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Weekly Contest #286
You were staring at me with those eyes again. It was the look you got when you were working out a puzzle, searching for the piece that would fit, finding it, turning it, flipping it, and when it wasn’t fitting in, that wave of confusion that drifted across your face like a vapour. You looked at me that way through my whole life. All I wanted you to do was to look at me like you looked at David. I didn’t know I was missing something before David existed. It was good then. You cooked me breakfasts and read me books like Milly Mo...
Weekly Contest #255
What I might have done yesterday, and who I might have been may be different today as I sit in my leather chair in the trailer I call home thinking on these things, but those decisions are gone. They are made like the bed I lay in. I must let them go or for sure they will strangle me in the sheets my mind rolls around in. I don’t want to think of him, but I can’t help it, and sometimes my brain beats so fast I need to drink beer or wine or something to deaden the thoughts that will otherwise rip right out of my mind if not pushed into a...
Weekly Contest #253
Every muscle was taut and the sweat that had formed four hours before dripped, like melting icicles. Her shirt soaked through, the sheets soaked through, she began to shake. Knees knocked together, teeth chattered, her heart pulsed in her ears, a hundred horses running on a cobblestone street thundered past her eardrums. Lungs that had been panting moments before gave way to gasps as her heart wretched in her chest. Panic covered her like a cold pillow pushed against her face, she fought for breath under it as her mind reached up. Her though...
Weekly Contest #250
I knew the sound vibrating from your throat would pour like sand down mine. I knew my stomach would squeeze hunger when you closed the curtains on the day. I knew the walls would shriek when I saw you staring into your palm. I knew Henry would never fix it. The TV was on, and Barney was singing. The moan was back, and you stared deep into it. It was pressed in the middle of your palm, a red dot punched into skin by the tip of the knife you use to carve turkey on Christmas day. You were master of the blade and you stopped before the we...
Weekly Contest #240
If the wind would have whispered, ‘Give it to me’- and had whipped that page of my life from my hand and carried it to the clouds, I would not have chased after it. Invisible enmity, created by ill-spoken words, affixed themselves deep into my mind from that day forward. It become apparent that one, whose only sin was to be born beautiful, and the other, who would one day write about it, were loved differently by the world. The sharp tang of those blunt words, snapped against my skin. Its icy breeze bent me backward, and shackled who I was b...
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