Posted in Word Prompt

Dough Boy

I haven’t done a stream of consciousness write in a long time. I didn’t time this one.

If you haven’t read these before. This is a stream of conciousness write with very little editing (so apologies for anything that doesn’t make sense). I pick a prompt, usually a word of the day, turn on some music and just write whatever comes to my head for a set time (usually 10 minutes).

Music: Ghostpoet
Daily words: Image and Dough.

I’ve never seen anything like it.

It’s lips curve downwards and it’s nose hooks right under those skeptical eyes. Made in your image but it’s not you.

It’s soft and stretchy, moist and sticky. Strings of dough stretch from one lip to the other as it mocks my humanoid appearance. 

A spark forms in my belly and spreads like wildfire. Before I realize the scope of my ideas, my limbs begin acting. My legs carry me forth, my arms swing out wildly. My fingers pinch at its doughy arms, pulling away long pieces and tossing them into the endless span of existence below us. 

They can’t work fast enough, its sticky being pulls at the hairs on my arms and legs. Doughy fingers work their way through my hair, ripping me back. 

I could try to frantically escape but something tells me this is like quicksand. It envelops me. Moist strings pry into my mouth, holding my tongue and filling my lungs. 

You are dreaming. You are dreaming.

My jerking body flings onto the floor. Pizza boxes scatter and cower from my cries. 

I’m alive. 

A stray pepperoni sticks to the bridge of my nose. A menacing reminder encroaching on my vision. 

Maybe I’ll lay off the pizza.

Posted in friday fictioneers

Like A Barbie – Friday Fictioneers

“Do you think it’s fake?” Shanna focused on the neon green moving in the breeze.

Dena’s eyes focused beyond the grass on one Ms. Leroy. She was tall, blonde and, as their mom said, “100% plastic”.

“Like a barbie.” Dena whispered.

Shanna tilted her head while staring at the stiff blades. No matter how she turned, tilted or squinted the grass looked nothing like a barbie.

“I don’t see it.”

Dena grabbed at her non-existent chest.

“But don’t you see? One day I’ll have some just like that.”

“Are you sure?” Shanna never thought her sister liked plants all that much.

ronda-del-boccioPHOTO PROMPT © Ronda Del Boccio

Friday Fictioneers courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Word Count: 100