Razor sharp chords mixed with gritty voices float from inside dark clubs and crowded bars.
A homeless man swings his Gandalf like beard as he jives down the middle of the street. His ripped shirt blows open in the breeze; giving him an underdog superhero cape made of rips and stains. One good shoe crunches into the pavement while his bare foot escapes to swing free. With palms raised to his heaven, he smiles into the oncoming storm.
It reminds me of my mother’s face; not because his inner peace oozes into the atmosphere. I can see her wrinkling nose and hear her sucking in her breath between puckered lips. I can feel her eyes cutting into my skin as she judges me from beyond.
“Such vulgarity. Here among these people, these bars … Who are you? I don’t know anymore.”
She’s always been right. Though I model her skirts and simple knit tops I’ve never been the girl she craved I would be. I drop my bag and grab the mans knotted hands. Vulgar or not, we can dance til the end.
Word of the day: Vulgar Music: A mix of instrumental (The Echelon Effect, Lights and Motion, Chad Lawson)
“Oh shit.” Mark disappeared below the railing. “What?” Emmy strained to see beyond the trees. “No, it’s Mrs. Smith!” Mark leaned between the columns. “She has her tongue down the pool boys throat again.” Emmy handed the camera up to him. “We’re here to get evidence after all.”
48 words – 276 characters For Twittering Tales Click the link for rules and to read more
Martin surveyed the grotesque display in front of him. He didn’t want to risk angering his captor, “It’s an interesting chair.”
“Chair? Marty, my boy, look again. This is a throne.”
The man in full tuxedo and a plastic raincoat strutted around with a slight giggle on the tip of his tongue. “Do you know how many hands this took?”
“I …” Martin’s voice trembled.
His captor caressed Martin’s long fingers. “I’ve always admired yours. They’re the perfect centerpiece. The essential finishing touch, if you will.” His hacksaw rested on Martin’s wrist. “Shall we begin?”
Word Count: 99 For the 99 word challenge at Carrot Ranch. Fact: This was inspired by Amelia Bedelia
Verdant – RDP word of the day Music – Dirty Three – Self titled
Luscious. Fertile. Sasha’s garden was everything Mari could never inspire in her own. Her belly too, round with verdant life in a way Mari would never know.
Obsession. Jealousy. Rage in Mari’s veins blossomed as she feigned excitement for Sasha’s burgeoning life. Sasha’s roses brought home awards. Her daffodils sailed into a spotlight all their own. The baby kicked while she laughed on.
Inspired. Alone. Mari took to a rusted axe in order to get the job done.
I forgot to time myself but I intended to aim for 5 minutes to start. This probably took about that long.
“I’ve read every last one.” “That one?” Shari nodded to the oldest book in the pile. “My favorite, it has every spell possible, even one to bring back the dead.” “Wow.” Shari knew the guy was a fruit loop. “I should get going.” “So soon? But I’ve been waiting for you for eons.”