Tag Archives: #wdys

Out of Control

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Jona162 | Pixabay

Out of Control

Fast and furious, consumed by a fire intentionally set to burn out of control. For three weeks we ate, slept, and breathed each other, we couldn’t get enough. Leading us here, all hopped up on adrenaline and desire in a log cabin on the edge of nowhere.

It started with no expectations, just a chance meeting in that little coffee shop on West 92nd. She caught me staring at her as she flipped her head nonchalantly in my direction. Like a deer caught in the headlights, all I could do was shoot her a smile. It must have been something special because it pierced her heart with an accuracy that would have impressed Cupid. Before we could even process the tidal wave that engulfed us both, we were tangled in each other’s arms, like bramble left to grow wild.

It wasn’t just sex either, it was more. Visceral and at the same time intellectual. Intensely passionate yet soft and meandering. Physical yet vibrating on a higher plane.

But as fires burn they mellow. Without more fuel they fade and eventually the last embers blink out. I could have handled that, even anticipated sifting through the ashes but who could have foreseen its abrupt end? The ring of her phone sucking all traces of oxygen from the room. The flames extinguished in a suffocating instant.

I’m left to watch through the window as she sits like a ghost on the edge of the dock. I don’t know who called or what was spoken but as I watch her in the breeze, I can feel the moment slipping away. Dissolving into the landscape one grain at a time. By sunrise, she will be gone…

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Wounded

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Lidya Nada | Unsplash

Wounded

What they see is happy-go-lucky, not a care in the world. Like cool watermelon dripping down a child chin in the hot, noon day sun or ice cream filled evenings walking the state fair midway. A kaleidoscope of happy colours swirling around a perfect life.

If only they could see the tears behind the façade. Years of unhealed scars festering beneath the surface.  Small pieces if flesh taken with every new cut. Revealed in the only place it can’t be hidden, in the black of dead eyes nobody bothers to peer into.

Demons trapped and screaming to be released but like a wounded animal concealed from the predators circling. The world begging us to celebrate our weaknesses like a badge of honour. Sycophants waiting to pounce for their own benefit, but I will never reveal what’s eating away my insides, clawing to escape my control.    

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A Homecoming Story

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Neha Godbole | Unsplash

A Homecoming Story

John Ronald lay in bed struggling to breathe, each drag more laborious than the previous. He knew the end was near, his lungs were filling with blood and fluid faster than his body could work to clear them. Making peace with the inevitable, he closed his eyes and waited. His wife had long since crossed over and there was nothing left for him to hang on to in this world. His kids, standing at his side in these final moments, would get on just fine after he’d gone. They were supposed to outlive him anyway.

At ease, he began to drift. Aimless at first but soon he was riding the crest of a current pulling him toward the light. Moving faster as his life passed before him until he was immersed in the glow. Everything faded in an instant as he crossed the threshold. Nothing more than a brief flash before arriving in a small shire on the other side.

Drawing in a long easy breath, he surveyed his new, yet familiar surroundings. There was an energy about this place that bristled through the thick morning mist. Although he could only glimpse moments of movement through the scattering sunlight, the bustle of this place was evident. The inhabitants flitted and danced about their business, filling the sweetly scented air with joy, song and raucous laughter.

As the air cleared and the scene settled into focus a shoeless half-man in a green vest, grey shirt and potato sack pants stepped up next to him. The halfling paused, taking a moment to look out across the scene before them. Then scrunching up his face he spoke, “Welcome! Welcome, Mr. Tolkien, it is a pleasure to have you back in Hobbiton. Your place in the hillside is ready for you and as luck would have it, you are just in time for second breakfast.”

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Murder In the First

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Unknown

Murder In the First

The prosecutor began his summation with vigorous enthusiasm, “In a display of utter cowardice, Mr. Kutinitov plunged the blade he carried with him right down to the marrow. Splaying the victim, his estranged wife wide open.”

“Ask yourself why?” he continued. “Sure, she had set fire to everything, exposing his philandering ways and singeing his reputation almost beyond repair. Certainly a motive in and of itself but his reason was even more basic, greed. You see, he wanted the engagement ring back, her ring, the one he’d given her along with his promise 13 years earlier. He’d spent a small fortune to buy it and he knew it had only appreciated in value. You heard his jeweller confirm that he had been to the shop to inquire about it and shortly thereafter broke into the marital home.”

He paused for effect before driving home his final point, “When he came for the ring, she refused and swallowed it to keep him from taking it. She could not have known that she had become an unwitting accessory to compromising her own survival. Her death was not a crime of passion as portrayed by the defence, it may not have been premeditated but his reasons for being there were cold, calculated and planned. As such you must find the defendant guilty. You know what’s right, return a verdict of murder in the first degree.”

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Lost

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Polina Kuzovkova via Unsplash

Lost

For years the S.O.B. told me I had no sense of direction, the worst navigator he’d ever seen. How was it my fault he’d go left when I said right?

