Uhm Arms
Can I lend you my arms to keep you warm at night?
They instantly know what to do to set your mood right.
They fold and bend and stretch out and wiggle at the end.
They lay around and listen when you just need a friend.
They have a shoulder connected that you could use to cry on.
That is partnered with a torso your head could use to lye on.
If all of this doesn't keep you from being left out and alone.
You could always text me in the middle of the night
or
call me on my cell phone.
#metoo
Nothing For Christmas
Matthew and John met under the Fourth Street bridge as they often did. But this was no ordinary meeting. Tonight was a special occasion. Each man carried a cardboard box under their arm which had been wrapped up in great swaths of old newspaper. John had even folded some newspaper into a sort of a bowlike shape and stuck it on top of the box.
"Merry Christmas, John!”
“Merry Christmas, Matthew!”
“I trust you are having a merry holiday?”
“Indeed, my good man. Why this very evening I feasted on pheasant under glass with foie gras and truffles.” As he said this he scratched the heavy, unkempt beard under his chin and felt a small pigeon bone which he flicked away carelessly. “How fare you this day of days?”
“Tolerably well, John. My valet was somewhat careless in serving me my soup this evening, as you see by the lapel of my Brooks Brothers suit.” So saying, he pointed to the large blot of soup he had spilled on the outermost of his three coats at the soup kitchen he had just come from. “I would have discharged him of course, but this being the holiday season, I was inclined to be merciful.”
“An attitude that does you credit, my good man. And now, if you will permit me, I must admit to my curiosity being somewhat piqued by that large package you carry beneath your arm. Whatever might that be?”
“Well may you ask! It is, as a matter of absolute fact, a small token of my appreciation for your friendship and counsel this past year. Merry Christmas, John.” With a grand gesture he extended the parcel to John who accepted it with his free hand.
“You are too kind, sir. As it happens, the parcel I carry—which I fancy you were mere moments from asking about yourself—is a similar remembrance for you, friend Matthew.” So saying, he handed his own package to his friend who took it in both hands, not unlike an eager child who can't wait to see what Santa brought him.
The exchange complete, there was a brief debate as to who should go first. Ultimately, the honor fell to Matthew and he tore open the paper and peered inside the ratty, slightly moldy, shoebox which, as it did every Christmas without fail, contained absolutely nothing. But Matthew’s face broke in a wide grin and he reached into the box, closing his fingers around empty air as though he was holding an imaginary object in his hand. He held the invisible something to his ear, and smiled as he imagined the tick of the precision Swiss made gears echoing in his ears.
“It’s beautiful! I shall wear it always.”
“I took the liberty of having it engraved.”
Matthew looked at the back of the nonexistent watch and what he pretended to read seemed to get him all choked up. He wiped an equally invisible tear from his eye with the left index finger that poked through the torn tip of the wool glove he had found outside the convenience store three months ago.
“I will treasure this gift, and the kind words it bears, for the rest of my days. Now, I must insist that you open my gift to you. Though I am certain it will pale in comparison to this wonderful token.”
Just as Matthew had done, John opened the gift and smiled with delight as he beheld the box’s lack of visible contents. He reached in and seemed to remove the two small objects with his fingers. Then he began fiddling with the sleeves of the torn, ill-fitting, long-sleeved tee shirt he wore under his many outer layers of clothing. Afterward, though there was no visible change to them, he held his wrists up for Matthew to see. “How do they look?”
“They suit you perfectly, old man! And as you can see, they too are engraved, though only with your initials. I didn’t have the room for a personal message, as you did. Rest assured, if I had done, I would have expressed my gratitude at being able to count you among my closest friends.”
“Thank you, my friend. I shall wear them to the great New Year’s Eve Gala. Will I see you there?”
“Have you ever known me to miss a gala?”
“Of course not. Whatever was I thinking?”
“Well, this is a most satisfactory Christmas, is it not? And now,” he added, glancing at his bare wrist, “I see by my beautiful new watch that it is very nearly midnight. Just time enough I think for a spot of Christmas cheer.” He reached into the copious pockets of one of his coats and removed a bottle of very cheap gin and two paper cups he had found in the street and cleaned as best he could. “Join me for a brandy?”
“Matthew, it would be my absolute pleasure.”
As John and Matthew shared a midnight drink of brandy to celebrate another wonderful Christmas together, a nearby radio crackled and part of a late-night broadcast was born on the night air…
“...another clear night, but temperatures are falling and it is looking very good for those of you looking forward to a white Christmas next weeek. The time is now nine-fifteen and you're listening to...”
“Merry Christmas, Matthew.”
“Merry Christmas, John.”
I Didnt Mean Anything To You
Cody- Hey Anne,
Anne- Hey whats up?
Cody- Look these last few years have been great but. . . i feel like maybe we should see other people.
Anne- Cody are you breaking up with me.
Cody- Look its not you its me
Anne- I dont understand what do you mean, you dont want to be in arelationship with me anymore?
Cody- Look it didnt really mean anything okay, im sorry but its over.
Anne-
Cody- Anne
Anne-
Cody- Are you okay?
Cody- Anne?
Anne-
Cody- Anne are you oka
Anne- No!
Cody- Anne lis
Anne- No! No! No! No Im not going to listen, You Are!?!
Anne- How can you just say that its over, Its Over, NO, I have alwayst been there for YOU, Who waited weeks for YOU to answer your phone, and who was there for you in YOU GOD DAMN TIME OF NEED WELL YOU KNOW WHAT NO, IM NOT DOING THIS ANYMORE AND YOU KNOW WHAT IM DONE, IM DONE WAITING FOR YOU AND IM DONE, I DIDNT MEAN ANYTHING TO YOU.
