Permit me to bend

your ear.

That look! Oh my friend,

I'll steer.

Just follow along.

You see

there was this glass bong

and me,

and there goes that look

again.

You should have that looked

at, Tim.

Your reaction is

tell-tale.

Really, it's no sin -

you're pale!

Take a deep breath, Tim.

In, out.

What were you thinking?

In, out.

Here. Sit on this chair.

Dizzy?

Loosen your tie, there!

See me.

Concentrate. You'll be

alright.

You feel so clammy,

uptight.

When was the last time

you went

to get checked? You're fine?

Here bend

forward. Head between

your knees.

Fine you do not seem.

Just breathe.

Let me take your pulse.

Relax.

This is not your fault.

In fact

this is just Nature.

Go home.

and when you're secure,

alone,

draw yourself a bath.

lay back -

Tim? Where are - come back!

Come back!

You can swing a little higher,

risking the fall

and being called out.

But you pitched your ideas well enough

that no one is safe and your heart

won’t be foul

and when you come down

and the tremors slide out

the stars will be balls you can juggle

and the moon an ice-cream scoop

you may fold yourself into.

Happy June everyone! June is Pride month, where any gay, lesbian, trans, and everything between can be their true selves and never have to fear a judgmental society. While I myself am not a member of the LGBT+ community, I'm sadly a boring straight cis-male. However, I am an ally and big supporter, and I wish to show my support and appreciation with this year's new theme challenges.

For those new on Prose I like to create challenges centered around a specific theme such as romance or horror or science fiction. This time around I've chosen to create challenges centered around Pride month. We all know someone who is part of the LGBT+ community, whether that someone is a friend or a family member. Perhaps you yourself are a part of the community. Maybe you're open or maybe you're still in the closet. Regardless, this is about celebrating those in the community and saying that they are loved and accepted.

Please fill free to enter one or all of the following challenges. And please tag me so I can check out your awesome entries.

Best of luck! And remember, love is love!

1. LGBT

Prompt: What does Pride month mean to you?

Link: https://theprose.com/challenge/13237

2. Romance

Prompt: Write a love story or poem focusing on a same sex couple.

Link: https://theprose.com/challenge/13236

3. Micropoetry

Prompt: Write a short poem about LGBT+ pride.

Link: https://theprose.com/challenge/13235

4. Flash Fiction

Prompt: Write a short story with LGBT+ themes.

Link: https://theprose.com/challenge/13234

5. Horror

Prompt: Write a horror story with LGBT+ themes.

Link: https://theprose.com/challenge/13233

7. Reviews

Prompt: Best LGBT+ couples in movies or tv. Or at least ones that you ship.

Link: https://theprose.com/challenge/13232

8. Journal

Prompt: Write from the perspective of someone that is in the closet and wants to come out.

Link: https://theprose.com/challenge/13231

#themechallenges #lgbt #pride #pridemonth #loveislove

I had once been bound

Not by rules, nor by tyrannical hand,

But by my own heart.

The bindings were not unwilling.

I was not held against my will,

But bound by my heart with the fetters of passions.

And, those same passions

Found their way onto the pages of my notebooks.

I filled up more than I can remember

With words of you and what you were to me -

My love and my lover,

My passion and the object of the same,

My heart and my soul,

The north star, the morning star,

The dusk and the dawn.

Somewhere along the way,

As I made my way from novice to poet,

I wrote as those who had gone on before,

Those poets ancient, riddled much with rhyme,

Who did create great rules for rhymer's work:

Rhyme for the sound, and metre for the time.

But, as I learned of finest poetry,

I lost my love, my passions, and my heart.

I babbled on in rhymed cacophany,

Forgetting where I found the blessed art.

I wrote to please the rules, to satisfy

The rigid structure of that which is done.

But, now I wish to free myself again

To come again into my poet's home.

So, once again,

I will write not by the structure,

Or rather, by the obstruction

Of men who are long since dead.

For, they had their chance with passion,

But it died with them. But, my passion

Is still alive.

It thrives on the fire

In my soul still kindling,

Though slightly dwindling,

Still barely visible swindling its life

From the cold outside

Which only seeks its end.

Once again,

I will return to my poet's home.

For that home is you,

As it has been. Who else?

Who, more than my flower,

Blooming like Persephone in the spring,

Could make my heart sing

The tune it sings for you?

This day,

This hour,

This moment,

If only for a moment,

I will bare my heart,

Lending its all to this art

So that I might once again be bound.

Bound by freedom.

Bound by my own heart,

By my own passions.

For you are that same heart,

And each bout of that same passion.

And this poem is for you, my love.

So, if I never again am free to write

With all within my soul,

Know this, then, is my heart's last address,

And know that, for the moment,

If only for a moment,

I wrote of all my hopes and desires.

I wrote of all my passionate fires.

I wrote of each thing which brought me a smile,

Of each step I took on each mile

Toward that which I want more than anything else in the world.

Know that I wrote of you, my love.

If I could, I would live

My life in a jar of glass

Kept far away from

All atrocities

And sadness that infuses

Every day existence.

If I could, I would live

My life in a jar of glass

Save none but loving

Animals to comfort me

And fill the loneliness

Of all my days.

If I could, I would live

My life in a jar of glass

Surrounded by the beauty

Of art and music

To fill the void

Of silent days.

If I could, I would live

My life in a jar of glass

Filled with flowers

And those whom I love

Keeping us far from wayward

Thoughts and ways.