“Where is my breakfast, what did you get lost?” The prick used to tell me he was amazed I could find the kitchen in the mornings.

Being berated for my navigation skills was the easy stuff. He’d get absolutely incensed and take every opportunity to make me feel like I was six inches tall, worthless. I can assure you I had no trouble finding the rat poison he kept in the cellar. Extra Warfarin in his scramble to go with his prescription.

That was then, but as I attempt to jump a train to freedom I’m left wondering if I will ever be able to decipher this bloody map.

“Come on, come on!” It’s only a matter of time before they find the body. As panic grips me and everything comes flooding back, I begin to wonder, “Was he right?”

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Glass Slipper

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Tim Rebkavets via Unsplash

Glass Slipper

“…and on the left is Berg Eltz,” the guide delivers the canned script from rote. His German-accented English spills from the tour bus speakers as he navigates the narrow Elzbach River valley road. “The castle has been owned by the same family for over eight hundred yea…”

Elise’s mind wanders until the even temperament of his voice only fills the background spaces in her head.

Why did she want to see castles, Prince Charming was never coming. Hell at this point the evil Prince would do. She imagined being locked in the highest turret. A plaything to be ravished beneath the full moon, her hungry bones left to wait for the next time. Her mother insisted girls like them were destined for more mundane fates with men who were far less interesting. Men like her Dad who worked his fingers to the bone, sweating blood and tears just to survive.

Unknown

The bus stopped at the end of the long stone walkway leading to the entrance of Eltz. For the next two hours, the historic castle would be her playground. Her travel companions opted for the guided tour while Elise chose to walk the halls and grounds alone. ‘Bleiben Sie hinter der Linie’, ignoring the signs she sat on the edge of the Prince’s bed. A moment later she swung her feet up and lay back. The room was much smaller than she expected but it didn’t matter. She watched the door, expecting him to walk through at any moment, no one came.

As the stopover came to an end she thought of her own smaller castle back in Omaha. Maybe it wasn’t so bad. The thought of removing her glass slippers felt liberating. Pulling them from her feet she set them on the stone wall and walked barefoot onto the bus.

At the next stop Elise sat for a moment, not sure if this was scheduled or if the bus had broken down. As she looked out over the scenic countryside, she caught movement in her periphery. Turning her head and setting her eyes on a tall, dark and extremely handsome man. He was heading right toward her while he motioned with his hands.

Unknown

“Excuse me, excuse me… I think you left these at Berg Eltz.”

She nodded.

“I need to be certain,” he said as he dropped to one knee.

She raised her leg to meet his hand and he slid the slipper onto her foot…

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What Are the Chances?

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0fjd125gk87 via Pixabay

What Are the Chances?

“Turn off the transporter beam Umek, and put this thing in cloak mode,” Temu said while shielding its six eyes and looking away from the lonely soul standing on the side of an old Earth road.

“What don’t you think he can see you?” Umek shot back, “You are a humongous moron.”

 “Whatever, just get us the hell out of here!”

“Awwww, come on, he looks like he needs a lift and we could use some company. Besides, if he turns out to be a dick we can just drop him off at the next galaxy.”

“Are you nuts, we ain’t no bleepin’ Galactic Uber service. Did you not read the sign we passed about a parsec back?”

“What are the chances…”

“…that he’s a bloody axe murderer! I’d rather not find out.” Temu interrupted.

After a brief pause, Umek continued, “…where is your sense of adventure, aren’t you getting sick of being trapped in this tin can with me yet?”

“You have no idea…”

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If I Can Make It Here…

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The Ian via Unsplash

If I Can Make It Here…

Broadway was a goal that many wouldn’t even aspire to. Lord knows how many nights he doubted himself, how many times he asked why? Last night all that hard work had paid off, just having a show open on Broadway was an amazing feat, even if it ended up only being a short run.

He grabbed the newspaper and flipped to the entertainment section. He could believe what he was reading. The critics were raving about the show and his performance, the reviews were so hot it was singeing his fingertips. The shit was fire, man!!!

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Mass Extinction

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Whoisbenjamin via Unsplash.com
Mehmet Turgut Kirkgoz via Pexels.com

Mass Extinction

My trunk stretches into the salty water,
but this will not quench my thirst.
These stone monuments
carved by the mother of everything
will be all that remains of the
great herds that once roamed here.
As we go extinct, so does your kind, waiting for
our fossils to be discovered in the next great epoch.

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A Reckoning

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The Voyageurs – Bruno Catalano

Remember when I was whole,
In tune with time, a vibrant soul.

With every lie and new excuse,
My moral compass coming loose.

Wave on wave erodes my soul,
Until I’m but a gaping hole.

All my riches, hints of fame,
Cannot erase my guilt and shame.

So hellbent on winning the race,
I forgot to leave this world –
a better place.

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