Daisey was born into the spotlight, destined for fame.
One day old, she appeared in a documentary about newborns.
As she grew, so did her career.
Dozens of films, dozens of roles before she could walk.
And when she could, that much more.
The perfect child actress, every moment, calculated perfection.
Her first birthday, blowing out the candles, not just Oscar-worthy, but magical. Pure magic.
And then, the long downward slide.
Other babies took the spotlight away from her.
Daisey settled for supporting roles and B movies.
The producers stopped calling. Her agent dumped her.
Her first word was “WHY?”
Author: R.
Steal your soul
If you look into a man’s eyes, you will see their soul.
The moment you see it, that’s the perfect time to strike.
Leap at them quickly, and try to suck out their soul.
It’s best that you do it while trying not to suck out their eye.
I know that’s hard to do.
Believe me, I’ve tried, and ended up with a screaming man’s eye in my mouth, flailing crazily at me.
So, you do it when they’re asleep in bed.
Wake them, and strike.
Now stop screaming, dammit. I’m going to try to suck out your soul again.
Stroke
Sudden existence. Awareness.
Sounds and shapes.
Pain and fear.
Reaching out, sensation.
No comprehension, no understanding.
Knowing you should know, that you knew all of this.
But it’s just not there.
Every memory, every word locked away.
Like those credit cards you put in a cup, filling it with water.
Putting it in the freezer.
But it’s glass, no, plastic.
You can see them, know they are there, but can’t get to them.
Harder and harder, you hit it, trying, but you can’t.
Day after day, the shapes become faces.
The sounds become voices.
Slowly becoming someone, maybe you again.
The Offer
I usually eat dinner at home.
Well, not dinner, but a bowl full of raw vegetables that I snack on.
But now and then, I’ll pick something up on the way home.
Or stop at someplace.
I had an email offer for Pei Wei, three dollars off.
They were okay, not great, and I finished most of it.
There weren’t any napkins out, I wiped my hands on the seat.
On the way home, I opened the car door and threw up.
The next morning, LivingSocial had a coupon for seven dollars off.
I sighed, deleted the apps, and unsubscribed.
Blinders
It’s supposed to be a holiday.
An important one.
But I don’t feel it.
I’ve lost that connection.
I’ve lost that meaning.
Or maybe, I’ve found deeper meaning.
I’ve broken through the rituals and rites.
All that hokey storytelling bullshit.
The fables and ghost stories.
That tribal, backward nonsense.
Miracles and magic.
If they were real then, where are they now?
The pillars of fire and booming voices.
It doesn’t really matter now.
We still pull the wool over our own eyes.
I won’t do it. I can see clearly now.
And society’s willfully ignorant blinders don’t fit me anymore.
Vacuum
Every week, I vacuumed under the bed.
There’s no telling what’s down there. I hadn’t the heart to look.
The strange noises. The weird shadows.
Once, I thought I saw…
Best not to think about it.
Just pull out the bag, drop it in the trash, and walk away.
After the vacuum’s motor burned out, I had to buy another vacuum.
This one was bagless, dropping dirt and dust into a plastic bin.
So the next time I vacuumed under the bed, I saw them.
And… I just… can’t… unsee…
Now, I call a maid service and leave the house.
Weekly Challenge #729 – NOT
- Lizzie
- Richard
- Serendipidy
- Tom
- Norval Joe
- Planet Z
LIZZIE
Don’t.
Don’t go.
Don’t go for a walk.
Don’t.
Don’t go to the beach.
No, don’t swim.
Don’t sit and bury your fingers in the golden sand.
Don’t build castles and little houses that will crumble with the tide, and mountains with little steps on the side so little imaginary people could climb them safely, their toes feeling the warmth of the sun as they tread upwards.
Don’t .
Don’t stand so close.
Don’t sneeze and laugh and cough.
Don’t breathe.
Don’t wrap your arms around a sad shoulder.
Don’t breathe.
Don’t take things for granted.
Don’t breathe.
Don’t be…
Don’t.
RICHARD
Reverse Psychology
Reverse psychology: It’s clever stuff, at least that’s what they tell me.
