Why do we judge? pick favorites, condemn; make the same mistakes over again...

Who do we speak to? in dialogue, or monologue; who’s listening in...

What do we mean? building monuments; splitting molecules....

When do we or how do we know? what makes is so...

Where are we? ...like right now?

#QuestionsToGetYouThinking #Challenge

*I will respond to each of these is a seperate post throughout this week and post the pagelinks here respectively. Would be thrilled if anyone would be inspired to reply in a poetic phrase or cryptic micro poem! feel free to post into the comments or tag me please from your own post so I can read! thanks for reading and have a wonderful week :)M

*responses:

1... Why do we judge...? https://theprose.com/post/211666/oyster-shell-pearl

2... Who’s listening? https://theprose.com/post/211743/when-something-disagrees-with-us

3... What do we mean? https://www.theprose.com/post/211916/searching-for-meaning

4... How do we Know? https://theprose.com/post/212034/more-questions-than-answers

5... Where are we Right now? https://theprose.com/post/212308/the-busy-signal

It’s been a year and a day

Since her daughter, that bright

Spot in her life, her everything, has

Left her, leaving a dark hole, and a deep

Pit where love, hope, and warmth 

Once resided. She knows her

Daughter didn’t leave her

By choice and that every-

One dies, but it still

Hurts so much, 

She cries a lot

At night.

The rain came last night,

Leaving puddles on the asphalt,

Shimmering in their glory like a thousand

Puddles of molten silver, rippling and lapping over 

The edges of their confines, and she wonders 

If her daughter’s soul wasn’t like that,

Wanting to get out but never being

Freed from its prison until now,

And as she looks at the water,

She thinks of how her 

Daughter liked to 

Jump in them,

But now she is gone,

Her life is but the passing

Ripple on the surface of a silver

Puddle that remains unchanged by all

Her daughter as done. It hurts to

Think this, but she knows it is

True in the general sense, but

That even after the ripples 

Fade, her daughter’s

Legacy lives on.

I was so proud of my friend boys for not looking down at my stomach when I tied my shirt up- until they started making hoe jokes

I only did it for the basketball boys really, and their attention was all eyes on me and it was great

But deep down I wonder as I recall the gazes of the other girls with their ug I hate her she's too pretty she is dressing like a slut

Would they have helped me?

Why can't we raise each other up? Don't tear me down. I know you won't say anything, but I can see it in you're eyes

And so I fight a quiet battle, becuase if I was loud they would blame it all on my tied up shirt

It shows my waist sure, but that doesn't mean permission to grab it

And as I recall the bus years and years ago I understand why the boy who still haunts me now always sat with his binder on his lap as he stared at me-but i was only 12

And I can't say anyone would support me

Because I am torn between feeling on top of the world when the boys I have mild interest in stare everywhere and comment and feeling disgusted. I am not a victom, but could I be? I mean it was just yesterday wasn't it? All of this?

"Dude we all know you want to get physical with her"

"She's so hot"

"Damn"

"I'd hit that"

"Smash"

It all felt great until I was told by another that "I wasn't gonna get anywhere hoeing around like that"

Whatever thats supposed to mean

You know I'm not interested, we're friends, so don't you dare make any comments. I deserve respect more then you do. Especially when you demean us. You have no idea what it's like.

Why can't we raise each other up? I know I'm gorgeous, but don't leave me to fend for myself in the pit of hungry males when I need help. Because someday I'm going to drown in all this when someone can't resist themselves and you will all just blame it on a tied up shirt.

Just because it shows my waist doesn't give you permission to grab it.

Noah walked in to Sonya’s Flower Shop and started looking around. He really didn’t know much about flowers and had no clue what to pick out for his mom’s birthday. He did know that red roses were for romance, but that was the extent of his flower knowledge. He hoped to find Sonya or one of her employees. A girl should know what his mom would want. He walked towards the cash register, looking her help, and stopped dead in his tracks. The cashier was definitely not a girl. The cashier was the hottest guy Noah had ever seen. Short blonde hair, stunning blue eyes, slim athletic body, and looked like he was in his mid-teens just like Noah. He guessed the guy had to be sixteen to work in the shop, but he looked no older than seventeen. He composed himself, so he wouldn’t look or sound like a complete idiot and walked up to the cash register to ask for help.

Aiden spotted the boy as soon as he walked in the door. Hot as hell. Dark hair, dark eyes, tan skin, and looked about the same age as he was. Aiden chuckled softly to himself. The guy looked completely lost in the flower shop. Gift for a first girlfriend maybe? Aiden sure hoped not. If he could get a read on this guy, he wanted to ask him out. The boy started walking towards the cash register, stopped, then started walking again.

Noah took a deep breath and thought about what he wanted to say before he said it. He was always nervous talking to new people, but this guy made him even more nervous than usual. “Uhm, excuse me, sir. I was looking for help picking out flowers. Is Sonya here? Or do you happen to know anything about flowers? I’ve never bought flowers before. I know they all mean different things and I’m just so confused on what to buy.”

Aiden grinned. “Well, you’re off to a good start. You are correct in that I am not Sonya. I’m her son, Aiden. We live right upstairs, and it’s always been just me and her, so I’ve helped down here for as long as I can remember. I’d be glad to help you pick out some flowers today. Who are they for? A new girlfriend?” Aiden caught himself holding his breath waiting for an answer.