Number Blocked.
The End.
The Moon princes Part 1.
It was not long after the curfue started that i began to wonder what lay beond the wood for all of my life i have wanted to know, though part of me still dreaded the very though of it due to the story, Yes the story of Sam, age 9, date of disaperence 7/20/1922 in the old woods/ thats what people call it at least/, but any way that doesnt matter now then i guess because they never found the poor boy and it has already been six years. So the odds of still finding him alive were little to none at this point, they say it was a monster that took him but personaly i have my own theories of what happend to him that day, he was my friend after all and with all of my being i intended to find him, so when night began to fall i pack a bag and began my mission into the old wood to find him.
Hello Family It’s Me
Hello, my real name is Sharonda Juanita Briggs, and that is my picture, when I started I didn't know I had to desquise me.
Let me introduce myself to all my family in the Prose. I am the person that love the way you all write and I love being recognized as someone that writes with my heart instead of for show. I love to write. I hated English, but I love my Teacher. I was the only black person in her class and the majority of my classes in high school. Yet, for all of my three years being there I was the only student asked to come back to her class until I graduated. That taught me that it's not your color but your Flare. I loved high school regardless of the circumstances, and believe it or not I only had one prejudice encounter and that was my accounting teacher. She loved making fun of me every day because I was the only black person in her class. But I am the type of person that speaks my mind, and if it's not right, I will tell you it's not right. I told my counselor and she let me do my work from her office the rest of the school year. I had no choice but to pass me, even though she gave me the hardest work she could find. I graduated from her class with an "A-". And my counselor said she didn't have to put the minus on my report card, but she did. I dedicated my doing well, to people like her with that negativity. "You pull me down, and I going to fight that much harder and more to come back up!" I graduated from a Confederate school. I met the nicest people. I am a firm believer that they should leave our statues up of the Confederate soldiers and people. I feel that they are Someone Grandparents and rather we like what they stood for or not, they were still loved by someone then and now. And we were not here then to carry feeling about what happened. That's just my opinion and I really don't care who agrees with me. I have several races in my family and we love each other no matter what. Well, that's how I feel about Prose. Everyone here is so different, but we can all RELATE. This is how I feel about hatred, If you had a glass with old orange juice in the bottom and you wash it out, the glass can be used again and start over. But If you let it rot in the bottom and never remove it, eventually the glass is ruined and you will have to throw it away, and there is no starting over. Simple business. I despise bullies! I wish they put them out of school forever and make them homeschool only. Leave that negativity at home where it started from. Let the children that want a better life continue with all the help they can get without confusion. On another note, I am a 53-year-old woman that was born with arthiritis that loves cartoons. I love comic books and I calm down to color pictures. I have written/illustrated/published 5 children books so far, and I am almost finished another book coming out in November. I don't like drama and ignore negative people. I am the type of person that cares if someone is feeling down. It bothers me. If I can say something to you to bring you up, then I'm on a mission to do that. If I annoy you, I know how to walk away and don't make it worst. I married my wife of ten years, two years ago. I have two children, 4 grands and about 30 godchildren. I love them all. I started a challenge on my website www.fistchallenge4kids.com to put books back in children and teen hands. Please visit it and you will see a lot that relates to me. I I hope to be well known one day and sell alot of books. But for now, I have a hard enough time finding a sponsor. But I am a survivor and God will continue to Bless me as he do. I'll wait my turn. Thank you for letting me vent again. And Welcome to the Prose Family :)
not yet thanksgiving
At 39 years old I can I say with absolute certainty that I hate being asked what I am thankful for. No one ever appreciates my answers, so the first thing I will say that I am thankful for is not being appreciated. It has given me the massive capacity to lie convincingly on the spot. Which has also helped to develop my imagination and creative writing skills
At 5′ 3″ I am small and rather ordinary. I am easily overlooked and underestimated. I am thankful for this, as it has allowed me to utilize my intelligence, resourcefullness, and natural inclination toward deviousness instead. It has also allowed me to perpetrate shenanigans without suspicion.
I have been witness to much violence in the home, and it has left a mark upon me. In its own way I am thankful for it. I have been shown what it is wrong, and it allowed me to see what is right. This stain of violence led me to find a stable and loving relationship, where support is always standard, and we choose eachother.
I am thankful for choice, and the ability to see that even if the choices are between a rock and a hard place, they are still choices. I think too many people believe they have no choices. Just because you do not like the options, doesn’t mean you don’t still have the freedom to make the choice.
Lastly, perhaps most frivolously, yet no less important to my wellbeing, I am thankful for the ability to experience my pets. To say care for them seems woefully inadequate. I feel they give me more than I could ever provide for them. The jellybean toes, soft underbellies, twitchy whiskers, and rumbly purrs are just the beginning.
Boom
There was something catchy and light playing overhead. Lorraine sat, right stockinged-leg crossed delicately over the left. Her eyes saw but didn’t see as gloomy field after rainy pasture flew past her. She read but didn’t read the paper she balanced on her knee. She heard but didn’t hear the light, catchy notes that filled the closed coach. She felt but didn’t really feel the gentle rocking of the wheels coasting along the rails hour after hour. What did catch her attention was the shadow in the hall to her left. And what did catch her eye was the sudden flame as it burst from the silver lighter. And her nose caught the sharp smell of gasoline. And her hands caught on the wrist that held the impending explosion just as the flame tumbled from it. The clock struck midnight and she just barely caught her breath. The clock struck midnight and the still-lit lighter caught the trail of petrol lining the halls. The clock struck midnight and...