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SurreptitiousMuffin posted:TODAY'S PROMPT FEBRUARY 10th 2017: The sun is missing. Metaphors are literal now. Somebody is searching for something they didn't actually lose. Blinked Away I used to think if I opened my eyes wide and never blinked, I wouldn’t be blind. I heard my brother’s laughter, the splash of cool water against my ankles as he cannon-balled into the pool. My face was hot. I felt the sun, but the sun was gone. Like my mother’s face. Like roses and puppies and clouds. I closed my eyes when they dried, counted to ten, said a prayer and opened them again. My mother’s voice rang out, calling us in. Our dog barked. My brother threw a tennis ball. I looked up at the sun, still, believing that I might really see myself, shining back, vibrant and unbroken. When I got inside my mother chastised me for the reddened tone of my skin. Cancer. She warned. The sun is dangerous. After lunch, she slathered sun screen on our faces, got it in our eyes. My brother cried. I never even blinked.
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# ¿ Feb 10, 2017 22:41 |
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# ¿ May 3, 2024 17:09 |
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SurreptitiousMuffin posted:IMMEDIATELY AFTER SAYING ENDLESS PROMPTS I MISSED A DAY OH NO Spreading Ashes Charred black, your back to the flames, Your eyes burn hot, scald your sense. You never could see past the haze, Of your own ambitions. Why are you so incapable of lurking in the safety of shadows? Don’t you know you’re burning alive? Don’t you know you’re going to die? With your back to the flames, Their light framing you, Like you’re not the prodigal son And Hell is only a metaphor.
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# ¿ Feb 17, 2017 22:53 |
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SurreptitiousMuffin posted:TODAY'S PROMPT FEBRUARY 24th 2017:There is no thought permitted, there is no noise allowed -- a quiet man is a happy man. Take your pills. The Popping of Pills The pills, oblong and white, Slipped down the old man’s throat. Once, when he was young, And blonde, and in love, A petite girl had kissed his throat. She had drug her nails first And then her lips over The hump of his Adam’s apple And whispered in a foreign tongue As he thrust beneath her. The lump in his throat coming home Was harder to swallow. As he held his wife in his arms, Closed his eyes and saw the gypsy Of another land, far away, The pills, round and white, On her tongue, shoved into his mouth. His wife said he tasted like adventure, Like bravery and honor and freedom. He was happy when she died, Happy that she had never tasted The bitterness and desperation of war. Sitting in the home his children had chosen, He grasped a paper cup of water And waited for the pills to pacify him.
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# ¿ Feb 24, 2017 06:33 |
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SurreptitiousMuffin posted:TODAY'S PROMPT FEBRUARY 26th 2017: candles, darkness, an intake of breath. Calvin hated emitting light. He hated how constantly exposed he was. He thought living in the lightness was such an unnatural state of being. His friends always laughed at him. You can’t turn off your glow, bro. They said to him. It’s just how things are. Embrace it. But Calvin wanted desperately to be unseen. He scratched absentmindedly at his low-watt flesh and until blood twinkled out of him. He sighed. Even his insides were bright and blaring. He heard there was a store on the corner of main that could snuff him out so he went after school on the M3 bus. The store smelled of ashes and when the shop keeper stroked his hair the tiny particles of his scalp glinted onto the counter. He brushed them onto the floor until they eventually dulled out. Calvin bought a candle and a slot of Neon Neuron Neutralizer worth six weeks of allowance. Guaranteed darkness. The shop keeper promised. Kids these days. Always trying to be nothing. He sat on a park bench and drank the stuff. It tasted like tar and cotton candy and it made his tongue itch. He waited. When his hands started to lose their luster he pulled the candle from his backpack and shoved it between two splintered slots of the bench. He licked the wick with his tongue and felt the flame ignite. It burned thick and black, swallowing the bench in darkness. Calvin pulled his knees to his chest and nearly went cross-eyed waiting for the last little drops of light to drain from the tip of his nose. Finally, it was gone. He was gone. Totally, utterly gone. He licked his lips, swallowed in the emptiness and felt like he could finally breathe.
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# ¿ Feb 27, 2017 10:26 |
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I like this. A lot. Okua posted:Cool stuff.
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# ¿ Feb 27, 2017 21:49 |
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# ¿ May 3, 2024 17:09 |
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No Gravitas posted:Prompt: Everything is perfectly still, except the two of them. She's frowning. He's smiling. They are here to save the world. A Laundered Life Fold me into your arms like the sleeves of your shirt, still warm and soft like the skin of my face when you brush back my bangs. You say this is fresh and new. But it's not like we washed away the past in one little cycle, spun away all the pain. It's not like the memories drained out of me when you squeezed me up tight. Can't you see I'm fraying? Bounced around in trips to small towns, between waitresses that always smile and songs that play regardless of what I need to hear. While I'm tucked up in the corner of the seat, feeling the cool pane of the window like it some how brings me closer to being outside myself. Like the rain drops washing down are the slippery slivers of my soul, impossible to catch between our interlaced fingers. Sometimes I wish you would leave me out to dry, just an insignificant fabric of your life, swaying in the whispers of your world.
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# ¿ Mar 6, 2017 23:00 |