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Challenge of Inspiration 4
Use the phrases below in a unique story or poem which begs a rejoinder of some kind from other Prosers. Responses need not be entered directly into the challenge--feel free to compose your response as a regular post, then put a link to it in the comments of the original piece so we can all find it. One winning original entry and one winning response entry will be blessed with a life-changing $10 prize! I know... it boggles the mind just to think on it. ______________Here are your challenge phrases: _______________ Fallen heroes, tempting fate, til it burns, in the eyes of strangers, like foreplay, for all the stars, torn apart, begging for mercy, Stairs of Valhalla, without a fight ____________ For clarity, when I say, "Bon chance, mes amis," that is NOT one of the phrases. **ahem** Bon chance, mes amis!

Without A Fight

He sat in the square, on the granite steps, right before the archway. He was weighing his options. That mild summer day was heaving an undercurrent of autumn, with the sinking sun offering no warmth, bleeding into the lengthening Good Night.

Someone passed with an archaic cigarette, glowing like Mars at the tip, and lingering in memory with the scent of stamped out argument. He couldn't tell if it was a man or woman. It passed like a blob flowing dead center through the archway.

He watched a steadily approaching balding middle-aged man leaning over his younger spitting image. One with earnest ears and doubtful brow listening to patriarchal wisdom, while remnant rays of sun streamed around the old man's face:

"That plaque is important. It's like Representative Castle said, 'Fallen heroes represent the character of a nation who has a long history of patriotism and honor - and a nation who has fought many battles to keep our country free from threats of terror,' and as those who have been blessed, we pay our respects." Their backs disappeared into the hall above, becoming very, very small. Insignificant.

He looked down at the ants busy on the sidewalk. Picking up the greasy bits scattered and lying on the concrete. Fifty times their weight.

"Dontch you go tempting fate, marching up der all by yourself, with that weak heart, you hear? I'm two steps behind 'n give me half a chance to catch up with all dis luggage." He turned towards the shrill voice rounding the circle below and traced her gaze up a few steps to where a white-haired man was laboring slowly with pride, pretending he didn't even need the rail. A permanent grimace on his face betrayed years of suppressed pain. The ample lady puffing behind was trying to make her way to him, and when she finally caught up he brushed away her assistance in one gesture, and she continued to trail in respectful delay with the suitcase bobbling and her hand raised in sincere but mock support of his back.

Spotting his grand figure, which would no doubt do her in, if in fact he took a backward tumble.

They passed him gruelingly slow. He wanted to look away, but he caught their eyes one by one and then lowered his eyes feeling he had seen too much, almost missing altogether the culprits of a rapid conversation bounding up the other side of the expansive staircase.

Two tall dark figures with mop-tops obscuring their faces, walking tightly together conspiratorially as if. One expressing some doubt, the other voicing adamant resolution in what seemed to be common knowledge:

"Well, it's science. You hold the glass at a certain angle, magnifying the light rays, and hold it exactly close enough to the fiber of the paper til it burns... and viola, clean, free, beautiful, untraceable fire."

"What's that? I can't hardly hear, what with all the people and traffic around... No. Nope. Honey, we're talking family... in the eyes of strangers, really, you're too much. Let's not worry about how things appear, alright? I say go with the heavy darts," interjected a small businessman.

Turned out he had those Bluetooth wireless earpieces for cell phones. He was jabbering to his missus, hands free.

Unlike the next pair flittering up.

"..heehe ah! no. here, like. no. I said I like foreplay but och, here mphmh stop hahee shush not here... shhh yes over there, under the..." and they slipped around back, behind the archway instead of straight through it like everybody else. He watched pointlessly for a moment. Their shadows were of course flowing in the other direction. All that remained was the smooth wall of imagination.

He was facing the sunset after all. Waiting for twilight, in a busy passageway of the social center.

Suddenly from behind him, middle-aged tourists walking hand-in-hand, descended the stairs. Effortlessly against the grain of the company that continued to soldier onward and upward.

"Yes, for all the stars, that many Angels, my dear. The star is like a little halo, hovering over each watchful keeper in the night, and at day the angels move so fast almost no one can see them!" It was poetic and echoed with a pathos so far removed from reality. They disappeared like children.

Then plop.

"Huph. The way you've torn apart that chili dog is so fricken' gross. I can practically feel your indigestion, man. Eww you're such a beast," and pushing and shoving ensued as two boys raced up way to close to him. He thought almost he'd change his spot, though he knew he'd sit. Sit until the daylight was spent.

He tuned into faint music. Faint to him. It was blasting from this oncoming student's headphones. He was annoyed. She nearly bumped him, but never looked up from her book. He closed his eyes a moment and held his breath.

"We're begging for mercy

(We're down on our knees)

We're begging for mercy

(We've lost our beliefs)

We're begging for mercy

(We're down on our knees)

We're begging for mercy

The pattern, I see it so clear

The world shakes, we're tremblin' in fear

We're gonna astray, we've lost direction

The world breaks down in tears

Broken homes, broken dreams

Broken hearts, it's all I see

I see a world down on it's knees"

The sky was blood and syrup pressed down by a blue-purple fist. Magenta really along the horizon. But on the palette that is called true Red. Maybe that's what we've really got in our veins. He opened his eyes to greet the night.

He decided to go. Try the Assassins Creed again. Tackle those Stairs of Valhalla. Xbox was a gift from the Gods he decided. His stomach growled.

He didn't like being without a fight.

08.07.2023

Bon chance mes amis! inspiration challenge #4 @BJLeCrae