Posted in flash fiction

Her Eyes (Or Untitled)

My eyes trace the same curves over and over, like paper never truly absorbing ink. Gentle folds of skin stand in contrast to stark bone.

She had been so … welcoming, so polite.

“Yes doctor, please, come in. A drink? Food? Of course, anything for you.”

Though she had nothing to give in the end, a couple of blackened lungs, a spoiled liver.

Her eyes, crystalline blue, I would have taken those.

Why did she have to turn it the way she did? It shouldn’t have come to those utterances of hers.

“I think you’re mistaken. I don’t think so. No.”

And in this world, a woman of her standard owning a gun?

My soul will rest easy, hers I’m not sure.

I clean my tools meticulously, disposing of the browning apple core, used condom and bloodied cloths in her make shift fire pit.

I collect the money, laid on her poorly made wooden table … beforehand … in plain sight.

The first sign of trouble.

“Of course I trust you doctor.”

Outside the madam keeps an eye on rowdy drunks. I pass her a handful of crumpled bills.

“Made a bit of a mess, might let her sleep.”

She tucks them away, her eyes never straying from the stumbling fools, never truly catching sight of me.

They never do.

I wrote this as homework for a writer’s meeting I went to. I’m not sure yet where it’s going or if it can go anywhere else. I imagine this character has a bit of wanderlust though.

Posted in Word Prompt

Smooth Like Silk – Repost

Today I continue with my probably somewhat annoying reposts of late … This one’s from June of 2016, probably one of the first things I posted on here. I’ve done a little touching up here and there but it remains mostly the same.

Smooth Like Silk

Just outside the sliding glass doors a bike rumbled to a stop. A man wrapped in leather and jean astride.

“Oh shit.” I peered from behind the counter as his helmet revealed dark curls and a wicked smile. I ducked behind the counter and watched him wander the aisles from between the sexist smutty magazines.

The gears in my mind grinded into overtime. Images of a secret prince in dark armor rescuing me from my tower overlapped with the sweet sound of Pink Floyd over the PA system.

“Um, hi.”

The deep voice pushed me back. In the process of nearly taking the magazine rack down with me packs of gum and escapee candy bars clattered to the ground.

“Hi.” My breath caught in my throat. I was face to face with the wicked smile. My cheeks burned as I caught a glimmer in those dark brown eyes. “Um.” I ring my hands behind my back. Wait, does this make it look like I’m trying to get him to look at … my eyes fell down towards my chest. I wrapped my arms around my torso instead. Stop being so fucking awkward!

His laugh brought me back from my mental beating. “Are you ok? I just need a pack of Marlboro.”

Fucking great. Now he’s laughing at me. “Uh, yeah, sure. What kind?” That smile. I leaned on the counter as my knees grew weak.

“Reds.” My eyes travelled down as he reached for his wallet. No! Don’t look there! But, if I turn to get the Reds he’ll see my ass. Does my ass look good today? I’m wearing those stupid baggy pants … Why don’t I buy skinny jeans like everyone else? “Uh, the reds are up there in the corner.”

“Oh …” I followed his gaze behind me. He’s not paying attention to you, he just wants the cigarettes. Quit being so fucking awkward! “Yeah. Uh, one pack?”

I fumbled with his money, change dripping between my fingers as I tried to maintain any shreds of dignity the mystery man wouldn’t be making off with.

That wicked smile again, “Thanks darlin.” His fingers stroked my hand as he grabbed the Marlboro’s. Did he just touch me? Like on purpose? Catatonic shock isn’t the normal reaction I’m sure but as my brain sputtered to put together anything that could have been missed in my bumbling interactions I felt myself shorting out.

Outside the bike rumbled awake. The heat receded from my cheeks. I dropped my head into my hands.

Wow. Fucking smooth.

Awkward

Posted in What Pegman Saw

What Pegman Saw – Not Shit

I’ve been all around the world chasing that little guy. Let me tell you a thing or two, the guys got some secrets.

Just wonder, a guy who’s been spotted just about everywhere on god’s green earth? Why else would you hop from continent to continent like that?

Just ask him what went down at the Billinudgel Hotel between that Mr. and his wayward Mrs. Took them forever to clean the place up after … I don’t know what Mr. Pool-boy had been eating but it definitely stained the ceiling. The Mr. remained calm, even had a beer while Mr. Pool-boy’s pieces …

Well, maybe he won’t tell, that makes him an accomplice.

Maybe they pry it from the bastards dying lips so he’s an eye witness.

Either way, come a little closer, I’ll tell you something real.

Pegman didn’t see shit.

