Posts tagged daily post

in 1000 Stories

on the topic of isolation – 60/1000

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She hated it when he wasn’t there for her.

She loved it when she could be enveloped in her lovers arms, when she could be pressed against him chest to chest, when she could rest her head on his shoulder, when she knew his arms would be there to roll into when she woke up.

The mornings when she wakes up alone, she wakes up weeping.

She knows these cuddles won’t be for long, and she might hot have them very long, either.

But when she gets them, his embraces are like water: she thinks she will die without them.… Read the rest

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mirror, mirror – 58/1000

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This wrinkle on my forehead is new.

I’ve been watching it grow for a few years now, and first it only showed when I smiled, but now it’s still there when I’m not, so, that’s new.

I have these little hard hairs growing out of my chin.

Whiskers I have to pluck every other week or so, even though I’m probably the only one who knows they’re even there.

And what’s with this red, dry skin on my face, and the way it aaaaaalmost seems like my hairline is moving back?

This getting older thing has its drawbacks, you know.… Read the rest

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meet cute – 57/1000

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‘Almost, I can almost reach it,” she thought, going for a big can on the highest shelf.

She wasn’t surprised when she tipped forward. First her breasts hit the mixed vegetables, then her arms brought down the green beans.

And then she was in someone’s safe arms.

“Are you okay?” asked the most handsome man she’d ever seen.

“Fine, just a klutz,” she said.

“A short klutz,” he joked.

And that was how they met: a meet cute at a grocery store, when her clumsiness landed her in her dream man’s arms.

Their first kiss is near the crushed tomatoes.… Read the rest

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peace, history – 56/1000

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“Do you want to keep this?” I asked, holding the box of Christmas ornaments.

“No, no room.”

I decided to keep it.

“What about these family photos?”

“No, it’s not like I’m ever going to look at them again. I probably forgot half the people in there!”

I keep that box, too.

I’m the only one who wants to hold on to our family, keep some mementos from our lives, our history.

I weep as my parents fill the dumpster with my past.

Now we have no family home.

We just have the memories so sharp they cut like glass.… Read the rest

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a spot of revenge – 55/1000

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“The first time I saw it I was brushing my hair after a shower. I turned just so and saw in the mirror the dark spot on my shoulder.

“My husband said it looked like a bruise, but it just kept getting worse.

“The bruise turned into a boil, and then that was lanced, so I had an open wound. Then they had to care for it daily, and I lived for months in this constant agony until my flesh just started rotting away.”

“My God, do you know what did it?”

“Yeah. I shouldn’t have cheated on my husband.”… Read the rest

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the bravest – 54/1000

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It’s hard to find butterflies here, or even flies.

There are bees, though, they’re always hanging around Washington Square Park, buzzing around the sticky sweet juice dripping down your hand from the popsicle you got at the ice-cream stand.

You block out the sound of traffic and listen to the rasta drum beats and smell the weed that’s everywhere now, and the whole time this warm breeze of city filth swirls around you.

In the middle of the biggest city you find a flower ridiculously alive, crawling from a crack in the concrete.

It’s the bravest thing you’ve ever seen.… Read the rest

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love bomb – 53/1000

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My home reeks of flowers, and not in a good way.

There are just too many. Bouquet after bouquet that arrived like clockwork at ten every morning with a new way to say “I love you.”

I do love flowers, and I love the diamonds he gives me; I love the trips we take on his private jet to glittering cities like Paris and Tokyo.

But the flowers, they’re suffocating me.

It’s too much.

It’s too much to feel like you’re the center of someone’s world, too much to feel like someone’s happiness depends on you.

I don’t want this.… Read the rest

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what a world – 52/1000

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I wasn’t made for this. For these bars of hours that lock me in from one end of the day to the other.

I was made for ink and pages and thousands of quiet hours alone indoors with no one and nothing to bother me.

The world does this to us.

It puts us in cages that we’re not fit for, it locks up everything we have to give.

Nowadays my greatest dream isn’t publishing, it’s disappearing.

It’s buying land and building houses with friends so we can leave the world behind.

I won’t miss it, not even a bit.… Read the rest

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battle’s end – 51/1000

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It felt like my guts had been turned into churning lava, and I could feel things I knew I wasn’t supposed to be able to feel.

So this is what it feels like when the breeze hits your organs.

So this is what it feels like when you’re dying.

The loud clashes, clangs, shouts, and screams were my world in the darkness, because I couldn’t keep my eyes open.

I couldn’t keep watching my soldiers fall.

Then someone knelt beside me.

Lieutenant Robinson.

“Is it bad?” he asked.

“This will be the end of me.”

“But you fought so well.”… Read the rest