• Trista commented on the post, turtle 1 month, 2 weeks ago

    Most people come to the pond to watch the swans. I prefer the turtles. They peek their little heads up out of the water for an instance or two, than they dip back down. They give you just a taste and leave you wanting more. The swans and ducks are needy, greedy, and they alway try to steal your food.

  • Trista commented on the post, hapless 6 months, 2 weeks ago

    16 years ago I did a very foolish thing: I fell in love. A hapless victim of wishful thinking, I quickly got consumed by the fire of that first love. It was a fire that would rage on and on, that is until 6 months ago when he left me. Its funny, when we use to live in this beautiful city, I remember the choppy water looking blue, today its pitch black.

  • Trista and Savvy-Jo are now friends 6 months, 2 weeks ago

  • Trista commented on the post, occupancy 6 months, 2 weeks ago

    It was a single occupancy room and it was pretty basic. There was a ratty old bed with a blue comforter on top, a wooden table peppered by old cigarette burns, a tv with the remote superglued down to the table, a shower that leaked and a Bible. Nothing to get excited about. In fact, for most folks the sight of this room would of sparked nightmares. For Angela, the room was beautiful.

  • Trista commented on the post, emperor 6 months, 3 weeks ago

    Emperor of the farm. That is what the Rooster thought he was. He ruled the land, telling everyone when to wake and when to sleep. Even the humans listened to him. Little did he know, that when hard times fell upon the Crinshaws, they would have no qualms about cooking the Rooster up for sunday supper. And, as they tend to do, hard times came a calling one cloudy day in May. If only the Rooster had listened to the hen and ran away.

  • Trista commented on the post, confide 7 months, 1 week ago

    They confided in each other. Two total strangers one dark and stormy night. He told her of the man he thought he once killed, and she told him of her wicked affair. Her hair burned wild red in the smoke filled bar, and his eyes held the darkness of a burden bared for far to long. When the clock struck 12, the two parted ways never to see each other again. But they both felt a little bit better, knowing that someone knew.

  • Trista commented on the post, starlit 7 months, 1 week ago

    She had dreamed of this day her whole life. She was now a starlit. The lights flashed in her face, the masses screamed her name. There had been a price to pay to get to where she now was. Him. She had lost him. Most of the time she didn’t think fame was worth the sacrifice, but in moments like this she knew she was where she should be. She belonged to the world and the world was her oyster. But oh did he use to smell so good…

  • Trista commented on the post, native 7 months, 3 weeks ago

    The native felt out of place in his own home. It was now littered with odd creamy white faces, all shiny and sweaty in the sun. They are arrived on ships decked out in stars and stripes. “We come in peace,” they said. It didn’t take long to realize that their definition of peace and his were quite different.

  • Trista commented on the post, beaming 7 months, 3 weeks ago

    The bride was beaming. Of course she was, she was bride. What no one noticed, was the other person who was beaming. Beaming with something other then happiness. The brides sister. Lost in a green haze of hate of jealousy, she couldn’t wait to get her little sisters big day over with. For some people good things happen, for others, they just don’t.

  • Francesca changed their profile picture 8 months ago

  • Trista commented on the post, bourbon 8 months, 1 week ago

    The streets were washed in bourbon that day. Fat Tuesday, a day to remember for most, and a day to try to forget for a few. For him it was still to be determined, but for her it was the later.

  • Trista commented on the post, wheelchair 8 months, 1 week ago

    it squeaked. The God forsaken thing squeaked every time he turned the wheel. How had this become his life? He was a top runner at one point and how he was a squeaking wheel chair bound decrepit man.
    “That sounds like a sweet little mouse” said the young girl. He looked at her. She was dressed in the birthday cake hospital gown. Her wheel chair covered in stickers, and her face filled with a bright smile, despite its sickly pallor.
    it squeaked. This wonderful chair squeaked every time he turned the wheel. He made the dying child smile… and found peace himself.

  • Trista commented on the post, tracking 8 months, 1 week ago

    The deer was oblivious to the hunter tailing him. The hunter was tracking him with true precise, staying far enough not to startle. the rusher into the forest they got the further away from reality seemed to go. At first the hunter had been sure he would kill his prey, eat it for dinner on a cold cold day. But as the deer danced and pranced the hunter grew fond of the delicate animal. HIs tracking quickly ebbed into observation and his stomach grumbled.

  • Trista commented on the post, leveled 8 months, 3 weeks ago

    The building she had grown up in was nothing but a pile of ash and ruble now. It had been leveled to by the demolition company just minuets prior right in front of her very eyes. Oddly enough, all she felt as she watched the walls come tumbling down was an immense amount of relief. “closer” she thought to herself before she twisted on her heels and walked away, leaving the mess for the birds to sift through. She was moving on.

  • Trista commented on the post, commissioned 9 months ago

    She had to make the art work even though she didn’t want to. When the prince of Saudi Arabia asks for a painting you don’t say no. Never mind the fact that she has never painted a picture in her life. She was a writer not an artist. He just wanted to get in her pants. Fine, she thought. If he wants a painting, he will get a painting, as she rubbed paint over her breast and pushed them onto the white canvas, an evil smirk appearing upon her face.

  • Trista commented on the post, typhoon 9 months, 2 weeks ago

    I was standing there looking out over the oily silver water. It churned and gurgled 200 feet below me. It was a force I could not resist, something inside of it was pulling me in. I was going to jump. It was time, everything in my life had lead me to this moment. There was nothing left for me. I closed my eyes and took one final gulp of the sharp salty air. I inched my toes over the edge and prepared to plunge to my death. And then the typhoon hit.

  • Trista commented on the post, planter 1 year, 4 months ago

    It sat on the back porch, dirty and rusted, collecting rain water. She had bought it with high hopes for embarking on a new start. A garden she thought, what fun. It was a short lived idea, a spark of motivation that quickly dwindled and died.

  • Trista commented on the post, growing 1 year, 7 months ago

    Inch by inch a child grows into a man. But it takes much more then biology for a man to grow into an adult. He was still a child hiding behind the camoufloug of a 3 piece suite, and a cocky grin.

  • Trista commented on the post, features 1 year, 7 months ago

    Blue gray eyes soft and telling. A small rounded nose. Skin with such pallor that it almost appeared translucent. Her features were special and beautiful, even as I gazed down upon them on the cold morgue table. She died much to young, but she affected more people then most 80 year olds have. And now it was his task to make her truly shine for her last show.

  • Francesca changed their profile picture 2 years ago