Looking down at his phone, Daniel got a sickening message. It was an image of his wife’s car, in his best friends driveway. She’s supposed to be at her parents’ house. He thought, confused. His friend didn’t know that, though, as Daniel starts wondering. He texts Lisa’s parents. There wasn’t a response until a few minutes later. ‘There wan’t a dinner planned, do you want to work something out?’

What a horrible response. Lisa loved him... right? Well, he’s on his way home. He had married Lisa 6 months ago, and before that, they dated for a little over 2 years. He treated her extremely well. If she wanted something, he got it. No questions asked. He was a big part of maintaining her health, mental and emotional, as well as physical. He was a great man, too. He was kind, (mostly) funny person, and he looked great too.

Well, he took his ring off. While he loved the fuck out of her, lying to him so he could sleep with his best friend? That wasn’t great. Lisa was a beautiful girl, but she was verbally abusive, and she drank. A lot. She spends more time in a bar than she does with her husband. Or as Daniel is finding out now, with his best friend. This progression of messages was a shitty one.

‘Image’

‘She’s back.’

‘This time she wants more than cuddling.’

Daniel stared at this message in horror. He waited until Marriage for sex, and then after that, this. Is this what he deserves for following instructions? He didn’t do anything wrong, this time. He went to work, chilled somewhere for about an hour for his lunch break (which he takes at the end of the work day so he can get home faster), and that was it. He skipped eating for her and she does this?

He knew how he could make up for whatever mistake he made. He would get her a new car. Her old one is almost a decade old and she’s been complaining about it. So he bought one. The one she’s been dropping hints about. It was expensive, but if this solved this issue, it would be worth it. Lisa swore she wouldn’t do this unless he messed up big time. This is a big-time purchase, should balance out.

A few hours later, she didn’t come home.

The next morning, she wasn’t home.

It was around noon when she finally came home. I was worried out of my fucking mind. "Who's here," Lisa asks. "Are you cheating on me, Danny?" I blink.

"N-no, that's for you-"

Lisa's face lights up. The hints she dropped were extremely subtle, so for him to pay so close attention to her was nice. It almost made her feel bad for the things she did yesterday. The things she successfully did. "Oh, thank you, baby!" Daniel didn't have any idea how thorough Lisa was, she was fucking his best friend.

He smiled. "Of course, Lee." He would do it again to have her being faithful again. He didn't know how long she was doing this. He wanted it to stop.

"Could I have the keys?" Instantly, he hands them over. Lisa's face turned instantly into a look of disgust. "Good little bitch." He looks confused and hurt. "Did you really think I was going to believe your little lie? You are an idiot, Daniel. Maybe if you kiss the ground where I walk for the rest of your life, I'll cry at your funeral. Or what, did you say you wanted to be cremated? Nah, doesn't matter." Daniel starts to cry. Then he scowls. Then he smiles. Everything she had, he owned. She wouldn't leave him. He's relieved. This was the best thing he'd experienced in a long time. Besides the marriage, of course. He smiles and walks over to her.

She does something she's never done. She reaches into the fridge, downs a beer, and smashes the bottle over Daniel's head. This was also new. As he lays on the kitchen floor, he wonders if he deserved this. "I suggest you let that one marinate." She walks out. Out of the kitchen, out of the house, and drives her new car out of the driveway, off to her parents', leaving me with her old car, and in it, divorce papers.

Happy Mother's Day, to all of the Mothers of Prose.

"A stately Angel

With a form that is full of grace,

But a tired, and toil-worn mother

With a grave and tender face.

Thinking back upon the years of my life when I have reached the threshold of life itself, your mother might well say in the words of the poet:

'My body fed your body, son,

But birth's a swift thing,

Compared to one and twenty years

Of feeding you with Spirit's tears.

I could not make your mind and soul,

But m glad hands have kept you whole.

Your groping hands

Bound me to life with ruthless bands.

And all my living became a prayer,

While all my days built up a stair

For your young feet that trod behind,

That you an aspiring way should find.

Think you that life can give you pain

Which does not stab in me again?

Think you that life can give you shame

Which does not make my pride go lame?

And you can do no evil thing

Which sears not me with poisoned sting.

Because of all that I have done,

Remember me in life, O Son.

Leep that body fine and fair, My life is monumented there.

For my life make no woman weep,

For my life hold no woman cheap,

And see you give no woman scorn

For that dark night when you were born.'

