All is Lost

“All is lost,” she whispered as she watched the home she’d lived in all her life collapse under the flames devouring it. The shed, the outbuildings, the homes on either side of hers, all aflame. She didn’t know what to do other than stand and watch, didn’t know what to think, where to go, how to proceed. She only knew all was lost.

Please use the open space below to share your first 50 words on the topic “all is lost.”

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Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

8 thoughts on “All is Lost”

  1. After her divorce from a physically abusive spouse he retaliated by slowly doing everything he could to alienate the two adult sons they had together. He remarried within a year of their divorce. The widow he married was younger and had three under age children. In essence, he replaced the family he had with another. He also held on tightly to his own two sons and made certain that they were invited constantly to join the company of his new family. He not only denied that he had been physically abusive but made up lies about his ex-wife to his sons. He would do anything he could to pull them away from her. His slow and steady method of destroying the relationship his sons had with their own mother was a complete success. It took quite a long time but it worked. Her life had centered around her family. She adored her sons. The fact that she stayed in the marriage for so long was only because she didn’t want her children to have to live, as she had, in a home with an absent father. Her ex-husband’s cruel efforts practically destroyed her. She felt that all was lost.

  2. We, in the United States, are hard pressed to really mean that all is lost unless we are one of the most impoverished or vulnerable of people. Migrants, refugees certainly are among this group as are most incarcerated persons and those without replacement insurance of any kind. That “all” is a might word. It operates in the emotions as well as about possessions. All is not lost until all, everything, is lost but my heart may vehemently object. It FEELS like all is lost, so that makes it so.

  3. The naggings of my muse were becoming more than annoyance. She went from ethereal to near palpable as other aspects of my life seemed shrouded in a shifting fog.

    “Write!” she demanded. “Need something to write about? Well, why don’t you try looking at your last flurry of short stories for inspiration.”

    Obedience for the sake of peace from her assaults sent me looking in my primary documents folders. No immediate hits, so I tried searching my entire PC for all *.DOC or *.DOCX files. Lots of them for sure, thousands, but no short story titles.

    I looked online at all of my personal Web sites. The nets I cast all came back empty of my fiction.

    Feeling clever and hopeful, I began searching through my emails. I remember emailing some of these stories to editors several years ago and I keep emails. I have some going back to 1995. Clever or not, the result were still the same: not one could be found.

    “All is lost,” my muse whispered. “You’d better get to writing.”

  4. After several hours of trying to find my way out of the woods I got this terrible feeling of being trapped. I began to panic as beads of sweat began to pour from my body. How did this happen when all I wanted was a simple walk in the woods. Dusk was quickly descending and that is when I decided, “all is lost.”

  5. “All is lost,” he shuddered as he struggled to hush the murmurs. Voices told him the things he should do. “Where are they?” He opened the last bottle but it was empty. No blue and white capsules were left. The room twirled and he couldn’t bare the timbre any longer.

  6. Everyone looks at me with pity. Eyes reflecting the same idea, that all is lost.
    To them, my circumstances seem dire, with no possible happy ending. All they see is failure. But to me, nothing is lost, because nothing had been found. And because nothing is lost, everything starts now.

  7. My daughter tried to be brave . Put up a smile , however fake . The eyes screamed -“All is lost.” She will throw a hysterical fit , once she was alone .
    She might have had one as she came here. I thought. It seemed more likely. Eyes were red ringed . What could I say to reassure her ?
    Nothing . I couldn’t lie . The reports wouldn’t lie . The doctors wont .
    But there have been miracles . There have been cases where one has been written off,and bounced back. With strength both inexplicable and incredible . Life was strange .Death stranger .I was there lying , and my daughter crying over my imminent passing away. I was incapable of consoling her .
    Telling her , as I had done numerous times earlier, “this too shall pass”. This wont . The grief wont . I will. The vulnerability of a parent . The realisation that your personal rock of Gibraltar is flesh and blood after all. Prey to diseases and cancer . Capable of rotting, decaying , and leaving you alone , like a miserable flotsam in the frothy , churning , vicious sea of humanity.
    She looked at me , almost with accusation , as if asking ” How could you mom ?”
    I answered back , contrite , “I am sorry , baby”
    We both burst into tears and fell into each others arms .

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