If I could, I would live

My life in a jar of glass

But since life forbids

Such hiding

I will instead live my

Life to the fullest.

Instead, in my every day

Existence, I will treat

All things as if they are

As fragile as the glass

Of that imaginary jar

For which I do long.

i'd keep you,

catch you in

a glass jar

like a firefly,

if you'll let me.

i've got an old

blueberry jam

jar that i think

you'd like.

we could

watch the sun

go to sleep

on the other

side of the

glass, smell

like blueberries,

and dream of

nothing more.

would you

keep me,

if you could,

in a blue

glass sun jam

firefly berry

jar?

would you

make sure

i'm never

lonely, or

is that too

much to

ask?

we could

chip out

glass holes in

the shape of

our hearts,

and patch it

over with jam,

and dream of

nothing more.

Then we did what needed to be done. Washed are hands of the thing thoroughly. Erasing any possible traces that would lead to the mention or discovery of a place. We all knew the way there from a different angle. That none of us had used in the company of another. Including ourselves. We could confidently trust one another not to divulge the plan outside are triumvirate. AKA air our dirty luandry. Because it would only result in one’s own demise. And bring no mention of the other two in the process. We knew not the others real names. Or whence from where thy came. But we could all agree on one thing we would go to any lengths keeping our secret a secret.

Three strangers saved each other from undue horrors. At a place each found themselves by accident at the same time six years prior. They had grown into best buds in that time. Meeting at the spot they first met incognito every time since. For shits and giggles. They each had wish to escape some camp monotony. Of all that hardcore thespian/band/dance camp crap. That’s gotten to an extant one could see it’s out of the many less than adult camp directors scope and control. This year six. To create and cast a broadway caliber summers night dream show. To play out on one big stage yet built for and by a couple hundred pre teen/teen suburban wannabe stage, film, and rock stars. In just under six weeks. No way all three agreed.

Completly disregarding three other older slightly smaller stages. That most all are familiar with. Having previously been part of a production that made use of them. It made no sense not to use them as well. In case we run out of time to build the new grandiose outdoor theatre/stage had in mind. And creating three separate short stories to derive three intimate productions from. That tie into each other in a forth. Time permitting. Is far easier than starting from scratch on a expensive blockbuster set to take place on a yet to be constructed mega stage.

So just to be sure our plans wouldn’t be denied. We prayed someone would cause something to happen to the lumber and gear that had been delivered the day we arrived. That would encourage the directors to feel what we each proposed separately to our individual camps director a good idea worth looking into further. Because once a thespian/rockstar/dance god has their foot in the door. There’s little one can do to deny their youthfully exuberant charms.

FIRE!!!!!!

"Fire?" "Fire?" "Fire?"

"What hear of fire have any to tell?"

As if the devils no not such a thing exist. "Should I be scared”

The three bastards dared to say. Here in the burners infancy.

Then the heat from said blaze blowing to and fro now so intense. Washed over each of their faces on the back of strong winds. And It became apparent the danger was quite real. Even more so when the sounds of shrieking children drowned out that of anything else. It was all said and done in no more than twenty thirty minutes. By the time the fire trucks arrived ten minutes later. Nothin has was left of two out buildings but the charred remains of the bodies and the footings of the former structures. Black smoldering coals and the melted fat from corpses occasionally flaming up hot and burning out fast. Smoke and the smell of sizzling fat inundated the area. Conjuring up terrifying memories for some of the children that witnessed their peers burning to death from less that ten twenty feet away for some.

“What happened?" An accident by all accounts was the seemingly most obvious answer. A spark or something else caught the building materials on fire. Much of which was flammable paints and solvents and stains. Also tons of craft paper and stuff for set design. That got so hot so fast it caught two adjacent old wood buildings also filled with much found flammable. And the hot dry air and windy weather thats found common in the area come summer. Created a tinder box out of the old wood structures. That burned up faster than flash cotton. The forty children never made it out of the beds for the most part. None was injured in the fire that didn’t also lose their life as well. No wounded other than those who were trying to fight the blaze were attended to by the fireman and paramedics. For the scars John, Chris, and Gaylord would wear the rest of there lives. Would not have benefited from a little TLC.

Before their parents will arrive to take them home later that day or the next morning the trio met at the place of their first introductions to each other. Nowhere special just a secluded rock outcrop a short stroll away. In between the three separate-ish camps. That had plans to combine into one legally. But had yet to do so. The three each attended a different camp for the last six years. Becoming very close friends in that time. In secret to anyone else for the most part. Though not for any insidious reasons. It just happened that way. They never wrote each other hardly called on the phone. Until they got older. And then only after taking great care not to make such a notable occurrence.

That afternoon is when things got really weird for the three. Or so they all agreed. None among them took blame for starting the fire Though all said they were eager to be the first among them to do so. And had set out to do so with containers of kerosene they had each stashed and lighters or matches to start the show. As they called it. The greatest show on earth on would explain jokingly. Explaining he was trying to lighten up the situation is all. With a bit of humor. Before adding the reasons for which they’d never made it to their stashes to start the fire. For whatever reason. Their Suspicion now fell on one the other. For how much did they really know about one the other. But first names and some old phone numbers. Never met their families or siblings. Didn’t discuss religion. None mentioned they were into any sporting teams. All they did was talk about their dreams. Which in general were grand fictitious fairytales. As extraordinary or terrifying as they could imagine. Yes they not being above writing scripts for slasher films or ones with grand displays of war atrocities. Could seem to have the potential to imagine any kind of sine full treachery. What next for these three......