These flowers which you see on my altar are symbols of that mother-love - the site, the love of the mother who has gone - and the red, the mother who still lives to bless your life.

Far in the dim recesses of her heart

Where all is hushed and still

She keeps a shrine.

'Tis here she kneels in prayer

While from above long shafts of light upon her shrine.

Her heart is flower fragrant as she prays.

Aquiver like a candle flame,

each prayer takes wing

To bless the world she works among,

To leave the radiance of the candles there.

We want each of you to take a flower from this Altar. If your mother has passed over to the other shore, you will choose a white flower and keep it always sacred to her memory. May the sight of it always quicken every tender memory of her and strengthen you anew in your efforts to be worth of her hopes and aspirations for you. If your mother is living, choose a red flower. When you go home tonight, give it to your mother. Tell her it is our recognition of her best gift to a child - their mother's love. Take her in your arms and say - 'Mother, I've learned a great lesson tonight. The memories have helped me realize more fully how much you really mean to me. I'm going to try to show you daily how much I appreciate the sacrifices you have made and the love and care you give me.'

Someday, you'll find that flower, I know not where, perhaps in her prayer book or some other sacred place, a silent witness to what this night has meant to the one whose love for you, her child, is beyond the comprehension of any son. My friends, each of you will please take a red or white flower from the Altar, and show your mother what doesn't go unnoticed.

I’m probably not the best person to explain this.

I have trouble talking to people. I have severe trust issues, but I’m trying to reach out to new people, but it just gets me anxious. I’m very aware of the things that can happen to me, especially online. That’s why I’m writing this.

We can learn together. Not only how to love, but what it feels like to be loved. I have a small circle of people I give the high honour of being in my company. It’s not me being a snob, it’s literally because I can’t be friends with a lot of people due to my social anxiety. I assume everybody’s out to get me and I don’t go out in public often, so in the past few years, two maybe, I’ve been alone with 4 or 5 people outside of my biological family. Within the past year, I’ve seen 3 people. My S/O, @RedWingsBlack , and @AnneLGray. I don’t trust anybody else. I find it a little easier to talk to people online, but that’s difficult.

But back to the topic at hand, love. To me, Love is dropping everything because something has gone wrong. If that means I need to starve for a week, then that’s what happens. Love is not something I use lightly, because it shouldn’t be used lightly. People have made the term “I love you” seem a lot lighter, and I said it a lot to somebody I shouldn’t have.

So here is my guide to love, (from somebody with trust issues and is also clingy):

Tip one:

Reserve your “I love you”s for somebody that you know is important, and isn’t going to abandon you for somebody better at their first chance.

Tip two:

Keep that person very close to you. Better to seem clingy than uninterested. If you think they will leave, you aren’t doing it well enough. More on that later.

Tip three:

Keep your circle of friends small. There’s less people to worry about, and if you’re the only person they have to worry about, then they are gonna be less likely to ditch you without good reason. If they do ditch you, then you know this person will ditch you again in the future.

Tip four:

Do whatever you can to be their ideal version of a friend. People tend to stay with somebody that is worried about what they want.

Tip five:

Keep the people you trust close. If they want to keep you close as well, then you can keep your eyes off of them for at least a little bit. They won’t harm you unless prompted.

Tip six:

Learn the patterns of the people you trust. What do their messages look like when they are angry? What about when they are sad? What does it sound like when they call you? Anger, sadness, happiness? What if they just want some time alone? Figure that out, so you can always stay on their good side. Read the tone of the messages.

Tip seven:

Keep our emotions down. The less you need to be taken care of, the longer your friendship will last. You can let it out later, therapists exist for a reason.

Tip eight:

Tell nobody of your tactics. This list is for your gain. The more people find out about it, the worse off you are.

Tip nine:

Follow your friends. find every last detail you can about them. When you know everything about them, you can offer better advice.

Tip ten:

Don’t just sit there while they rant, or talk. Ask questions. They’ll want to talk more if you are active.

Tip eleven:

Smile more, make yourself seem smaller, look at their lips. The more superior they feel, the better. If you make them feel powerful, they’ll be more likel to pay attention to you.

Tip twelve:

Keep yourself in check. Read the proverbial room, and keep them happy.

Tip thirteen:

When they are happy, you are. Your life is just fine, you’re always just alright. If they are doing good, so are you. If they are doing badly, you’re upset over it. Ask them what’s wrong.

Tip fourteen:

If they leave, do everything in your power to get them back. They should be your world. Nobody is their match.

