The Thief

Composed 7/30/13
Description: Multiple things this could refer to. But they’re all situations writers fear…

He stole her inspiration
Cut out her tongue
Paralyzed her fingers
He left emptiness where there was life
Fear where there had been love
But worse
He invaded her heart and mind
And all without permission

She’d run a thousand miles
To save the innocents he’d taken
So she chased him down
To a house uptown
And knocked him off his block
And she got her inspiration back
All one hundred pages

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Deceiving

Composed 7/27/13
Description: Written soon after my last entry. It is only appropriate to post it tonight as well.

It doesn’t feel right
At the end of the night
To leave sad words behind
For I know that my life
Though at times filled with strife
Is more blessed than most my kind

Still I’m afraid I might slip away
Tonight as in my bed I lay
Sad words left as my last
They will read my past thoughts
Thinking me so distraught
They could have helped if only they asked

But such thoughts are untrue
I love life, I love you
My grief is so small in the end
I only write sadly
Because it’s so madly
Unlike the course life tends

Skeleton

Composed 7/26/13
Description: We do not only need food to survive.

I could live without the feast
If permitted bits of bread
An occasional scrap of steaming meat
Small wrapped chocolates on holidays
At least then I’d have a taste
Of hope

But I sit here starving
Gulping water to fight the pains
To my left and right
They snack contently
Others gorging
Cheeks round and red with warmth

I’m
A skeleton
No one pays mind
To my stares
My pale, shrunken cheeks
Too distracted with their own joy
And I’m left alone to wither

The Alpha Bet

Composed 7/27/13
Description: My response to today’s Daily Prompt: A to Z! The challenge was to “create a short story, piece of memoir, or epic poem that is 26 sentences long, in which the first sentence begins with “A” and each sentence thereafter begins with the next letter of the alphabet.” It sounded fun, so I gave it a shot. I must say, I am impressed by how this turned out. Let me know what YOU think!

“Aha! Bet you didn’t see that coming!”

Clarisse grinned and, after a triumphant brandish of her sword, bowed. Down on his back, Ezekiel’s lips pulled back into a snarl, but he kicked over his small sack of coins as they had agreed.

“Ezekiel, please don’t look so grim and downtrodden! Finer swordsmen than you have fallen prey to my excellent skill!” Gleefully, Clarisse swiped the bag, leapt, twirled, and jabbed into an imaginary foe. “However, I admit, few of the worthy opponents I have battled share your particular… disadvantage. I therefore believe you have, indeed, waged a comparably remarkable battle. Jealous, I’m sure, others of your make would be of your skill.”

Kings have had my so-called disadvantage!” Livid, Ezekiel jumped to his feet. “Maybe you’ll see who is really at a disadvantage during our next bet! Nightfall – that is when we will decide who really is the best!”

Only a few hours later, Clarisse met Ezekiel a few hundred feet into the forest.

“Pray tell… exactly what is the nature of this challenge?”

Quirking an eyebrow in some smugness, Ezekiel remarked that they would be dueling in the pitch black of night in the center of the forest. Reputation as the “alpha” of their group would be the prize at stake.

Stepping back, Clarisse voiced her uncertainty. The danger of sword fighting in the pitch black of night, even with blunt swords, was enough to make her wary.

“Understandable, it is, how some people would feel afraid to battle while lacking one of their primary senses, even though some do this casually and with much success…”

Very soon, the two were battling.

Whipping her sword this way and that, Clarisse struggled to anticipate Ezekiel’s moves. “X” soon became the shape of their blades, and Ezekiel, fighting as energetically and easily as they had that afternoon, maneuvered, pushed, and sent Clarisse flying over a branch behind her.

“Yes, indeed, my dear beta, blindness can in fact become an advantage!”

“Zee, I see your point.”

Dependence

Composed 7/25/13
Description: My response to
We Drink Because We’re Poets’ Thursday Poetry Prompt: Weakness. What is weakness? There are many different kinds of weakness I could write about, but this one spoke to me this evening….

when ice water shoots through my heart
and bugs bite beneath my skin
you tie me up in puppet strings
and stand me on my feet

step

by

step

you lead me through

but the wind whips briskly still
and your strings
twist and tie and trip
and slip off of my wrists and feet and then

step

by

step

I fall

my arms
my legs
they’re frozen now
my heart
my head
their pain throbs new
when I’m forced to walk on my own feet
my strength starts and stops
with you

Meeting

Composed 7/22/13
Description: I’ve had this story in my head for a few weeks. I’ve never really experimented with flash fiction, so this is my first attempt.  It’s still pretty stylized (can’t take the poet out of the girl). Let me know what you think!

She grabbed a cup of coffee.
She met with her client – a regular. He needed some deposits made. Discreetly.

She sat forward in a black leather chair and worked her magic. She listened to clicks and beeps – the sounds of fairy dust.
The deposit? Done. Gone. Invisible. Jamaica. Grand Cayman. China. Antarctica, for all they knew.
Something went wrong. A crack in the fire. Someone had a shield. Black screen, windows open.
She played with black magic. Found a trail, a line of disturbed ash.
She smiled. Nobody could escape the track of gifted witch.

It was hidden in plain sight. Downtown. An old comic store.
She slipped in. Bell chimes. A young man. He didn’t look up.
She put her hand on the desk. A snake’s smile. Confrontation.
His eyes? Unsurprised. Hers narrowed. Comprehension.
“You did it on purpose. Why?”
“To get your attention.”
He smiled and grabbed his cup of coffee.

Okay in Moderation

Composed 7/21/13
Description: My response to today’s Daily Prompt: Party Animals.

Some people get their sugar
From crowded rooms and cigarettes
From the vibrations in the earth
From laughs and possible regrets
They do their longing, seizing motions
Into the hours of the moon
And when they crash they grab their lifelines
Instead of drowning in their solitude
But it only takes a spoon or two
To give me a sugar rush
And in the end I take so little
I don’t mind the withdrawal much
In fact I like those moments
When my body can be cleansed
I feel a little more myself
When the sugar high ends

Honor

Composed 7/18/13
Description: My response to We Drink Because We’re Poets’ Thursday Poetry Prompt #12: “Honor.” What is honor? In response I recorded a  scenario I’ve imagined many times. It’s short, but, I hope, powerful.

A door beat down
A gasp
A gun
A snarled question
A yes
A shot

The most peaceful way
To die

Memento

Composed 7/16/13
Description:  A personal piece.

I possess a part of your past self
The soft one I can coax into my palm
He wraps me in his arms each night
In the warmth of one
Who lay out in the sun

From the slope of my shoulders to my arching feet
He runs his brown hands over me
I twist and smile beneath him
And sigh
For he is a past self
And I will never hold the present