Welcome all, to the final Flash Fiction prompt of 2020, a Holiday Edition of the Friday 55. This year has been a slog, and it's not over yet, but the time has come to acknowledge it will not last forever, and in fact is in its last throes of weirdness and upheaval as we speak. Whether your mood is celebratory, contemplative or still an utter roil of feelings, you're invited to write it all out here, in 55 words, no more no less, on any subject that strikes your fancy.
I will leave the page open for contributions til December 31st at midnight since this is a busy time for all, even in isolation.
Post the link to your 55 in the comments below, and I will be by to mark the passing of this Hell Year with you.
Brighter Days Ahead.
My 55, such as it is:
Supplication To The Old Year
Jack Frost, Jack Frost
crack the wind
for what we've lost.
Kiss the tree,
break the wood.
Show us all that's gone for good.
Toss the cow over
the mad moon's head.
Put stars on her horns
in the land of the dead.
Numb my hand, burn my ear;
then keep your promise and disappear.
Images: Vintage Victorian Christmas Card, circa 1890 Fair Use
Illustration for The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayam, © Edmond Dulac Fair Use
Cow and Moon, © Alex Colville via intyernet Fair Use