I sat down and played with titles and wordle words; the results follow.

In the combination tale, “The Eagle Has Landed”, the title snippets are in bold; wordle words are in italics.

mlmm “it’s all in the titles:

“Choose one or more of the titles below and fashion a poem or story around it =)”

A Fairytale with a Very Bad End

The Scarlet Temple

Shadow Puppet

An Unavoidable Encounter

Cracked Facade

I is an Illusion

Famished: An Unrelenting Silence

Festering Roots

7 Years




on the cracked façade

in the scarlet temple

of my famished heart

the unrelenting silence

sends festering roots deep

an unavoidable encounter

with ineffable 7 years

of broken mirror bad luck


mlmm bonus holiday 2 wordle words:

“This is your second holiday Wordle list! Use at least 10 of the words to create a story or poem. The words can appear in an alternate form. Use the words in any order that you like.”

morii: desire to capture a fleeting experience; drop; florid: reddish, rosy, ruddy, excessively ornate, flowery, showy; tussle (not used); ribbon; song; preparation; dawn; solstice; poinsettia; perforate; wine

She perforates her skin; drop of florid blood into cup of winter wine. Singing song of preparation, she plaits ribbons into her hair. Waiting for the morii, perfect moment of poinsettia-red streaked solstice dawn.

“The Eagle Has Landed”

She saw him, one solstice dawn, when florid streaks of poinsettia-red bled from the clouds. Examining the cracked façade of the Scarlet Temple, singing a song in a language she no longer understood.

He slung a pack off his back, then kneeling with a trowel, scraped at the millennial of earth covering the festering roots of the temple’s soul looking for answers.

She did not know he searched these mountains for an ineffable 7 years; his colleagues always trying to perforate his belief of finding her like the popping of balloons on New Year’s Eve.

So, like a shadow puppet, his strings pulled by unseen forces, he moved towards an unavoidable encounter with her.

She was famished in the unrelenting silence of her perch atop the world; his voice was deep blood-red like wine at the wedding feast.

She dropped down from her aerie, calling, wheeling, soaring. Praying he would see her, love her as she did him.

The man looked up, shading his eyes from the bright ribbon of sunlight slashing between the mountain peaks.

Prepared, he reached for his gun, a sniper-marksmen shot right into the descending eagle’s heart. “I loved you and I am done,” she screamed – her worlds unintelligible to her lover, her killer.

But I is an illusion in fairytales with a very bad end, for as her feathered body hit the temple floor, for a morii, she returned to her human form; that most beautiful woman; the wife he had lost in those mysterious mountains. 

(c) Lorraine

image: Where Eagles Reign (from Deviant Art) by Child of Bodhom