You've heard about the Monday Blues well this is Monday WRites (musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance for eg the rite of afternoon tea).
Welcome to Monday WRites # 319: A Happy Monday to all. Be Safe.
Challenged to Write a piece of flash fiction or other prose no more than 144 words that includes the line given: “What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow out of this stony rubbish?”--The Wasteland, T.S. Eliot
TWO NEW WORDS
It was in deep quiet, that he had returned to his friend's planet - Earth. They had promised to keep in touch by siman, but he was never one who liked wrist watches, those times he had sojourned on earth. So he just never got around to keeping in touch. But he knew his friend Adam would welcome him anytime he wanted to visit back.
Where were the cars, the buses, the trains, the aeroplane noises, the men and women walking the dogs.
What was happening to his friend's blue planet earth?
As he walked a familiar path; the words he once met came to mind again “What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow out of this stony rubbish?” In short where was everyone, what was happening.
Later at his friends house he met with the words pandemic and lockdown. © gillena cox 2021