If you want to convey a message, tell someone the opposite, and they won’t believe you; if you want someone to press the button, put a big sign over it saying, ‘Do NOT press this button’.
The trouble is, I know from bitter experience, it doesn’t work.
“Do you love me?”, asked the wife.
“No, I don’t!”, I replied with conviction.
“Well, do you want a divorce?”
“Yes, Absolutely!”
“You swine. I should give you a swift kick in the balls!”
“Please, do.”
Reverse psychology? It doesn’t work!
SERENDIPIDY
I’m not a people person.
Not the life and soul of the party.
Not the outgoing, gregarious fun seeker.
Not someone you’d want to share a long journey with.
I’m not your acquaintance.
Not your colleague.
Not your friend.
I am not.
But I could be.
So why not knock on my door.
Come on in, sit down, and share a drink.
Spend some time, tell me all about yourself.
And then.
Just maybe.
If I like you.
You’ll get to know.
What I really am.
But, I’m very sorry to say, by then it will be far too late.
TOM
In pajamas all day
Mark and Ann were progressive parents, who practiced progressive parenting. Not one’s willing to introduce negative speak patterns into their toddler Timmy they chose to use the word: not instead of the word: no. The hope was it would lay the ground work for reasoning framework that would serve a non-binary outcome, over ego driven self absorbent deflection. We are after all in the age or Trump. The initial interaction with Timmy proved promising. But when Timmy got his tiny hand on the family hand gun, the Not experiment was discontinued. Sadly Timmy had already sent his parents to the cornfield.
NORVAL JOE
Billbert stood in the driveway, folding his arms across his chest. “I’m not going to pack my stuff up. I’m not going to move. I’m going to stay right here.”
His mother put her arm around her husband’s waist. “Come on, Hosmer. Let’s give it some time. Maybe Billbert’s super powers won’t get around, this time.”
“It’s not safe, Honey Buns,” Mr. Wienerheimer said, obviously losing his determination. “People will want to take advantage of the boy.”
“We’ll keep a careful watch,” his mother assured.
Billbert had just dodged a bullet, but he needed to talk to Linoliumanda right away.
PLANET Z
After years of declining voter turnout and ugly negative campaigns, the elections commission racked their brains for a solution.
“We’re changing the ballots,” said the head commissioner. “Instead of voting for a candidate, you will vote against them.”
People cheered the changes.
Candidates increased their negative campaigning.
The media went gangbusters over it, slinging even more mud.
And then came Election Day.
People flocked to the polls.
And then… the results were announced.
“Nobody wins!” said the head commissioner. “Everybody loses!”
The commissioner then ran to the airport to catch a flight to somewhere that wasn’t such a fucked-up mess.
Vegas Mass Shooting
After the Las Vegas mass shooting, people called the hotline to find out where their loved ones were.
Some were relieved to find that their loved ones were fine, and others were in shock and agony to find out that their loved ones had been wounded… or worse.
The police worked around the clock to track down the missing and report back to their loved ones what they’d discovered.
“Ma’am, we found your husband,” said the dispatcher. “He was in a hotel room with two teenaged hookers.”
The wife asked the dispatcher if it was too late to shoot him.
Crushing hope
Eternal flame? Eternal damnation?
In time, you can get used to anything, really.
How do you torment someone with the same thing over and over?
I suspect that Hell isn’t so bad, but you’ll think you can fix things to make them better, except it’s always getting a little bit worse.
Like when the screen door’s hinges squeak, so you oil them. But you end up tearing the screen’s mesh, and you have to get a new door.
An endless series of incidents and momentary glimmers of hope, dashed by frustration and failure.
Crushing hope without completely destroying it.
Like a marriage
One a day, until the day I die.
Kind of sounds like til death do we part.
Maybe, in a way, it does.
Married to the craft.
Renewing our vows, 100 words at a time.
It’s not always easy.
You have to make compromises.
You have to work at it.
Like any marriage.
You can’t always be right.
You can’t always say everything.
Leave out what doesn’t matter.
Get it out, and tidy up the rest.
Then, after you think it’s done, walk away.
And come back to it.
And with a fresh view, then you can finish it up.