Heart.

You poke prod and play.

I feel it.

All I do is feel
Just feel it
That’s all
All I feel like I can do
All I want to
Do.

But now I hold it towards you
Bringer it closer than before
To pretend to have control
As you toy with what is sacred.

I know what I want.
I know what I need.
I know what I deserve.
Still,
I let this cloud my mind and
Poison my judgement.

I wish I said these things to you
I have of the agency of my own mind

Of my own voice

But I choose not to use them.
Instead I return
Over and over
Letting your inexpiable amusement
Tear it slowly
Meticulously
Dangerously

To my own demise.

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She’s Coming

Every week, Priceless Joy over at Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers provides a photo prompt for participants to write a 100-150 word piece based on the photo. My submission for this week’s prompt comes in a little over at 169 words.

dog
Thanks to Yinglan for this week’s prompt!

 

It was his daily mantra. His optimistic hope never wavering.

This is the day. I can feel it.
This is day we will leave. This is the day we will go Home.
It’s been three years since our new Human started taking care of us. I know she loves us as do her younglings, our joy, but our loyalty belongs to our first Human. Today is the day she will return for us.
I can smell it in the air. Today we will finally be reunited. She will come.

Cynthia paused, caught in emotion. She wondered what Bailey was thinking peering from behind the fence. She couldn’t help but think his expectant and hopeful look was not for her but for Desiree. Exactly three years today, that fire had changed everything.
Despite her sorrow, Cynthia had poured so much love into these dogs.

After all, they were her last connection to her dead sister.

Twenty Minutes: A Response to the Stanford Rape Case

In twenty minutes,
You could walk a mile.
In twenty minutes,
You could mix up the ingredients for a cake.
In twenty minutes,
You could finish the essay portion of the SAT.
In twenty minutes,
You could learn a new mathematical formula.
In less than twenty minutes,
You could pull a child from a burning building,
Forever being known to the family as a hero.
In less than twenty minutes,
You could give a graduation address,
Forever being known as your class’s valedictorian.
In less than twenty minutes,
You could pull a gun trigger for the first time,
And end someone’s life for the first time.
In less than twenty minutes,
You could deliver a sentence
That takes into account the life of the attacker more than the life of the victim.
In less than twenty minutes,
You could play this ridiculous blaming game,
In which you blame everything and everyone except the person who is at fault.
In less than twenty minutes,
You could call this a mistake, a misstep, an unfortunate happening, a misunderstanding
You could call it anything but rape.
In twenty minutes…
You could have action…
Just twenty minutes of action
In which you take advantage of an unconscious woman
In which you make a decision that ruins her life
In which you decide your own desires trump her inability to consent
In which you rape a woman
In just twenty minutes of action,
You could sexually assault a woman,
And forever earn the right to be labeled a sex offender.
In just twenty minutes of action…
In just twenty minutes of rape.
For just twenty minutes of rape,
You deserve much more than six months in jail.

Turned to Grey

Black and white; sharp and pristine
Until tears cloud them into a grey scene.

From a distance, unavoidable beauty does the portrait hold.
Edging closer, emotions sparked, double-takes, and some fakes
Initial awe diminished.

“‘Tis hideous!”
Easy to say
Unless you know the artist
And your pride is washed away.

Nodding in accordance
Judging from afar
But when it’s your turn
Your whole life is ajar.

Make her a dove
Make him a dove
They are doves
Nothing is evil.

Your lady is a dove
Your man is a dove

Why sting the dove?
How could anyone hurt the dove?
Could one actually bite the dove?

The other was evil.

A portrait, a painting, whatever art may be remaining
Unblurred beauty and lines, easy to see
One drop of emotion
And everything turns to grey.

Six Word Stories: Superfluous

This was my entry for last week’s Six Word Story Contest by Sometimes Stellar Storyteller.

The prompt was superfluous which means unnecessary, especially through being more than enough (I had to look it up so just in case!)

 

And my submission was: Profuse apologies— spoken at his funeral.

Six Word Stories: Anticipation

This is my entry for Sometimes Stellar Storyteller’s Six Word Story Challenge. The prompt was “Anticipation.”

 

She reread his last text everyday.

FFfAW: A Special Signal

Every week, Priceless Joy over at Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers provides a photo prompt for participants to write a 100-150 word piece based on the photo. My submission for this week’s prompt comes in a little over at 162 words.

 

Capture
Thanks to Sonya at Only 100 Words for this week’s photo prompt.

I glance down at the photograph, just to double check. This is it. This is where we will set up.
It’s a funny looking water tower, isn’t it? But that’s why it’s perfect. Nobody will be bothering this secluded area anytime soon.

Carl estimated that we’d need the signal to run for at least twenty years. He’s so sure this will contact them. I hope he’s right. We’ve put so much time into this project.

Receiving a response is what will truly define our idea of success. But twenty years to reach them…then how many more till they reach us? Perhaps my daughter will be the one to make first contact. I hear her giggle behind me. The team was hesitant to let my toddler join us, but if this is going to be a big part of her life, I want her here from the start.

Who knows? Maybe when extra-terrestrials visit Earth, Maya will be the one to greet them.

Flash Fiction: The Bicycle

Every week, Priceless Joy over at Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers provides a photo prompt for participants to write a 100-150 word piece based on the photo. My submission for this week’s prompt comes in at exactly 150 words.

dont-cry-because-its-over-smile-because-it-happened-2
This week’s photo is from pixabay.com

To be honest, she was surprised no-one had stolen it yet.

It’d been a week.
They told her what had happened.
She refused to accept it.

As long as the bicycle leaned against his wall, there was a chance he’d step down those stairs and ride it over to her house, like he did every Tuesday and Thursday. He’d bring a daisy, stolen from Mrs. Bernman’s front yard, but when he’d give it to her, it’d feel like he’d bought her a bouquet of red roses. They’d talk over the dinner that one of them made. Life was looking up; there was potential in their future. Her work was going well. His job was coming through. Then they’d talk about staying together. The love in their hearts so strong it ignored the pains of their situations. They would never leave one another.

His bicycle was still there. He wasn’t dead.

Short Story Sunday: The Gift

Now I know that I will not be posting a short story every Sunday, but hey it sounds cool in the title. This is a little something I wrote a little under two years ago. In the spirit of the upcoming holidays (and *cough*the fact that I haven’t been posting much of late *cough*), I thought I’d share it with all of you. Enjoy!




 

The Gift

 “Here,” he whispered, softly placing the box in her palm.

She looked at him through her teary eyes, “But…”

“Shhh…” he said placing a finger to her lips. “I don’t want to make this any harder.” Gently he wiped her tears and tousled her hair, longing and a hint of regret in his eyes. Finally, he pressed his lips against hers, softly, gently. He looked downwards as he turned away.

She watched him sadly as he walked off. This was the last time she would ever see him. She clenched the box in her hand, crinkling the wrapping paper as waves of emotions flowed over her. Sadness, loneliness, despair, and anger. It wasn’t fair! No, life was never fair, was it? She let the tears flow freely, now that he could no longer see her.

Days later, she would finally find the courage to open the box. The object inside — his final gift to her — she would cherish forever.

Six Word Stories: Betrayal

Ben at A Hopelessly Wandering Mind has offered a new prompt for this week’s Six Word Story. The prompt is betrayal.

My submission is:

One sultry smile changed his heart. 

Thanks to clipartqueen for this image.
clipartqueen.com