It’s Only April

WordPress Daily Prompt – Cloaked

The darkness cloaks some bullshit.

Mari stared at the paper.

The darkness cloaks some bullshit. There’s some fucking noise outside, a siren. It’s all bullshit.

She pressed her temples. She really didn’t want to fail this student but he had turned in papers like this all year. This was shaping up to be the most ridiculous one yet.

The darkness cloaks some bullshit. There’s some fucking noise outside, a siren. It’s all bullshit. The jackass took off through the back door about an hour ago. It took the god damn cops an hour to get here.

“Jesus, I’m going to need some wine.” Mari had sat this particular student down just a week ago and explained that he really needed to knock it out of the park on this paper. They made a deal that if he could make an A she would pass him in the class. He knew the material and Mari knew he could pass if made the effort but the effort seemed to be completely lost on him.

The darkness cloaks some bullshit. There’s some fucking noise outside, a siren. It’s all bullshit. The jackass took off through the back door about an hour ago. It took the god damn cops an hour to get here.  I’m trying to tell them to turn off the god damn siren. Little bro is in the back sleeping. Somehow I’m threatening and now I’m face down in the mud with some fat white fuck breathing down my neck about Miranda rights. 

Mari poured two glasses worth of a red blend into her glass. “Ok, let’s power through. This is the last one.”

The darkness cloaks some bullshit. There’s some fucking noise outside, a siren. It’s all bullshit. The jackass took off through the back door about an hour ago. It took the god damn cops an hour to get here.  I’m trying to tell them to turn off the god damn siren. Little bro is in the back sleeping. Somehow I’m threatening and now I’m face down in the mud with some fat white fuck breathing down my neck about Miranda rights. I’m trying to tell them it wasn’t me. Now little bro is awake and his footsteps are covered in fucking blood. Wanna see cops get real? Show them a four year old with bloody fucking footsteps. I tell them the jackass took off and who knows where he got to since it took them a god damn hour to get here. Little bro is crying in the backseat but they won’t let me sit with him because they want my alibi. Fuck them, I work two jobs and they can call my bosses to verify. Fat fucks. Little bro keeps asking why and you know what? I don’t fucking know. But I graduate this spring and I’m already eighteen. Thank fucking god, or whatever, mom had a will that named me legal guardian. Just give me an A Ms. Vargas. It’s been a long fucking year and it’s only April. 


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Millie’s Gone

WordPress Daily Prompt – Fraud

Moira packed each picture away carefully. Eventually Levee Harolds family would want some things but boxes of wedding pictures featuring his soon to be missing widow? Those weren’t likely to be the best souvenirs of his life. There would be some story about sweet Moira Harolds spinning out of control in the wake of her husband’s death, perhaps she would disappear to begin another life. Those were details that the former Mrs. Harolds didn’t have to bother with.

No, the only concern Moira had was packing boxes that would be eventually picked up by someone and her new packet of papers.

Moira ran a thumb over a silver and gold frame holding a particularly stereotypical wedding shot of her and her now deceased husband. When she looked at it through the eyes of her new persona, one Vera Milguy, she felt little. There was perhaps a twinge of sadness for the former Mrs. Harolds, after all Vera Milguy wasn’t a complete monster.

Beyond that though there was something else brewing. A feeling that neither Moira nor Vera could quite place. A deep unsettling sadness was threatening to take hold.

“Maybe it’s better to set these to the side for now.” The woman dropped the frame back onto the soft carpeted floor and stretched. The former Mrs. Harolds had been quite sentimental. It made sorting through things a chore. None the less it was something that had to be done in some capacity. She smiled to herself as she thought of the guidebook. People would shit themselves if they knew there was a guidebook. 

Crossing the room she surveyed the few things left on the walls. Two large paintings, a collection of ornate masks and a rather decorative full length mirror. The former Mrs. Harolds had fine tastes, perhaps Vera could learn a thing or two from her. She turned in front of the mirror letting her black skirt swirl around her waist.

For a second she caught sight of herself, giggling like a child as her curls bounced around her shoulders. Without warning that deep unsettling grief leapt from the darkness and took hold of the woman.

She struggled to understand who stared back at her from the mirror. Was it the former Mrs. Harolds? Her new prospect Vera Milguy? Perhaps it was any one of the many others.

No, the blue eyes swimming in tears reached even further back. Her lips twitched and trembled as the sobs threatened to overflow. There was no longer a woman crying in her reflection but a child, the timid and shy Millie.

Without thinking she lifted a finger to her lips and bit it gently, it did little calm her but the pressure satisfied a nervous tick Millie had nursed since she was a toddler. Sweet Millie was filling with sorrow over the passing of Mr. Harolds. She was filled with fear over the path life was taking. The small timid Millie wanted to run home and cry in her mother’s arms.

“No.” It wasn’t the former Mrs. Harolds or Vera who spoke. “No!” Millie, a grown woman now, stared at herself with fists clenched. “Millie’s gone! Do you hear me! She died with her love when her father shot him the head!”

With force that surprised every persona she’d ever taken on, Millie slammed her fist into the delicate glass sending shards flying around her. The cracking and crashing echoed through the hallways followed by the clip of Vera Milguy’s high heels. Blood dripped from her bruised knuckles as she slammed the front door behind her.

“It’s better this way.”

Wrong Direction

Do you remember the days
When we’d hang off the bed?
Upside down, until the blood
Rushed to our heads?
We’d watch the world,
Through pulsing red tinted glasses.
Everything looked so different
When you were watching it
From the wrong direction.

When we’d hide from everyone,
Lost in our own private conversations?
We were always worlds apart,
Yet somehow, we ended up in each other’s arms.
Do you remember all my secrets?
Like the ones we whispered in the dark,
So not even the creeping wind could hear?
Do you carry them gently in your heart?
Do you crush them in the palm of your hand?

I saw you yesterday;
Hands in your pockets,
Watching the ground,
Guarding your bleeding heart
And speaking softly to my soul.
I started to ask you,
But you were heading off.
I couldn’t help but feel
It was the wrong direction.


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Wild Things

WordPress Daily Prompt – Tame

Bring out my wild side,
Pull her back and hold her still.
I promise you baby,
She’ll fight the whole way out.
Pin her down and whisper in her ear,
It’s always fun when you try
Taming wild things.
Grip her waist and sit her down,
Tell her she’s been bad today,
That little wild thing doesn’t care.
Touch her soul,
Try to bring her peace.
I know what you’ll find.
Those wild things are meant to be.

Take Me Deeper Dear

WordPress Daily Prompt – Superficial

Take me deeper dear,
Past the small talk.
Past the “how are you”
To the “why are you”?
Ask me why we’re here,
What’s the meaning
Of all this again?
Tell me of life and love and music
That pulses through your veins.
Talk about the universe and the stars,
About how small we truly are.
Tell me about that glimmer in your eye,
The magic in your soul.
Tell me about the mountains and the oceans,
About the snow on Christmas.
Gift me your memories,
The good and the bad,
Even the awkward and sad.
Take me deeper dear.


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When Time Was Elastic

WordPress Daily Prompt – Elastic

When time was elastic,
Stretched between two points
Like a rubber band straining
To hold a twig from snapping in two,
We jumped here and there.
Moving choices,
Changing voices,
Then the band snapped;
Trapping us in strange places
Where skies are blue,
Unless they’re grey,
And memories of
When time was elastic
Are like rubber bands straining
To hold our minds together
When we’re slowly going crazy.


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