So many times I've paced this floor 

Lost track of time while I watched that door.

I waited for you to come back as you said,

For each time you left I was filled with dread.

Finally, one day you didn't come home.

You left me to go on and roam.

All alone I was abandoned once more 

This time I would not be taken as your whore.

A rage filled me burning bright

So I took the match and set it alight.

Grabbing the gun next to me

I vowed I would be your banshee. 

After months of tracking you down 

I finally held the gun up to your crown.

I ended you with a final crack.

Than I turned the gun back to myself. 

Morning Prosers,

Week eighteen is upon us and the weeks are just flying by.

Last week we all donned our capes and spoke of how we abuse our superpowers. You did not disappoint. There are some movies in the making right there.

Before we go ahead and announce the winner of that challenge, let’s take a look at this week’s prompt:

Prose Challenge of the Week #18: Write about murder. The winner will be chosen based on a number of criteria, this includes: fire, form, and creative edge. Number of reads, bookmarks, and shares will also be taken into consideration. The winner will receive $100. When sharing to Twitter, please use the hashtag #ProseChallenge

This is your chance to commit murder, so get creative.

So, onto last week’s winner. We have read every piece, and deliberated as a team. The winner of the Prose Challenge of the Week #17 is @HauntedEquinox with “The Healer.” Congratulations, we will be in touch shortly to organise transfer of funds!

Until next time, Prosers,

Prose.

Disorganized darkness stuffed between crumbling gypsum board. 

Gypsum.

Board.

Gypsy...just a bored gypsy.

Dreary day

Dreary night

So difficult to tell in this firefly light.

Shivers down my skin

Harum-scarum

Let's begin again.

Punch-drunk ghosts of stories gone by.

I recall the footprints of those frayed ideas of mine.

Traipsing through my memories

Skipping along my brain.

Disobedient, Delirious 

This light-show only served the vain.

I can open my eyes

See the truth of the room I'm in.

But I'd much rather close them

And begin again.

Flashing lines roll across a blotchy black surface,

 blinking like an old neon sign,

except this is a plain screen of black and white.

 light shadows in from the front and interrupts my vision,

my vision that makes me feel like I've taken a blow to the head,

and I open my eyes and my imagination starts to roll again like film.

Fleeing dark of night

Long tail bug flies round the light

Trapped in pointless plight

I turn the crank

My daily grind

To feed my bank

I close my mind

To dreams

Of mountain streams

And damsel's screams

Adventures bound

And treasures found

I Uber on

Till workday's end

Then joy dawns

And true life begins

Muse gives me wings

To do my thing

I catch the vapors

With pen and paper

I transform

Into a world shaper...

so here I am minding my

own business,

looking out the window

watching the squirrels

play and run from tree to tree ...

when all of a sudden

someone turned out the lights

and doused both my pupils

with salt and pepper!

Oh,

wait a minute

wait a minute ... ...

everything's okay,

don't be alarmed

I just closed my eyes too tight ...

I am your bard

From soft to hard

I ply sweet treats

From head to feet

If love be feast

I banquet fete

We stunt to peak

We scream

We freak

When you confide

Dreams to commit

My eyes go wide

I lose my wits

Don't you know love's

A strong man's fear?

I tremble

When our

Hearts

Grow near

So after fun

And 'fore the sun

I grab my shoes

And run

And run...

smooth black,

specked in dust,

but I still see some

color bleeding through.

it all feels far away,

like breathing on

the tips of reach.

hiding as though

my vision is caustic,

and beasts play in

the blended depths

of my failed perception,

memory makes

my bones ache for

the last of the veil

and my words nestle

in the corner trying

to survive another day,

avoiding permanent

rest upon the page.

Gently close my eyes and drift

Reveries of tastes, smells, and sights

life’s little joys sprinkling senses

Fresh grass and rich earth scent

baseball game, hot dog smells waft

families climbing grandstands

peanuts overflowing grubby hands

seniors clutching bargain tickets

sunscreen slathered, ball caps

pulled down on bald heads

clear voice of the announcer

spelling out players’ stats

crack of the bat, pop of the ball

in leather catcher’s mitt

grand slam, screams of fans

smiling faces, exuberant glee

I open my eyes, make a request

Take me out to the ball game.