Rian floated from one form to another. Ice to water, glitter to dust, male to female and back again.
Rian frothed, dissipated, cycled through the clouds to the ground again.
Every nerve was disconnected. Each sensation coagulated around the indecisive form.
Rian’s thoughts blitzed the sky above. The ground pulsed with a steady heartbeat.
There was understanding. Then it was gone.
There was breath. Then stone settled in its place.
There was anger, now blinding regret.
Rian slipped between fire and glass, remnant of overheated ash; a permanent in memoriam to the transition between football and a silver dress.
Word Count: 99 exactly
For the flash fiction challenge at Carrot Ranch.
Happy Easter if you celebrate it (or celebrate it today).
Sri Lanka, my entire heart aches for the devastation of the bombings.
I don’t mean to say it so much
But sometimes this world *d*ucking sucks.
And when I’m frustrated
I don’t really want my phone to trade my violent words
For small feathery creatures,
Perhaps in hopes it will quell raging digits.
Somehow it works and I laugh at the absurdity
Of our materialism
And our in love yet in loathe relationships
With AI and short fuses.
Then I think of you
And my words come to a jumbling, clotting stop
Because I’ve long preferred making myself small
In hopes that avoidance of everything big
Will render me no more than the innocent bystander to a life
I’ve never felt in control of.
Maybe I’ve always believed I didn’t deserve the beauty you gave me.
It doesn’t erase the emptiness,
Or the memories of the last time I truly felt home etched in my soul.
But I can’t type “fuck” because iPhone prefers ducks.
Water reminds me
We’re not alone
Landlocked and desperate
The curve of waves
Rising to the sky
I don’t know how
To build a bridge
I can only collect every grain of sand
Until we can walk across the tide
On April 17, 2016 I registered on WordPress and made my first post on this blog.
I was certain I’d never have 1 person who wanted to read anything I wrote.
Thank you guys for reading, commenting and hanging out with me over the last three years. I’ll never be able to express just how much it means.
“Uggghh.” Janey’s fingers left long claw marks in the hot sand around her.
As the sun beat down on her bare legs the scent of burning flesh tickled her nose.
“Ugghh … grape … juice …” In all of her five years she had never been so thirsty.
“Janey!” A mirage of her older sister appeared; just like the movies. “Mom said to sit up. You’re taking up too much room in the sandbox.”
Hana dropped a bottle of water into the sand beside her younger sister. Janey flopped onto her back, “Grape juuuice.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers, Janey.”
Word Count: 99
Word/Phrase: “Beggar’s can’t be choosers”
For Carrot Ranch and a reappearance of the sisters that appeared in this story
By some twist in irony this is exactly a year old and somehow it’s relevant again. Cycles, full circle, something. Thanks for partaking in my whine.
Sometimes I wish I could be the mom
That my father claims I am.
Shitty and repulsive
With no other care.
I couldn’t be the person
In the narrative he keeps,
The story he likes to tell about me.
The daughter that left her child.
The daughter that only comes around for money.
The daughter that only cares about the next party.
Tonight I’ll try to convince myself
All these things I do aren’t just for show.
I’ll wish I were beautiful.
I’ll wish I were smart.
I’ll wish I hadn’t broken your heart.
I’ll tell myself everyone’s proud of me.
Tonight I’ll sit on my bathroom floor
With my broken bottle of whine
And cry myself to sleep.
So when I wake tomorrow
It will all just be a bad dream
And my bottle of my whine
Will be poised on the counter neatly,
Waiting to be filled with
Broken expectations and unfulfilled dreams,
Bad words and ugly names,
Until it overflows and needs to be broken again.
Then I’ll sit on my bathroom floor
With the weight of this world,
Frothing and rushing,
Threatening to drown me
But never winning out.