He Made Me SmileHe was like a large teddy bear, all wrapped up in Christmas paper for you. Just when you thought no one cared in the world – there he appeared bounding happy and caring, a gentleman to you.
And he sat there and said such wonderful things - how smart you were and "hey look at this" and you could almost guess what his family makeup was. He had a brother for sure, but no sisters. You could tell by his confidence and his smile that it was internally happy. Just everything about him was happiness and deep caring. And you deeply cared back.
You could get lost in his ways – how he worried about you and cared for you and wanted to be there for you in your dire moments.
And you sat there and whispered to him things that you should not really say, softly into his ear, because hey – you had both come from the same background anyway.
20 years of the same stuff it seemed, and jointly between you was a smile and a deep caring that only you two would know.
And you knew instantly, ev
What They Don't Tell YouWhat they don't tell you about death is the phone call. They don't tell you that you can't tell the difference between a normal ring and one that brings bad news, that there's no warning and no time to get your bearings.What They Don't Tell You5 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
It's a couple days after Christmas, and I'm on vacation in Williamsburg, Virginia with my family exploring the Jamestown settlement and the recreations of The Mayflower. My best friend hasn't returned my calls for the last two days, but finally the phone rings. So I pick it up, expecting a conversation about Christmas presents or schoolyard gossip. Instead, the voice on the other line asks to speak to one of my parents. I hand the phone to my mother and watch her facial expression change: her eyebrows come together, her forehead crinkles, the corners of her mouth turn down. Her voice becomes low, hushed, and urgent.
Finally, she hangs up and sits down next to me on the bed. Then she tells me, carefully, as if divulging a secret. My classmate of nine years died in a fre
this is harder than ''i'm sorry''I know I'm the last person you'd expect to hear fromthis is harder than ''i'm sorry''2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
but the way you used to say my name is impossible to forget:
like a secret. Like a lifeline. Like I was the only thing keeping you tethered to this world.
And I know we drifted apart. I pushed you out to sea without a thought of where the swells would take you, or what monsters the waves would wash up on your shorelines.
But I swear, I'm not the person I was. And I don't think you're the girl you were.
I think you liked yourself better when you were seen through my eyes, when every conversation was a love note I wrote you with my voice. You used to find yourself so much more exciting, but to me, you were goddamn electric.
Now I'm not asking you to come back into my arms or my heart or my sheets, but I'm begging you to come back into my life. My sentences were more eloquent and my words were much more confident when I knew you were in my audience. It's a sickness, this thing that pushes my pen to paper, that implores me to write, but
thawingmy love,thawing3 years ago in Letters More Like This
i swear, there is a ghost beneath my bones.
she slides around the rungs of my ribs, gentle like a lover's hands but cold, so unlike yours. i lay in bed at night, days after you have gone, your jacket and seven blankets struggling to keep me warm -but her arctic touch seeps deeper, slides its way past my lips and settles in places i swore only you could touch. and i am left gasping, arching, desperate for a body one hundred and thirty eight miles away, a voice that doesn't seem nearly as warm after traveling through the airwaves, a spring that only exists in your arms.
because i miss laughter, i miss your eyes, i miss the feeling of thawing after forty days in the tundra of my own heart, and two in yours.
Feeling Forever"I've got something on my mind."Feeling Forever4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"You always say 'forever'. But what does that even mean? My parents once said 'forever'. And look where it got them."
"Forever isn't just something you say."
"Then what is it?"
"Forever is something you feel. Something, that when you look at the person, you just see it. When I look at you baby, I feel forever."
Plain and Simple"I've been racking my brain, and I just can't figure it out."Plain and Simple4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Figure what out?"
"Why you love me."
I love you because it's as natural as breathing to me. The way you laugh, the way you smile... it's like my sunshine. Your voice, the way you hold my hand; it reminds me why I get out of bed every morning. All your insecurities and your doubts, they're nothing compared to what you can accomplish. You're everything perfect and unique. You're the most amazing person I know, simply...
