Okay, so this one was written in fit of pique about someone a little overwhelmed. It’s a composite of several different events that I put together, and gave the narrator a very frantic, very overwhelming schedule. Maybe written a little out of guilt for ignoring someone when I maybe shouldn’t have. And the idea that sometimes signs have far deeper implications than the obvious. This one being about my favorite airplane sign.

I don’t know how my life came to this point, but as I stared down at my overly tight schedule I realized that there was almost nothing on there for me. There were events to support my friends, events to support my community, work (which paid my bills, but really…), and a thousand little errands to help other people out.

I wasn’t a candle that was being burnt at both ends, I was a sparkler, lit at 6 points, and just expending my fuel 6 times faster. It all came to a head during a twenty minute break as I sat chilling for the first time all day, and I looked down and say 12 unread messages from the most needy person on my list.

None of it was actionable, it never was with him, and I had been expecting it really. I had agreed to help him with something when I wasn’t supposed to be available, wanting to be a good friend. I half suspectedthat he only asked me cause he expected me to say no, and then wanted to whine about it. It was who he was after all.

We were supposed to meet in 20 minutes, and this was the “unexpected” crisis that wouldn’t allow for him to show up. It involved stories of panic attacks spurned by last minute changes, and I wanted to feel sympathy, but all I felt was apathy.

It was my break, and now I felt guilty for ignoring what I suspect was a fake crisis to cancel plans, and I took a few breaths and remind myself of a simple sign become affirmation. You must first put your own oxygen mask before helping others with theirs!


One Day More

So this was written for the six-sentence-story prompt by girlontheedge. The prompt was LOST, and my inspiration was the lost boys. That said, this got more than a little sad, and is written from the perspective of the detective on the case. It still feels a little clunky, but I am posting it anyways.

Another day, another missing child, another parent looking me in the eye and lying about what happened. They weren’t all bad parents, some were trying their best, working two, three, even four jobs to put food on the table, but at the end of the day it meant they didn’t know where their child was most of the time.

They all sat at the table, asking me to find their children, and became defensive, and then hostile as I asked question after question they couldn’t answer. I would explain, as gently as I could, that no, it was not an interrogation, but what do they like, where do they play, and who are their friends, were the things I need to know to find them.

Then I promised to do everything I could to find their baby, even knowing that the chances were that the child was lost for good. I worked 20 hour hour days, desperate to follow the trail, until it went cold, when I would explain that we were still looking, but I had been assigned a new case, and it was a new day, another missing child.

Love You, Forever

So this one was a weird prompt, and I will talk about it more in the notes afterwards. Its from the point of view of a guy who is pining for a girl whom he is in love with. Its a little creepy and a little dark…

I knew from the moment I first saw her face that she was girl for me. She reminded me of my first crush, Barbara Eden, and in the little pink dress she was wearing the girl could have doubled for Jeannie.

I wanted to talk to her so badly, but I knew I wasn’t her type of fella. I was just Kevin, and she was perfect. I watched her, every single day until the end of the school year. She would walk across the bleachers with her friends and I would watch from the other side of the field. She didn’t even know I existed.

I was sad when she left for the summer, but when she returned the next autumn she had somehow, inexplicably, become even more beautiful than she had been before. I knew then, that this was it for me, I would have to talk to her.

I got brave, and more importantly, I got closer. I stopped lurking under the south bleachers where I felt my most comfortable, and I stepped into the light. I went into the school and started trying to catch sight of her between classes. Second semester I was lucky, she took art, and I knew art. It was my greatest passion, and when she stepped into that room, for the first time with no friends at her sides I knew it was fate.

I took the seat next to hers, and for the entire semester it was just her and me at the corner table. I told her everything about me, my life, and my family, and my darling girl, she was such a great listener. She never stopped me never said I was rambling, never scoffed, or judged. She just sat doing her art with an attentive ear. I know she didn’t share anything back with me, but if I were that beautiful, I would be private too. She wouldn’t want weirdo’s overhearing something about her personal life.