Tip fifteen:

Be extremely compliant. They come before you, no matter what. This is the most vital piece of information I can give you.

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This is extremely incriminating, I know. You’re welcome.

Take care, please.

Winter.

It's been a little over 3 years now, I think. Thank you, Prose! Just felt like saying it, because y'all have provided me with a lot. So, thanks. Have a good day, Y'all.

TRIGGER WARNING, this is extremely violent. This does include death and probably won't be continued.

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I watched him as he went through the experiments, passing with flying colours. I only had to intervene twice, so kudos to the proctor, I guess. I watch as he writhes in pain, emitting some small arcs of electricity. I write that down, smiling. Then stop. We haven't used electricity yet. I look up, and his eyes are glowing a miraculous blue, and I'm shocked. His eyes are a nice green colour. Then the examination room goes greyscale, and then pure white, as 1,000,000 volts of electricity. After this flashbang, I stumble around for a second, finding something, anything to lean on. I put my hand on something... sharp. I pull my hand away, bleeding heavily. My vision slowly returns, and then I see what I landed on. Glass. I look confused. The only thing glass was the window to the examination room, and that was supposed to be able to withstand 5 hand grenades in a row. I become more confused, looking into the room. Nobody was there. The only thing that remained of the examiner was the shadow where he stood. No ashes, nothing. I sigh, then stiffen as I felt electrified. I turn slowly, having heard some crackling. I see him. "Adrian, stop." I mustered all of the courage in my body in that sentence, then blink, as a pale hand reaches for my face.

The last thing I hear as a living woman is: "You're strangely confident...!" I feel 1,000 volts go down my spine. Literally. The electricity has arced through me, and killed me.

***

When they first started the torture, I knew my first victims. They had injected me with something that would "Give me powers." I had no idea what they meant, until now. I saw him raise the knife, and I saw red. I felt my entire body start tingling, and with the rage of the other poor 50 souls that failed their experiments, I scream. This wasn't a scream of pain, it was a scream of bloodlust. I notice a quiet crackling, and then I feel the knife enter me. I tense, and a lot of electricity flows through me, into my tormentor. I had broken the glass. I smile cruelly. This flashbang didn't affect me, because I saw the woman on the other side of the glass. I dash silently through the room, going through the small hole I made. Landing perfectly and silently, I watch her put her hand onto the glass. Internally, I'm laughing as I see the glass on the other side of her hand. I ball my fists, energy crackling.

"Adrian, stop." She says, surprisingly.

"You're strangely confident...!" I smile, placing my hand over her eyes and then shooting the equivalent of a lightning bolt through my arm and into her face. Well, instead of lasting for half a second, it lasted for 10. 20. A minute. Two. I pull my hand away, laughing manically. "You're strangely confident, for a dead woman." I stomp on her head, smashing it open and leaving.

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Take care,

Winter.

Dear [name]

I asked for respect, I got emotional manipulation. You asked me out, and I was naive. I said yes. We dated for a while, you said I could come to you if I needed help "any time you want". So, I went for help. I got not only turned down, but a break up.

I didn't want this, and supposedly you had bigger issues of your own to deal with. Yes, because dating the person I held closest to me is the biggest thing in your life, not me. Somebody I considered family, is the person you decided to date within an hour. An hour after breaking up with me. My sibling. Now, I did mention that I was naive, but now I know you, much better than I did before. I know you inside and out, and I could impersonate you if I wanted.

Best wishes,

Winter.

Over the past week and a half. Well, 11 days, I have been almost unable to sleep. I know exactly why, and that's the worst part. I have gotten a total of 30 hours of sleep and I'm exhausted mentally emotionally and physically. I have been told "It's okay, dogs die all te time, now you have it in control." "Everything happens for a reason." "Just get a new one." It's not gonna work like that but I appreciate the sentiment. It's harder and harder to look at myself and think that I made the right choice. It was one or the other, was this the right one? What would have happened if I let her keep living?

Well now that I've put the weight of a life on my shoulders, It's hard to breathe. It always has been, and it will be fot a while. I've been made very aware that this will pass, though. I don't really care becaust that doesn't bring her back.

Please take care of yourselves, not mant people can do it for you.

My music taste is the ohio accent of music: It's all over the fucking place and it's a mix between all of the possible Genres. Except Country, I can't get behind that. Pop is weird too, but whatever. One second I'll listen to set it off, and the next, Mozart. It's weird, but I'm weird, suck it up :)