I make these internal deals.

Don’t cry now. Cry in the shower. Later. Today, my belief rocked, I refuse the deal.

Something springs to mind: a t-shirt printed with “I almost stopped believing today… Journey is gonna be so pissed”. Stupid. I laugh through tears.

At a railroad crossing, a train approaches. I pause on the tracks.

If I don’t move soon, the engineer will need to make decisions. I’m sure there’s a “sad idiot on the tracks” protocol.

I accelerate and continue on my way.

“… she took the midnight train going anywhere”

Lyrics now stuck in my head.

“Surprise!” Patty said, waving the wand at Brian.

“What? This is kind of sudden, don't you think?”

“Sudden? We've talked about having kids…”

“Some day!”

“Some day has arrived.”

“Look, you kind of sprung this on me. We're not ready. You really want to raise a kid here?” Brian said, indicating their one bedroom.

“We can get a bigger apartment…”

“You got a raise? Hidden savings?”

“We can spend less, save more.”

“Not interested. You should look for a new place.”

“That's it?”

“This isn't working.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Were you joking about having a baby?”

“No.”

“Me either.”

Grandma kind of sprung it on us, and we laughed so hard, it should be tagged #ROFL.

We had returned after laying Grandpa to rest among the bush and the earth he so loved to commune with, and Grandma was reminiscing about their five decades worth of journey with moist eyes.

We got a glimpse into the man; the husband, the father, the soldier, and friend. A life lived with gusto, and zero regrets.

“So what now, Grandma?” someone asked.

She replied like a catapult snap:

“I am getting a bloody electric blanket first! He never let me buy one.”

Jake leaps over the spring surrounding the cottage. He tiptoes, trying to avoid crunching leaves that still litter the yard from last autumn.

He arrives at the door and places his finger on the doorbell. Pressing down, -bing- the spring inside presses back, -BONG!- and echoes throughout the walls of the solitudinarian's home.

Startled, Henry springs out of his recliner, "hooray! Company!" And with a spring in his step, rushes towards the door.

He opens to find nobody. Excitement turned disappointment.

"I need to fix that damn doorbell. Spontaneously rung again." Or, as Henry likes to call it, "Sprung."

When death surrounded me with its heavy white veil of melting ice, I wonder if this is all there is or will be.

It's hard to recall, much less believe, that life will come again and green my soul with new life. So deep into dying, I go always spiraling down into darkness so far I can't see my hand in front of my face.

And then it comes, as it has every year of my too long life. Just when I decided to call it quits, a crocus of all things springs out of my filthy piled up life.

The email came and I sprung for it. Savage Amazonian Mixture Adds 3+ Inches. I was done tired of my little pecker. I'll never forget Marylou when I pulled it out on her. "Is that yer pecker?!" So I clicked the link, linked my card, and pressed Submit. Seven long business days later it came. Little old zipper bag of white powder. Pronto I mixed it in water and drank it. And then, nothin'. Porn sites. Nothin'. After two hours of nothin' I took a look at that package. God damn if I didn't drink a glass of plant food!

Warm spring light reflects in the small puddle of liquid resting in the windowsill.I remain in my chair,every rock causes a musical crunch to grace my ears. Calmly, I take in the day that would be clear, if it wasn't for the pollen drifting by in the air, some even comes through the broken glass window to rest.

"You know today is the kind of day we hate," I tell the figure sitting quietly next to me. "Luckily neither of us have to worry about your allergies anymore." The bloody corpse doesn't answer, but then I wasn't expecting it to.

Sprung forward by obligation but always a step behind. Bills pile up, laughter dies down, and the party quietly fizzles out. You wanted to go home hours ago anyway.

You have to call your mother more. Clean your kitchen. Fix the broken stair. Your mother wants to know why you’re not married yet.

Bloodshot eyes roll back as you toss back a drink. This used to come more naturally to you. Now it makes you grimace.

You realize you never really liked those friends anyway. So you stop going out for drinks. Maybe you’ll teach yourself how to crochet instead.

Jack sat. Deep in thought he sat. In his cellar he thought and thought. The old crank. No one went in. No one went out. The little corner where he sat was dark, dark, dark. The old crank. The laughter of children annoyed him. To be frank, he rather liked the dark as it was, and his thoughts to match. He had no future going out. He sat quiet as a mouse. Twist, twist. The old crank. Time in his cell would soon be up. One more turn. He'd gotten so used to it there. The old crank.

05.27.2024

DrabbleChallenge:"Sprung"@Ferryman

"Imagine that," I wondered aloud as I hung up the phone.

"Imagine what?" she asks anxiously, sitting across from me, her preteen face full of worry.

"Imagine I know every lie the second it's told."

Imagine she believes it. I don't know every time people lie. I'm her role model, though, so she believes me.

"...I'm sorry. I didn't know it would be an issue."

Imagine I was simply speaking to fill silence.

I'm sorry, I don't understand how I'm so good at catching little rebellious actions. I do the same routine every time. I wasn't even on the phone?