I am sure there were people, other guys even that wanted to be closer to her. How couldn’t they want to, she was amazing. I had never met anyone like her before, and I knew I never would again. It felt worse this time when she left for the summer, and when she returned to school in the autumn I knew that I had to take my chance or lose her forever.

She was bound for higher education, early admissions had already yielded her three letters and the closest was a six hour drive from here. Meanwhile I knew that this town was it for me, there would be no college, no fancy ivy league, and my darling girl was smart enough to never come back to this backwater nothing.

I started getting closer now, saying hello in the halls, and while she didn’t acknowledge me, I knew she heard. She gave the slightest movement when I spoke, turned her head just so. She played it off as a shudder, but I knew that she was acknowledging me, but she knew her friends wouldn’t approve. She needed better friends, friends that would want her to be happy, cared for, not those backstabbing bitches that she had.

I found her crying at the beginning of second semester, Darla, her so called best friend had stopped speaking to her. Something about my dear sweet Jeannie not letting her cheat on a math test. I was enraged at the thought of someone making my darling girl feel worthless because she was smart, and not willing to bend to that idiot’s pressure.

When I saw Darla standing there, alone, at the top of the staircase it was so easy. One little shove and all of my darling girl’s problems went away. With the loss of Darla the others, traitors all of them, returned over night and my girl was happy. I was torn, I loved seeing her happy, but hated the spent all her time with them instead of me.

I tried to talk to her again, but she rebuffed me, didn’t even look at me. As the year passed I grew angrier and angrier. How dare she ignore me, didn’t she know I loved her, didn’t she know I only wanted what was best for her? I tried again and again to make her acknowledge me, speak to me, but I got nothing in response.

There was only one thing I could do, to keep her here, to keep her with me forever, and I knew what to do. I waited until she was alone, one day staying late for one of her clubs, and when she went to leave I opened the door to the basement. My darling girl, always so curious went towards it. When she was in and down the stairs I opened another door, further in, one not many people knew about, and she walked towards it with that bounding curiosity. When she was in, I closed the door, locking it behind her.

She screamed at first, begged me to let her out, but I didn’t. I let the loose bolt by the furnace do its work, the carbon monoxide slowly making her more and more drowsy. It was a small leak, so small that it took hours to have any effect, which is why this had to happen at night, when there was no chance of anyone opening the door.

When she was pliant, I rattled the grate in the wall, that led to an old bit old ducting that went up under the bleachers. Once she was in, she didn’t notice the grate going back on behind her.

She got to a point where the duct turned, and it was blocked, and she didn’t have the energy to try and clear her path. With one hand on my thigh, she slowly drifted off, and I knew that she would stay there, in the duct with me, forever.

So the prompt was to write a story from the POV of a ghost. Tried to drop some hints, but let me know if I pulled it off. Thanks,

Shut Up and Dance!

So this one is a little dark ficlet that is related to the short story I posted last week, which I am going to link below. It’s about a guy who meets a girl at a club that seems way too good to be true. I know that seems to be a theme of mine, but I am really into the concept of listening to your instincts.

“Dance with me!” She screamed over the heavy techno beat and I couldn’t help but agree. We ground together on the dance floor and all the other people melted away. I felt her hand on the back of my neck and she pulled me even closer.

When the song transitioned to the next, I let her pull my through the throng of bodies to the bar. “To us!” She handed me a shot and I downed it, barely swallowing before her lips we on mine, and then her hands were feeling, reaching, everywhere, and I barely registered us moving towards the back door.

The cold air bit against my skin, my coat still at the check, but the hot lips on my neck distracted me from the chill. In the stark light of the streetlight behind the club she was no less beautiful, but far more real, and I couldn’t believe my luck as she pulled us towards an alley one hand undoing my belt, and then the button of my pants.

“I, this, kind of thing never happens to me” Smooth Rob, smooth.

“I don’t doubt that sugar.” She purred, and I froze, her red eyes glowing in the dim alley light, and her smile marked by too sharp teeth.

I tried to pull away, but she was to strong, and her teeth were buried in my neck. It didn’t hurt though, it almost felt good, actually, really good. A heat stirred within me, and even as I grew more and more light headed I couldn’t help by revel in the sensation.

Then I knew no more.