow

The wild west wind has set them free,

Free.