“It’s …”
“The ubiquitous silence maybe?”
“Is that why we’re whispering?”
“I guess …”
Trees stretched to the sky, blocking out all but scattered patches of fading sunlight. An absolute stillness settled over the forest cloaking it in a deep harrowing silence. Dina swallowed her breath, scared to draw the forests stoic attention towards the duo. Riza’s skin prickled against the percieved threat of quiet.
“Where are the birds?”
FOWC: Ubiquitous
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“Hey there hon, what would you like?”
Toki felt a rush of endorphins as her human counterpart, Katrina, took in the male in front of her. His teeth glistened unnaturally against his sun damaged skin.
“What are the options sweetheart?” His deeper voice sent shivers through Katrina.
Toki could barely think over the quickly increasing noise Katrina’s pounding heart made.
“Well, coffee, tea or me …” The sentence careened from confidence to shyness with the “me” barely whispered.
Why is her voice undulating into that sickly tone?
Blood rushed through Katrina’s viens, something Toki could also feel even if she’d rather not. The male’s smile stretched across his narrow face. He closed in on Katrina, grossly violating what Toki had learned were the human distancing requirements.
“Well, I know what I’ll choose.” His warm breath brushed by Katrina’s ear.
Toki hated these overwhelming sensations. The blood rushing around the body, the amount of noise it made, the varying heat sequences. Reading about it didn’t prepare her for the feelings associated with humanity. In just hours Katrina had taken Toki on a ride spanning the emotional bridge of humans. She cried, laughed, yelled and hit every point in between.
Toki feared this male was going to push her into even more uncomfortable territory.
His fingers slide down Katrina’s back. Her giggle made Toki’s skin crawl. Of course, Toki was borrowing Katrina’s skin for now. Small bumps spread in waves over Katrina’s arms and neck.
How does humanity exist like this?
It was less than 24 hours in and Toki was exhausted.
For Stream of Consciousness Saturday (SoCS)
I enjoyed this, it was nice to find a stream of consciousness prompt different than my usual word based one.
We aren’t born with murderous intentions.
Walter’s a good man. He would do anything for those he loves. He’d never hurt a fly.
That’s what I hate the most. I need someone with a spine, someone not afraid to push back and knock me around.
I clutch the ladder until my knuckles go white. In my mind I can see Walter tumbling head first two stories down.
My muscles tense, ready to rip the ladder from under his feet.
“Honey, I don’t really need you to spot me. Can you get my toolkit?”
I relax, my fingers loosen.
“Sure thing.”
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I could think about what we’d done but what good would it do?
Everyone is just here for the main act.
Liquor and beer rain overhead as the crowd surges to the music. Food from the buffett Matt so graciously supplied disappears.
Buffett a la Matt, we called it.
After all, it was what he wanted, to be recycled, given back to the Earth.
“Have you tried these meatballs?!” The guy stumbles then graces the ground with undigested chunks.
Matt meant cremation, we know, but times are tough. Eventually his remains will make it there.
This is just a detour.
I’m sorry, I do not know how my brain got here.
Word Count 100
For Friday Fictioneers
Emily laid the picture over her lap. “What’s this?”
“Paris! Isn’t it lovely?” Emily traced the eiffel tower with a trembling hand.
“It’s yours?”
Jenna motioned towards Emily’s wall, a homage to landscapes and skylines all over the world she wished to visit. “Yours.”
“You think I’ll really see it one day?” In her years of nursing, Jenna had never met a child as determined as Emily.
“I really do.” Emily nodded her approval as she yawned.
“I’ll dream about it first.” Emily sank into her bed. A mess of hair peeked from underneath her blankets.
Slowly, she slipped away.
Word Count: 100
For Friday Fictioneers
Elias slipped his sleeve over his fingers and rubbed the window. In his dreams he was a master treasure hunter traveling the globe in search of the “the big one”.
Through patchy fog Elias could see a rainbow arching into the harbor.
He picked at the fuzzy bunny knitted onto his shirt while thinking the plan through.
Getting to the harbor was easy, his parents wouldn’t be mad if he looked both ways when he crossed the street.
The boats would start leaving soon. One of them would take him to the rainbow’s end.
Elias had no time to waste.
Word Count: 100
For Friday Fictioneers
Joe showed up drunk, still clutching a fifth to his chest.
Hattie wrinkled her nose.
“The great hometown hero.”
Sam wore an unholy combination of rotten fish and garbage for cologne.
“It’s been a long night.”
“What did you guys do?”
“Oh, just me. I don’t know where he’s been.”
Hattie refused to see this get away.
“Help me get him up. We’re heroes and I’m not going to let our group get embarrassed like ths.”
“I’ve been up all night fighting crime.”
“Ok.” Hattie tossed the rope into his waiting hands. “We’ve got tug o’ war to win.”
Word Count: 99
For Carrot Ranch Micro Fiction challenge
This virus thing has been a little bit crazy. I hope everyone is coping with the upended routines and staying safe and healthy!
The shape of love is a funny thing.
Sometimes it’s car doors and raised voices or explosive seconds dragging into minutes.
It can be square like steps paced around the room or the set of your shoulders backlit by old headlights.
Sometimes it’s a circle, the ember at the end of your cigarette glowing a steady red.
It can scatter, dandelion seeds escaping on the wind.
Sometimes it’s no shape at all, a blur existing only in our inner eye, a memory we try to understand.
Sometimes it’s long with strides at a gallop as it slides away.
It can fade, short days into the longest nights and remerge, clouds parting for light.
Sometimes it’s grainy, dirt under your nails and a mouth full of mud, or sinister like a pistol at your back.
It can be oblong, a pill too big to swallow, or slow flowing murky water.
I’m not sure the shape of this love but it hurts nonetheless.
“True love is destiny.”
Juli had no time for old fashioned nonsense. Maybe “destiny” helped her grandmother but that was before the digital age. Everything was different now.
Juli’s Romeo appeared in the background of a viral video. The moment he smiled, she knew.
She scoured the internet, hoping to give “destiny” a helping hand. The research was painstaking but every bit was worth it.
He worked in front of his open window nightly, 9 PM sharp. The fountain, he penned, gave him endless inspiration.
Juli sat on its marbled edge, waiting. Any moment now, he would realize his “destiny”.
Word Count: 100
For Friday Fictioneers!
“Time travel works like a ride, all about momentum. We set the chosen time as your center point, you see that perfectly. Everything towards the edges …”
The tech shrugged but George was unconcerned.
“Remember the rules, no touchy, no changey, don’t slow down.”
With that George was off, whipping through time and space. His childhood home came into view. He could see his father, hands around the neck of the only man George ever loved.
He had done the math. George knew just how much he could afford to slow and, after all, rules were meant to be broken.
Word Count: 100
For Friday Fictioneers (on a Wednesday!)
