Loneliness

I wrap the blankets around

me tighter

to fight the cold

slithering in,

 unannounced. 

I look to the sky

but there are no

stars to watch

over me as I sleep. 

My bed is empty

with no body to keep me warm. 

When Love Dies, part 1

I sat down to write a ghost story set in a theatre, but when I started writing, this came out. With a title and everything. I'm not sure how long it will be or if I will finish it, but I will post the segments here as they seem fit. All of the segments (chapters?) are rather short, but if this does become a novel, I would prefer the chapters to be short. But we'll see how it turns out.

Effie glared at her own reflection, tugging at the blouson dress that was somehow simultaneously too big and too small. Tearing off the dress, she looks around the dressing room, completely littered with all the dresses she died on of varying sizes and styles––none of them worked.

As she looks at the disarray, looking for when last glimmer of hope, she sees herself in the mirror, unclothed. She always felt too short, but her legs are rather nice and are pretty long, except they're always scattered with mysterious bruises. She turns her focus to her stomach, stretch marks entwine together from her hips to her naval, like ivy rebelliously growing up the side of a building, from all the weight she gained in college; her belly hangs down to her pelvis, no matter how many crunches or planks she gets up in the morning to do. Her boobs are ok, a bit too big, but at least, thanks to her mother's insistence to always wear a bra, they are rather perky for their size. But, she has no butt.

Thanks to these dimensions, Effie can never find clothes that don't make her look either frumpy or slutty. She can never go shopping without crying in the dressing room.

And here she cries again.

Before the tears start to roll, leaving all the garments she tried on in the dressing room, she runs out of the department store.

Not a lot can make Effie cry––crying never turned out well for her as a kid, so, after years of getting her hair pulled and arms covered in bruises, she learned to release that negative energy in ways other than tears. However, even fear of body injury could never cure her anxiety and when that got out of control, the tears would flow. Still, she could never let anyone see her cry.

She managed to run home before it poured.

1000 Apologies

You always hurt 

the ones you love

Truer words have never

been spoken. 

But if you love

me, why do you hurt 

me? Why did you make feel

Worthless. 

Used. 

Ugly. 

Unimportant. 

Did I hurt 

you? Make you feel

like I feel?

If I did I owe you

1000 apologies. 

No one

deserves to feel

like this. 

No one

deserves to be treated

like nothing. You

were my stars

my moon

my everything 

And you broke

my heart. 

Shattered

it to pieces. 

Then you picked

up every piece

one by one

and put it

back together

So you could break

it all over again. 

We did this dance 

for two moons

Only two

But it felt

like 1000. 

1000 moons

spent together

in each other's arms. 

I was so content 

in your embrace. 

I felt complete.

You made me 

So happy

I've never felt

this way before 

and I've never

been this hurt. 

You built me up 

to break me down. 

I can't forgive you. 

But I will. 

Raped In The Face

He loved me
That's what he said
But why did he say those things?
Those hurtful things
I just feel
Like I've been
Raped in the face

Embroidery of Our Love

There was a void
in my soul
That nothing could fill

I tried and I tried and I tried
nothing could fill
The hole

And then I found you
the perfect size
To fill the gap

Your soul was sewn
into mine
The embroidery of our love

But when you left
you ripped the stitching
Pulling with it a piece of me

Now what's left
is a cavern
Only you can occupy

Prompt #26

From 303 Writing Prompts (in no particular order)

Write a dialogue-only conversation between two people where each line of the dialogue is no more than five words. Fill and entire page with it.

"Can I ask you something?"
"What is it?"
"Well, um...nevermind."
"No, come on. Ask it."
" No, it––it doesn't matter."
"I promise I won't laugh."
"That's not it. It's stupid."
"You stupid? Impossible. Just ask."
"I was just wondering..."
"Yes...?"
"Why d'you even like me?"
"What?"
"You're so perfect."
"No––"
"What could you possibly see––"
"Stop that!"
"But it's true. You're loved."
"So are you."
"No, I'm awkward and weird."
"So am I."
"But it's endearing on you."
"It is on you, too."
"No, I'm unappealing."
"That's definitely not true!"
"It is! Everyone hates me."
"I love you!"
"But why? How?"
"Just know I love you."
"But––"
"That's all that matters."

Prompt #4

From 303 Writing Prompts (in no particular order)

Start with the word "dizzy" and immediately write water word or phrase comes to you. Let your mind free associate through stream-of-consciousness thinking as you once again write whatever comes to you based on what you just wrote. Let the words or phrases our out of your brain and onto the page, one triggering the next. Do not filter anything. Continue until you fill a whole page. If a word or phrase should prompt a story, run with it.

Dizzy Miss Lizzy swears by the taxi she took to the museum with Jeffrey one sunny winter morning.

Upon arriving she was taken aback with the beauty of the world. She marveled at the tools used by the ancient beings of her kind, of Jeffrey's kind.

How could they have used such primitive devices and still function as a society? Does any society actually function? Or does everyone just live their own lives and hope for the best? The best for whom? Society or themselves? I think striving for your personal best is most important but is that what is detrimental to society. Lizzy wonders to herself.

She remembers when she first awoke. Everything became new and fresh again. Like she had never experienced any of these mundane, ordinary things. Washing dishes. Brushing teeth. Getting dressed. It was all so magical.

But nothing was as magical as the first time she looked up at the night sky after awakening. The moon was large and lit up the entire village, though it was cloudy. She could see only a few stars but each of them shined and twinkled in a way that was unique to each ball of burning gas.

Jeffrey looked at her questioningly. She was staring off into blank space, no longer seeing the ancient artifacts. He was worried. This was not like her. She had been acting so differently lately.

Ever since that car accident, she never seemed the same. He wondered if she did die that night, like the paramedics first though, and her body became occupied with a different soul. One that had been wandering Earth, neither ethereal or corporeal, waiting for the moment to awaken.