"Because you're you."
a beautiful stranger.i'll tell you i'm a dreamer.a beautiful stranger.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
i swear it's true.
and i'll tell you i'm not that beautiful but i have a heart made of glass that's as pretty as pretty can be but easily broken so please take care. i'll point at my arms and describe every charm that laces me colorful and why they are my world. i'll explain how i want to succeed and achieve and believe and create and that i love people.
i really do.
i love their idiosyncrasies and the way they laugh and the way they cry and the way hope always whispers in their ears when everything is crashing to the ground. i'll tell you how in the middle of the night, when everything is silent, i listen to your breathing and memorize the way your chest rises and falls and as my own breathing slows i beg god not to take you away from me.
i'll tell you how i want to rent a cozy apartment in sunny california and play music and write a novel and dance modern jazz & contemporary and read a million books and drink fruit cocktails and learn new things and hang
orange juiceand i don't think you ever understood, that you ever could, that at the last beat of your heart, mine quivered.orange juice3 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
because we were the porcelain girls, sliver-lipped like moonlight and not breathing a word.
we sold our souls for solace but lost our flesh along the way, skeletons slipping free from skin and bending at the break. we were idols -cellophane skin and ossified bodies trapped betwixt five-thousand character limits and image size constraints, binding our bodies by the same. we were lost to decimals and the space between our thighs, tea and tablespoons, calculations and heartbeats.
you found me in pieces, numbers, blurry webcam photos.
you told me:
babe, you're sick. real sick. scary sick.
we can do this, together. i'll help you. just, drink some oj, okay? your heart is weak.
you need to go, now. get out before its too late.
i left, but you were the one to never come back.
a year later, i found you at nine.
the figmented number, single digits glory, the point
broken hearti.broken heart3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
my heart is just paper for muscle and ink for blood, but i like to think that if i tore out a few pages and bound them in leather, it might just mean something.
and i tell you, i want to tell you, no, i am not more than that. i am not human, made up of muscle and bones that break, but words. i am books and flowers and the coffee i had this morning because, no --i cannot be me. i cannot be this.
i don't want to be here, scared these little sinews are snapping like dental floss between my hungry teeth.
i've smeared my make up over your neck and collarbones, wrinkled your shirt with my paint-chipped nails, and somewhere between the first pain and hiccup of a sob, i've forgotten how to speak. you hold me tighter each time it steals my breath and listen to make sure i remember how to after it passes, say my name softly to remind me to stay with you.
and you've pressed your hand over my chest, as if keeping it there will hold the weathered organ together.
thirteen steps to falling in love1. i spend the first two years we know each other sprawled out in the back of our school bus, trying to befriend girls with cigarette ash for skin. it takes months of letting tar settle in my lungs, but finally i find myself sitting next to you.thirteen steps to falling in love2 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
2. when we are fourteen, you write out my name in an entirely new alphabet of obtuse triangles and right angles and on a chilly fall morning, dare me to guess who it is you like. i lie my way through the entire school year until two weeks before summer, when you give me all the clues.
3. to this day, you swear you fell in love with me the fall my mother was given her expiration date. i tell you the first morning of our sophomore year, and even though we are too scared to touch, your words would mean more than every heavy embrace up until her funeral.
4. you watch me fall down the stairs just once, and after seeing how i fold in on myself, swear never to see me hurt again. for four years you've caught me, and have amended th
Life's BonfireWhen the time comesLife's Bonfire3 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
And God calls my name
I will make a stake
Of all my mistakes
All dreams and hopes
Desires and friend
Of all I loved
And the ones who left
On the bottom I will put
Tree climbing, first bike
Always alone at home
That didn't feel right
I don't blame you Mummy
You were so young
I don't blame you Daddy
That you worked all the time
Then will go the pain
That ruined my life
And my childhood was gone
And I wanted to die
Next it's time for the people
Who hurt me or left
So called boyfriends
And forgetful friends
And these few moments
I wouldn't dare to tell now
What I did with them
On the top of that pile
I will throw my love
And the God will judge me
On all that I did
All I've left after
The proof that I lived
Like the DesertHer name was Savannah, like the desert.Like the Desert4 years ago in Emotional More Like This
She had hair like dried yarrow, a dusty sort of wind-blown color with freckles smattered across her cheekbones like speckles on a robin's egg. She was small, tiny, petite- a string bean with a garbage disposal appetite.