And me? It’s my job to keep it that way.

wps-billinudgel-hotel-coming-of-age-180408

Word Count: 150

This is my first try at the What Pegman Saw challenge. I’ve seen a few other bloggers I follow participating and it seems interesting. Every week there’s a new place, based on Google street view. This week’s destination is The Billinudgel Hotel, NSW, Australia.

You can find rules here and this weeks destination here.

 

Posted in Word Prompt

Liar That I Am

I’ve never wanted to hurt you …
Liar that I am.
I’ve never wanted to betray you …
Imperfect as I am.
I’ve only ever wanted to feel you …
Hold me in your arms again.
But I’m a liar,
A hopeless, frantic
Romantic.
Living out a fairy tale fantasy
Crashing through reality.
Finding truth
Under moss covered mystery.
Only to unveil fools gold
Where there should be
Great poets of old.
Forgive me my love
And my liars tongue.
We only wanted the
Fairy tale ending,
Sparing the real life bending.
Now I see,
One exists in the other
But my liars tongue
Can’t stop whispering rumor.
Forgive me love,
Liar that I am,
I was never the princess
In disguise.
Only a damsel
Trying to escape demise.

Posted in Word Prompt

I Can’t Keep Count

I almost didn’t post this because I feel like I’m getting kind of achy breaky hearty in my writing lately. I had a moment of “I should be more … positive, upbeat, happy, candle-lit dinners and walk on the beachy … whatever” but then I thought “no, this is what came out, this is what it is.” This blog, for me, is for more impromptu, practice/refining type writing so I’ve always told myself that what inspiration gets put out here is what it is.

WordPress Daily Prompt – Atmospheric

I can’t keep count
Of the moments
That have passed me by.
Each one sinking in like a hammer
To the heart,
Cracking the spirit,
Threatening to tear the soul.
It’s a mystery to me
Why I am pulled so.
Moments in time,
Easily forgotten.
But I can’t keep count
Of the dreams I have
Or the nights I lie awake
When I feel that stirring,
Churning and rising,
From the places I strained
To hide it.
I can’t keep count
Of the mysteries
You inspire in me;
Of the memories
You awaken in me,
Like ancient spirits
Springing forth,
Speaking a language
Cryptic and romantic.
Mostly I just can’t keep count
Of the moments
I wish you were here
With me.


Check out The Perfectly Imperfect Bunch, there are new posts for you to read!

Posted in Word Prompt

It’s Only April

WordPress Daily Prompt – Cloaked

The darkness cloaks some bullshit.

Mari stared at the paper.

The darkness cloaks some bullshit. There’s some fucking noise outside, a siren. It’s all bullshit.

She pressed her temples. She really didn’t want to fail this student but he had turned in papers like this all year. This was shaping up to be the most ridiculous one yet.

The darkness cloaks some bullshit. There’s some fucking noise outside, a siren. It’s all bullshit. The jackass took off through the back door about an hour ago. It took the god damn cops an hour to get here.

“Jesus, I’m going to need some wine.” Mari had sat this particular student down just a week ago and explained that he really needed to knock it out of the park on this paper. They made a deal that if he could make an A she would pass him in the class. He knew the material and Mari knew he could pass if made the effort but the effort seemed to be completely lost on him.

The darkness cloaks some bullshit. There’s some fucking noise outside, a siren. It’s all bullshit. The jackass took off through the back door about an hour ago. It took the god damn cops an hour to get here.  I’m trying to tell them to turn off the god damn siren. Little bro is in the back sleeping. Somehow I’m threatening and now I’m face down in the mud with some fat white fuck breathing down my neck about Miranda rights. 

Mari poured two glasses worth of a red blend into her glass. “Ok, let’s power through. This is the last one.”

The darkness cloaks some bullshit. There’s some fucking noise outside, a siren. It’s all bullshit. The jackass took off through the back door about an hour ago. It took the god damn cops an hour to get here.  I’m trying to tell them to turn off the god damn siren. Little bro is in the back sleeping. Somehow I’m threatening and now I’m face down in the mud with some fat white fuck breathing down my neck about Miranda rights. I’m trying to tell them it wasn’t me. Now little bro is awake and his footsteps are covered in fucking blood. Wanna see cops get real? Show them a four year old with bloody fucking footsteps. I tell them the jackass took off and who knows where he got to since it took them a god damn hour to get here. Little bro is crying in the backseat but they won’t let me sit with him because they want my alibi. Fuck them, I work two jobs and they can call my bosses to verify. Fat fucks. Little bro keeps asking why and you know what? I don’t fucking know. But I graduate this spring and I’m already eighteen. Thank fucking god, or whatever, mom had a will that named me legal guardian. Just give me an A Ms. Vargas. It’s been a long fucking year and it’s only April. 


Don’t forget to head over to our collaboration blog, The Perfectly Imperfect Bunch! We have beautiful poetry and wonderful insights to writing it this week