Shoelaces and slugs: Dexterity to a Downfall
It was that time of day where morning had started bleeding into noon, though the 12 o’clock chime had not yet rung its tinny excuse for a toll. The day stretched out in front of me, seeming to never end in all its sweltering, splendid glory that hinted at chalk powder, the occasional welcome ice cube in the glass of water, and lavishly drawn-out cold showers. I was, as it turns out, in one of children’s natural habitats, the backyard, doing a habitual practise common for children: drawing on asphalt with chalk. At this point, I happened to notice an untied shoelace.
I had just recently acquired the well-coveted skill among my fellow preschoolers, tying my shoelaces. It was considered quite enticing and well-envied, something that all my lowly comrades surely aspired to achieve. Eager to practise my proficiency at this matter, I dropped the nub of chalk and stepped over my masterpieces to the middle of the driveway. Why, exactly, I picked the middle of the driveway to tie my shoelace is a mystery to me.
I’d soon wished I hadn’t bothered to strut to the middle of the driveway like a proud peacock. To put it shortly, there was now the viscous carcass of a slug affixed to the sole of my shoe. Of course, me being the naive, puerile child that I was, I opted to the most logical pathway one can possibly take in such a situation. I kicked off the offending shoe and hopped around the driveway on one foot, screeching like the Devil himself had dropped in for a cup of tea and a biscuit, before he reaped my soul to the Underworld.
In the end, I acquired a new pair of shoes and a beastly fear of slugs.
I can walk on the streets unafraid of
imprisoning one of our own
"Never trust handsome men, Merideth," my mother gasped, clutching my hand tightly. "You don't know..." Beeeeeeep. The words died on her lips, and my mother's hand went limp in mine.
She'd been labeled as insane...
So when the suave, debonair gentleman dressed in black arrived at my doorstep, I trusted.
Anna ate apples atop an Alpine Fir Tree, her arms awkwardly arranged around the trunk. An amazing amount of apple cores beneath Anna had ants ambling around them. An airplane flew against an azure sky, an American Airlines aircraft. Anna watched agape, amazed and eyes affixed to the airplane as it accelerated.
Anna's attention went back to the apples, and Anna analyzed the amount of apples left. There were a dozen apples, acrid and acidic. Anna's aching teeth were in agony from all the old Akane apples. She absently arranged the apples in a bucket. A leaf flew into Anna's Afro, and she automatically removed it, taken aback by the large Alpine leaf.
Suddenly an alluring man with an arrogant air appeared beneath Anna's tree. Anna's hair and dress were askew and she felt ashamed in front of this person's amazing apparel.
He said, "Anna, give me an apple. Give me a dozen Akane apples or I will get angry." Anna announced, "Aardvark!"
"Attention! Anna, give me a dozen Akane apples--"
An aardvark attached itself to the alluring, arrogant man's leg. The alluring, arrogant man was in agony. "Argh!" Anna watched from atop the Alpine tree munching Akane apples. "No apples for alluring men with an arrogant air," she announced.
They cry out and scream
As the impossible unfolds before them
chasing them through the shadowed streets of London
Holding a knife
Most of us would laugh
At the idea,
But when bad dreams hovers over your bed at nighttime
They're far too vivid
And you forget
And as reality twists into fantasy
You're too afraid and confused to tell the difference.
I try to help
To plant dreams brimming with sunshine and blooming flowers
They're already too immersed
In the nightmares
Overflowing with their greatest fears
Fridge (15-word Challenge)
You've eaten enough, I think. I resist your pull to help but you kick, cuss.
I'd driven slower
On the roads slick with frost
As pieces of winter hammered my windshield
I'd caught a glimpse
Of the tree branch falling
The bony hands
Hadn't jerked me out of the flaming car
They hadn't taken me
Hadn't sunk their claws into my skin
Mirror Mirror (Two-sentence horror story)
My reflection smiles a crude grin, showing perfect teeth filed to a sharp point. It lifts a bone-white hand and writes a message in blood on the other side of the mirror: come on over, we've been waiting.
“We all do it sometimes.”
"Why is Jimmy running around naked outside?" Anne asked.
Her mother gave her a tight-lipped look. "You've done it too."
"What?" Anne gasped. "When?"
Her mother wiped her forehead with a floury hand, leaving a streak of white on her skin. "We all do it sometimes. But most people who see it and do it don't remember."
Darkness behind the curtain
Scrubbing your scalp
Strands of wet hair clings to your perfect face
Shampoo bubbles your hair
Hot water shoots out of the nozzle
The bathroom lights flicker
Then shine again.
You glance around:
The lights flicker again
And this time
You are plunged into utter darkness.
The water turns cold
You inhale sharply
Panic rising in your chest
Blocking up your throat
A low voice hisses,
The sound is like tendrils of darkness
Like fingers grasping at you
Hands wrapped around your throat
Like shifting shadows
Darkness laced with a malevolent contempt
The lights turn back on again
You rinse out your hair
Afraid to move the curtain aside
Of what you might see.