vish
He laid a hand on her stomach. It was still soft, as he had always remembered it, but he knew that a cyclone churned underneath. The free radicals she'd been exposed to during her work had permeated her bloodstream, and now even opening her eyes was a challenge. He lowered his head, closed his eyes, and sighed. The best he could wish for her now was a quick death.
They all turned and stared at me for a moment, beginning to recognize that I wasn't a circus performer. I'd have to talk fast or they would probably kick me out. I also knew she was probably the kind of girl who got a lot of attention from men... The best way to win her over would be to nonchalant -- that'd sidetrack her.
"I heard you talking about recipes," I said, "and I just wanted to tell you about my mom's delicious, secret recipe for apple pie."
They looked interested, expecting me to go on.
I got my chance when the crowd began dissipating after the finale. It was magnificent -- there were fireworks, lasers... the works. But I was still watching the girl.
I had to sneak around for a bit, staying long after everyone in the audience had been shepherded out of the circus. I walked around, pretending to be one of them, pretty much blindly searching for her before I finally found her, sitting cross-legged on the ground with a group of other circus women, exchanging recipes they'd like to try out once they got home. I stepped forward and said hello.
I couldn't help it -- I closed my eyes, laid my head on the grass, and went back in time again.
What was it that drew me to her first? I'll be honest. It was her lithe, athletic body, maneuvering through every circus obstacle and trick like they were all just child's play. But, captured in her graceful theatrics, I could see her personality shining through. She was the kind of person who loved life and everything it had to offer. I decided I had to find her after the show was over.
I was tempted to go, but I felt drained. Even lifting my fingers slightly was exceedingly difficult, and going to a circus, surrounded by the flashing lights and dancing people and silly clowns seemed impossible. But I forced myself to get up, get dressed, and get out the door.
I pulled out my old journal, a heavy, leatherbound book that I had scrawled all my memories on -- memories of the times I'd shared with her, suspended in time with the strokes of my trusty old ballpoint pen.
I sighed and collapsed backwards onto the grassy field, crushing a few flowers as I landed. The sky above was a pretty azure, spotted with a handful of dusty white clouds. It was really a perfect day. I only wished I had someone to share it with.
"Goddamnit!" she screamed at herself in the mirror. A few other women in the bathroom turned to stare at her, but quickly returned to their own business. Her eye makeup -- the elaborate layering of eyeliner and eye shadow -- had gotten smeared and blotched all over her face when she started crying. This would take ages to fix.
The hunter's green clothing was in tatters by the time he walked through the door of his house. Collapsing on the floor, he held up the grisly trophy of the evil wolf's paw for all to see. His wife rushed over to him, trying to tend to his wounds, but he shrugged off the help and stood up by himself, releasing a manly roar from his lungs that shook the house to its very foundation.
The gentleman, dressed in a dark navy suit and armed with a cane, top hat, and monocle, made his way through the town. Unperturbed by the suffering and decay around him, he maintained his respectable demeanor effortlessly, tipping his hat at other gentlemen and ladies as he passed by them.
load more entries
writing since 2010 · 122 entries · 121 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means vish showed up.
8longest streak
121days written
1.4entries / week
the words vish reaches for
wordeyesmindheadnowmomentbegantablebeautifulbitsittingsighedtablessoundgroundhome