Oxygen

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!

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.

Blocked Writing

Oh my, I just realized I never made this post. I am so sorry, this has become a victim of Nanowrimo. The great news is my Nano is going well, at the half way point I am past the 70% mark. This is something I wrote during nano, about writing. Those of us who are full of ideas when they have no time and have no ideas when they have time will get this one.


I cannot write.

It is not writer’s block, as the words flow freely. The ideas spring to life begging to be let out as quickly as I can write them down.

It is life that prevents me from writing. The never ending cycle of shopping, cooking, cleaning, eating, working, keeps me from my keyboard, even as I long to do nothing but write all day, everyday.

Everything I do, every step of the day is to lead me back to this place, to the space where I can create. Any yet I know if I were to quit my job tomorrow and sit here all day, I would never write another word again.

Lava

This was utter nonsense inspired by friend explaining how they got that burn on their face when they took off their mask at lunch. It was more amusing than anything else, and I would have edited something more substantial, but Sunday just kicked me in the pants.


It was cool in my hand, and I took a tentative bite confirming the temperature was reasonable. The spices hit my tongue and my mouth watered, god this was heaven in deep fried form.

My second bit was where it all went sideways, my teeth pressed in and all of a sudden cream cheese erupted from several points, the bit that hit my tongue was warm, but then the side of the morsel split and the glob that was spewed fourth from the depth of the treat was like lava as it landed on my chin.

It burned blistering my skin and a second later when I wiped it off, already cooled the damage was done. I looked at the results in the mirror, and for the first time in a year I was glad for the masks we had to wear every day, that would hide my shame at the blister formed by a jalapeño popper.