Everyone has something That means everything to them That has sentimental value to them Whether that be something physical Or something they can’t touch But no matter Whatever it is that’s important to us We can’t go without it

The treasures we collect along the way Create our memories And they truly complete who we are 🖤

Her name rings in my mind My body wrapped around her skin Kissing her cheek As she falls asleep

You’re my beloved You’re my one I can count on her For anything

She holds my hand As I go into surgery Waiting for me To wake up

I could lay here For the rest of my days Holding hands While we are alseep

A knife no ordinary knife it’s antique knife A knife to protect my self To eat Camping trips Fishing with my dad It’s life Fought many battles Its history from Waterloo to the present It’s a symbol of stealth lethality manhood It’s a saviour Healing and cutting wounds Beautifully crafted and cuts like a razor

No notice to others around Simple to others Just a boring profound

Supporting us when the sun is low With great strength Of what’s on the table

A tiny decoration That lends a large hand

White and puffy Sometimes large The little kids call it Duffy

Oh I don’t get why they don’t like it A marvelous creation That’s what it is

No notice to others around Simple to others A boring profound

Not the prompt- I started with a random word and let my middle bar finish.

Oh yea yea but it is a different colored brown brown eyes lol lol oh yeah she looks really cool lol she just looked at it she said oh yea I think she is a good friend but she is still here but I think she’s like oh no she was like a cat and I like that she didn’t even think she knew she had to go get back to the cave lol she said oh no no one was in her sleep she was like oh yeah I think she was just it like I said she didn’t want her but then I said she didn’t want her lol 😆 oh no she was like a princess 👸 oh yea she did she got it all her back lol 😆 I just found her lol 😆 oh no 🙊 I’m not just joking 🙃 lol 😆 I’m not a good 😊 but she said I was going down there 👇🏻 but I’m a go look for it lol she was still a black

puɐʇsɹǝpun noʎ uɐɔ

ʇsɐd ʎɯ

ou

ʇnq

slʇɥ pɐǝɹ uɐɔ noʎ

It was a vacant house full of good potato salad and Luther Vandross sing alongs, tight roller sets, and easy laughter cautious windows watching over the neighbors

it was an old house first built on the block painted brick and that tree the kids used to climb R&B in the kitchen, bikes in the driveway

it was a nice house first Black family on the block hydrandreas fading pink, porch chairs empty a mantel crowded with graduation photos

it was a family home lit red and blue from the ambulance lights a stuffed mailboxof past due statements and flyers hushed arguments around the dining room table

It was a vacant house but never empty

I’m not referring to the Taylor Swift album though I definitely could talk about that.

It’s the age of my grandmother’s Oldsmobile.

I’m not calling my grandmother’s car old. That’s the brand of car. She refuses to drive anything else. You may not believe me, but she says if the car dies before her, she’ll stop driving.

My grandfather used to call it “the tank” for the durability of it. Nothing could take that car down.

I remember on days my grandparents would take my sister and I on day trips. The velvet seats were so soft and fun to brush my fingers against, not a sign of age like some people may think. Cranking down the windows took some effort for my young noodle arms, but it was cool.

I still think that even if it is a little impractical.

It’s older than me—no scratch that, it’s older than my oldest sister.

But I love it. It represents so much of my grandmother. The vehicle may look small and weak, but it is so much more. Durable. Persistent. Formidable. Strong. Everlasting.

She is everlasting.

It was an old pin, bent and rusted, pockmarked with dimples. It was of a dog, with a rabbit in its mouth. First it came to Europe from Scandinavia, by wooden ship, through hungry, untamed waved. Then to a mistress, young and black-haired, brown-eyed, in a frilly white dress, a banquet of yellow, handpicked flowers in her delicate hands. Then to her daughter, black hair and curls like the moon, easing her tears as the iron pin followed her over the channel. Next a lover, forgotten by time and lost by society, who treasured the pin until the end. And it was sold, sent away with the rest of their life’s possessions, into some dusty corner of a shop. And then another woman, sending the pin as a gift, into the hands of a niece. And then to the niece’s beloved, dog becoming bent and scuffled through blood and tears and gunshots and trenches. Then to his son. The rabbit’s foot was snapped off, but the dog still posed regally in its last image. Such an unassuming memorial of lives long gone, so easily forgotten and left to crumble in the dirt, an improper yet reminiscent burial. Rejoining all of its past lives.

This isn’t finished yet because I don’t even know how it ends myself, so I hope you guys can wait an indefinite period of time for part two, lol! 😂

“What am I going to do now?” Blake pondered after another lead failed. “She must have given this to me for a reason…” Blake’s voice trailed off as he turned the snow globe in his hand.
“Blake, I think you should stop this, it’s turning into an obsession. The police already determined what happened.” Allan, Blake’s best friend said.
“Well they’re wrong, I know it wasn’t suicide!” Blake snapped back.
“Callie was depressed, so she jumped off a bridge, that kind of stuff happens all the time!” Allan threw his hands up, exasperated.
“If you’re only here to talk me out of it then leave.” Blake yelled.
“I’m only trying to be a good friend!” Allan cried, “This whole investigation into your sisters death is making you go crazy! You don’t even live anymore!”
“You don’t know what it’s like to lose the one person in your life that cares about you!” Blake screamed, pushing Allan outside and slamming the door.
“Yes I do…I lost you.” Allan whispered as he trudged away from the house.
“Finally, peace!” Blake said, quickly reaching for his water glass.
“Shoot!” Blake cried as he accidentally knocked the snow globe onto the floor. “Callie…” Blake whimpered as he picked up the broken shards of glass.
The night Blake’s sister, Callie had supposedly jumped off a bridge she was planning on going on a date with a handsome looking British guy named Lionel. Before she left though, she gave Blake a snow globe and told him, “Keep this with you to remind you of me when I’m no longer here. The people in it look just like you and me!” At first Blake had thought she had been taking about how she would no longer be with him when she moved out since she was older than him, but after she died Blake thought there was more to it. Ever since then Blake had followed up every possible lead to find out could’ve happened to Callie, everything seemed to always be a dead end. Now as Blake was cleaning up the broken snow globe he cried bitter tears for he believed that he had just lost the key to solving his sisters death.
“Ugh, I hate myself!” He sobbed, “Wait, what the heck is that!” He stopped short as he picked up a small, golden key. “Why didn’t I think of this earlier! The snow globe wasn’t the key, it was protecting the key!” He smiled, remembering Callie’s beautiful smile.

To be continued, maybe…..