sacwriter
Standing in the room, eyes measuring my every step, I walk with my internal eyes on the book. The only goal is to put step after step perfectly placed, perfectly balanced, perfectly aligned with my spine so these ladies can know I am a girl of distinction.
He got so close that he could taste the garlic on her breath. She saw that he was well-groomed, industrious and not easily pleased. Her internal radar knew that he was a one-month relationship; nothing more. She passed him by and went for the guy wearing a t-shirt with a picture of "Where's Waldo" on it. That had promise.
The last of the three sat in the shade, pulling up the hood on his cloak and putting it down. The sunlight blurted through the tree above his head. Does he chance one meeting with his executioner. His skin felt bubbly the more he thought about it.
He stood among the lost and wondered why they were staring at him. Then he remembered he had told each of them a different tale, making himself the leader and showing his wonderful, if imaginary, qualities for all to see. There are many responsibilities with each tale.
This word sits unused in a bin, like a black and white television. Who uses postage when we can wing our thoughts to the end of the earth with a button click or a mouse flick?
The cry in the darkness is more than one syllable. "Help" resonates with the little child in all, screaming for the outside the rescue something in us that needs this 'help'.
writing since 2010 · 6 entries · 6 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Mike showed up.
1longest streak
6days written
0.4entries / week
the words Mike reaches for
stepperfectlyhelptaleinternaleyescrydarknesssyllableresonateschildscreamingoutsiderescuewordsits