Noah blushed and couldn’t even look at Aiden. “No. I don’t have a girlfriend. They’re for my mom. It’s her birthday tomorrow. It’s been a rough year and I wanted to get something special for her.”

“Aw, that’s sweet. I hope everything is ok. Do you know what kind of flowers she likes?” Aiden asked.

“No idea. And yeah everything is getting better… for both of us I think.” He looked up at Aiden finally. “Could you help me pick out something a mom would like?” He shrugged and gave Aiden a shy smile.

“Yeah. Of course.” Aiden walked out from behind the cash register. He clapped Noah on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s look around.” He glanced at Noah. “By the way, you never told me your name.”

“Oh God. I’m so sorry. I’m Noah. You said your name is Aiden?” Noah asked.

“Yeah. I’m Aiden. A pleasure to meet you, Noah. Now let’s pick out some flowers.” Aiden said with a smirk.

They walked around the little store for about fifteen minutes. Aiden showed Noah just about every flower arrangement in the shop. Finally, they narrowed down the choices and Aiden began trying to engage Noah in non-flower related conversation. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before? Did you just move here? What school do you go to?”

“We just moved here from across town. My parents got divorced. I’m still using my dad’s address to finish my junior year at West Side High. Which means senior year I get to start at a new school. I hate that so much.” Noah’s smiled instantly turned into a frown.

“Hey, I’m sorry. That really sucks.” He put his arm around Noah’s shoulders. “I’ll be a senior next year, too? Will you be going to Mystic River High?”

“Yeah. So, I guess I’ll know one person at least.” Noah said looking up at Aiden. “I’m sorry for getting emotional. I’m still getting used to the whole thing.”

“No worries, Noah. You pick out a college yet?” Aiden asked.

“God, no. Still working on the applications. I don’t even know what I want to do with my life yet. Ugh.” Noah rolled his eyes and laughed. “I’m such a mess. Just put my picture in the dictionary next to ‘teen angst’.”

Aiden laughed and poked Noah in the ribs. “How about next to ‘teen hottie’ instead.”

Noah blushed and cleared his throat. “Uh, I think I’ll go with these.” He pointed at the display of tulips.”

“Good choice, especially this time of year. Tulips are a great spring flower. I’ll put in a few assorted colors. I’ll be right back.” Aiden went into the back room and a few minutes later, he returned with an armful of tulips. “Here you go.” He looked Noah up and down. “So, you play a lot of sports?”

Noah blushed again. “I run track and cross country. I used to play baseball, but I don’t anymore. What about you?”

“I get enough of a workout around here. Lots to do with lugging bags of soil and fertilizer everywhere. I don’t have a lot of time for sports.” Aiden said.

They arrived back at the cash register and Aiden took Noah’s money. “I guess this means I’ll have to let you leave now. I hope your mom loves the flowers.” Aiden said, looking disappointed.

Noah glanced down at the flowers. “Hey, Aiden, you made a mistake. There’s an extra flower in here. A different kind.”

Aiden’s grin returned. He reached into the bouquet of flowers and pulled out a single red rose. “It’s no mistake. It’s more of a question. Would you like to go out to dinner with me Friday night, Noah?”

Noah nearly jumped for joy. “Yes! Absolutely, yes! I’d love to go out to dinner with you.” After putting Aiden’s contact info into his phone, Noah left Sonya’s Flower Shop, clutching his rose close to his chest, happier than he had been in a long, long time.

Trust me when I say, this can never reach the press. It is too dangerous; even now I take this risk in telling you.

I consider you to be a friend, someone I can confide in, so give me your word you will never tell a soul.

Then let me continue.

It started in 1977. Two people died in what was called an automobile accident, but the truth ... their brakes were partially severed and snapped when the car went down the far side of a mountain pass in Colorado.

In 1979, there was a house fire. Killed five people. It was originally ruled faulty wiring. It happened at night.

In 1981, seven people were shot to death at a private party. It is still an unsolved murder.

By 1998, fifty-six other people died in what would be called strange and unexplained deaths, although that same year, two others died from gunshot wounds to the face. Again, unsolved.

There was a break until 2016. Four people in different houses in the same city were found dead. One by gunshot, two by being beheaded, and one by strangulation. None of those deaths were related to each other.

I tell you all this so that you understand I cannot change what I am, or who I am. I have this animal living inside me that comes out, and then all I feel is rage, and the need to feed on the pain of others. I enjoy watching them die and bleeding out. I derive a huge amount of gratification, almost like an intense sexual release, but even better.

And even though I call you friend, I have you tied to that chair, so you cannot run away from me as I told you this story. Tonight, you are my sole captive audience. And I need this badly. By telling you, I am relieving my soul of what I have done.

When I walk away from you, my soul will be cleansed, as if nothing I have done in the past ever existed. I walk away with my hands clean, almost pure.

What? Will I still set you free? Of course I will. Right after I slash your throat and taste your blood.

There, now you are free, my friend. My secret is safe with you. I can begin over again. I am reborn.

Now, I feel much better; knowing this story will never be told.