smason198
The smell of peppers was hanging in the air- a spicy reminder of why we were here. We assessed the damage and looked at each other, knowing full well that this fire had not been an accident. The kitchen was gone. All of my fruits and vegetables, grown with my own hands and sweat, were burned and smoldering.
There is a sound like a tap and a scrape, as she pulls out the frosted glass stopper. Pouring slowly, the wine smells warm and spicy. She reaches with long white fingers, into the folds of her dress. A bottle, very small, glints in the dim light of the kitchen.
So I'm standing there waiting for my bags to come out at the airport, and this guy walks up to me and says, "Hey, wake up!" He walks away. Then this lady bumps into me and she says, "You are in a coma, dear." I'm starting to freak a little and then suddenly there is this little girl and she pulls on my jacket and looks up at me with these giant brown eyes. "None of this is real," is what she says. What!? What the hell is going on? And then... I woke up.
step to it! the stairway to heaven. Step it up, work harder. There are 12 steps. But there is also a 13th step. Steps are stone or wood or concrete or carpeted or figurative.
Oh man what a word. What a convoluted feeling of not wanting to smoke, or wishing that you did not do something that you do anyway. What is it, about the mind and the strength of will, that hitches in the middle when you puff your first and last?
There are so many things
She needs to do
Today
She thinks about them
As she watches out the window
The rain is drizzling down
Steaming as it hits the pavement, rising
Back into the air
She sips
At her coffee
Maybe tomorrow
She was in the car behind us as the funeral procession made it's slow and winding path through the cemetery. I wondered what she would be wearing- something scandalous I'm sure. I craned my neck back and tried to see through her through the back window but her car's were tinted. I wondered, as I had been wondering for 5 years now, what my father saw in her. It didn't matter, I supposed, with my father laying in the mahogany casket, bumping along on his way to be buried in the wet ground.
After the fight, Brutus looked down at his fallen opponent.
"You fight like a child," he said. "You will learn to fight like a man, or you will die before next Autumn."
Arian looked up through a bloody haze, gathering his wits.
"I will crush you under my boot-heel before the Summer heat arrives," he said. "You will never defeat me again." He spat out a jagged, broken tooth. "You have taken too much from me already, Brutus. I refuse to let you take my pride."
"Ah, but I think it's a bit a too late for that, isn't it?" Brutus laughed, a bellowing sound, and the bystanders laughed along with him.
I waited for him to get home from work, feeling silly and anxious with my nakedness under the sheets. I wanted him to love me. I wanted him to make love to me. I knew that he didn't want me that way, but I felt that I could change his mind, if he would only give me a chance.
Antlers are worn on the forefront of the head and are pointed outwards in order to poke the opponent. Whomever pokes their opponent with the most force, wins.
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writing since 2010 · 65 entries · 63 days shown up
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