Posts tagged dailypost

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

in 1000 Stories

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

in 1000 Stories

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

in 1000 Stories

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

in 1000 Stories

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

low angle photography of american flag
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I’m No Trumploving Fool

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Are you patriotic? What does being patriotic mean to you?

When I was little, I think we were all patriotic.

I think that as long as we didn’t have parents at home with rather strong and conflicting beliefs against living nicely with people in society, we might still all be patriotic.

We all learned to salute the flag, to stand for the national anthem, to remove our hats when we sang it, to respect our flag when we hang it.

And now?

Now I see America broken in half.

I’ve seen too many Ford-F150s with these massive American flags on … Read the rest

in 1000 Stories

the sword – 42/1000

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I didn’t want to fight. I wasn’t made for battle, I was made to sit on a throne and be quiet and pretty.

When my brother ran in, he was already mortally wounded and died in my arms.

His blood was the anger I needed to pick up his sword and fight back.

A rebel entered. Had I been empty handed, he may have left, but I was armed, and he engaged me.

His sword came down, and I saw the faces of my people in his blade.

I hacked and stabbed and finally killed him.

But all for nothing.… Read the rest

in 1000 Stories

jilted – 41/1000

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“Tell me, was I just another pawn in your elaborate game of chess?”

“You were, but unlike the other pawns you managed to become my queen.”

“I am not your queen! I have no crown; she got your crown!”

“But you get me. You get my nights my mornings, my kisses, my hugs and love. You get all of that, she gets none of it.”

“Games! It’s just games you play and nonsense you speak!”

“No, my love, no, you are the queen of my heart.”

“But not by name, so I will never sit by you on your throne.”… Read the rest

in 1000 Stories

bad chimp – 40/1000

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When the chimp attacked I left my body. I wasn’t there when he pounded at my face with his fists, when he jumped up and down on my stomach and groin, crushing me.

I barely remember being taken away with lights flashing, sirens blaring, but I remember waking up in agony, feeling like someone had ripped my body apart and sloppily put it back together.

“I’m sorry, the injuries to your face were too severe, we couldn’t save it,” the doctor said.

I know I’m a monster, but I’m trying to approach life with grace, while wearing someone else’s face.… Read the rest