October 2012
1 post
Rice Cake Rambles: ramblings about romance. →
He took my hand. A simple enough action really, no ulterior motives, no deep and provoking thought process, just the mechanical act of taking my own hand in his. In all honesty his hand was warm and a little slick from sweat, the fact that his sweaty hand was touching me should have triggered some…
November 2011
0 posts
1 tag
Fair warning
NaNoWriMo is like in a half hour. And I think I’ll be using this to post whatever it is I end up working on. So far I have the main character: Antonia Isabelle Darrow. And her friend Garret who doesn’t have a last name as of yet. they’re college kids who like to go lurking in abandoned medical facilities for fun. Antonia is bright but has no idea what she wants to do with her...
October 2011
16 posts
2 tags
On the Subject of Hearts
She had given him her heart many years ago, though she doubted if he knew it. If he did, he certainly showed no sign that he carried the extra organ around with him. Even still, she knew he had it.
She could tell because there was a fleshy bloodied hole in her chest where it had been taken out. When she’d first given her heart to him, slipping it silently into his left coat pocket, the...
1 tag
Electric Kettle
A red electric tea kettle. Boils water in under 90 seconds. Doesn’t make a hideous whistling noise when it’s done. Fits into tight spaces and is generally innocuous enough. As an avid drinker of all hot beverages, Molly should have been enamored with the cheeky little appliance.
As it was, she was standing with her back to the kitchen sink, leaning lightly against the counter with...
1 tag
Overtime
She sat there, her feet curled up underneath her as she waited in the poorly padded chair. listening to the clock tick… tick… ticking away the minuets until the end of her shift. Ignoring the electric light of the computer screen in favor of picking at the dirt that had collected beneath her nails.
Fridays at the temp agency were the worst. She snapped her gum running a hand through...
Newspaper
Richard Klein. It was the name on his office door, etched into the black plastic in crisp white letters. It was the name on his marriage license uniting him with his high school sweet heart for better or for worse, then again, it was also the name signed to the bottom of the divorce papers.
The name had shown up in numerous bylines at The Phoenix, and several other publications. And if he...
fighting over the paper
It wasn’t unusual, their silence. In fact to some invariable degree it was necessary. Surely without silence they would be reduced to one of their all to common arguments about politics, or economics, or the color of the kitchen, or as it was only hours earlier, the proper height of a lawn’s grass.
So they sat there, her reading the obituaries, and him reading about the latest natural...
1 tag
Look
Janet looked at the sand under her feet, it was warm outside in the sun. She and Shane had gone searching for sand crabs in the heat of a July afternoon. Janet had pulled her thick brown curls high up on her head in a pony tail, an attempt at staving off the summer humidity.
Shane stood several paces away looking intently at the sand, Janet noticed with a small smile that the back of his...
1 tag
A dual angled sensory scene
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It’s cold, colder than I’m used to, but then again maybe it’s the rain that’s now soaking into my skin that’s making me shiver. I love the rain, I love the way it smells. It smells clean, not chemical clean, but the natural smell of new beginnings that only a good storm can bring. Some people say rain is sad, that the sky is crying, but who says that crying has to be a sad sport? People...
The importance of people as life rafts.
It’s like swimming in the ocean, the catch is that you don’t know how to swim, and your struggling trying to stay afloat, swallowing mouthfuls of salt water and trying not to choke on the air you do manage to get into your lungs.
Like every living thing the only thing your body really and truly wants is to keep living. Keep delivering oxygen to the lungs, keep pumping blood to the rest of the...
1 tag
The Man on the Table
He had hands like her father’s, they were rough, riddled with callouses and scars. The mark of a true craftsmen. She wondered briefly as she examined his fingernails, what kind of work he did. Some sort of industrial labor, she guessed.
His face was pleasant, not something that she would have been inclined to chase after, but pleasant none the less. He had a strong jaw line peppered with...
1 tag
Bad Things
When I was little my mother would scold me, she’d say: “Sophie, don’t go near the stove, bad things will happen” or “Sophie don’t play near the street, bad things will happen.”
It was always “bad things will happen”. Never ‘you might burn yourself’ or ‘a car could hit you’, always the ever so ominous “bad things”
As a child I used to wonder what exactly those bad things were that my mother...
1 tag
A new and deeper ache
There’s an aching in my chest again… It’s not the normal aching.
It’s not the ache of loss, of leaving, of forgetting
It’s not the ache of longing, of remembering, of reminiscing
This is not the ache of heartache, nor emptiness, nor yearning
This is not the ache of loneliness, though I do feel that it holds a similar silver and grey hue.
This is not the ache.
This is an ache that speaks in...
1 tag
How to Dive
Splashing. Giggling. Sharp Rocks. Encouraging Faces. Rushing water. Looking back it was all rather thrilling. My arms were wrapped tightly around the wooden beams that were meant to keep people on the other side of the bridge, the safe side of the bridge. Even with that knowledge, that safety was only a well thought good decision away, I stood there. Little 7 year old me, A fear of heights, and...
1 tag
The Storage Door
It’s quiet there, dark and cold, but quiet. It’s not a place that’s easily found, she knows that all too well. It’s nestled between two hornets nests of emotions, all the way in the back of her mind, behind a door labeled “storage”.
The first time she’d found it was when she was 7. She’d had to wade through the shallow sea of despair and trek through a forest of lonely before she’d come...
1 tag
Too
“You’re too fat”,
“You’re too skinny”,
“You’re too smart”,
“you’re too clueless”,
“you’re too tall”,
“You’re too tiny”,
“You’re too ugly”,
“You’re too slutty”.
I hear it every day. Groups of words strung together with tongue and cheek, created with the aim to subdivide people and place them into groups. The group that’s too trendy, the group that needs too desperately to get laid, the...
1 tag
Moon Dance
I love the way the moon looks when I stare out my window, It’s rather cloudy out but the moon is so bright that it’s a blurred spot of yellow among an endless sea of indigo.
It’s a round rebellious spot on the darkened canvas of sky.
It says hope is there, hope is always there so long as the moon is out, even if it’s just a sliver, barely bigger than the tip of a child’s pinky...