But I was smaller. Sickly small, the kind of thin that turns heads and gets them whispering.
It was our first bikinis, and we were ready to face the world together. Savannah had retreated to the bathroom to change, knocking on the whitewashed door before coming back into my bedroom.
I was transfixed by this creature, this lanky girl whose knees were wider than her thighs. I stared at my reflection in the floor-length mirror, mossy eyes looking right back.
My hips jutted out like to perfect mountain peaks, the space between them a valley. My bones crawled underneath my skin as I moved, cockroaches scavenging for their next meal.
Savannah came beside me and looked at my reflection, then at hers. Assessed the difference. S
Tightrope WalkerI grasp the coldTightrope Walker5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
bars in my hands,
and tightly close
my eyes... my mind... my heart.
I step up the rungs,
one at a time,
as fast as my feet can
take me... let me... make me.
I reach the absolute
top of the world,
and I feel my heart
beating... racing... stopping.
I spread my arms wide
as far as I can,
and pretend I'm
flying... soaring... escaping.
I take a small
and feel the rope
sag... stretch... snap.
I keep steady
while I walk,
and feel myself
twitch... sway... shake.
I hold my breath
and shut my eyes
as I imagine myself
slipping... falling... dying.
I catch myself before
I lose all control,
and I try to keep
walking... breathing... living.
I reach the other side
as I fall to my knees
and I look back to see
my accomplishment... my success
Dropping EggsThis is the best way I can explain it. Explain why I didn't get hurt.Dropping Eggs5 years ago in Emotional More Like This
It's like that project we did in seventh grade. Where we had to drop an egg from a ladder and keep it from cracking.
you pad it and try to keep it in place in the hopes that when you drop it, you won't see yellow goo sliding out. And you wait and you wait and you watch it as it falls, praying it won't crack. The more you watch the more you think and the more padding you wish you had added. So as you prepare you add more and more padding so that when the time comes to drop it, you won't dread it as much.
Well that's what I did. I knew it was possible my egg might need not be dropped. But more likely it might. And I knew that when it did it might crack. So I prepared. I padded and made sure it was firmly in place. I checked and I wondered and I became ready. So when it dropped, it hit the padding I supplied, and it bounced back- unbroken.
And this way there was only one person I could blame if it broke. Not the egg- it
Supernova GirlWait for me, supernova-girl.Supernova Girl4 years ago in Emotional More Like This
You are buried under Winter's slopes, awaiting Spring's blossoms- the earth your grave.
You lie, quiet and composed, innocent, algae eyes aflame behind closed lids with hands clasped like perfect clam shells. You wait, tiny finger nails painted iridescent blue like the ocean, the sky, like the morpho butterfly you saw nailed up inside an empty frame on the wall. You breathe, rose petal lips parted and cobwebs sticking to your face, dirt pressed into your palms and deep into your senses.
I will dig amongst the December snows and unearth you, supernova-girl, lace my fingers with yours and whisper "I'm home".
first.i'm a girl and you're a sunrise, letting me watch you burn across the sky. i'm not pretty enough to be you, not smart enough to catch you when you fall. i dig my fingernails into your palm, not wanting to let you go. you know how it is. you're a boy, and i'm something that could have been.first.4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
you curl your fingers over the frets. we could've been something great. my guitar's hanging next to the television. i wonder if you sold yours. was it too painful? there's still static, smoke curling across a frigid landscape. i used to write songs, you know. don't get too confident; they weren't all about you.
gosh. it seems like eons ago. autumn nights are so cold on the island, but we're warm. the cabins are empty, because no one takes a vacation in october. you know how it goes; we're both falling. not in love, but out of it.
i miss you like i miss not breathing. you don't notice it, but it's there. i let myself forget you a long time ago, but you're still here. an echo, mayb
alpengloweverything hard-kept in the heart is falling onto paper. each word so well-fought to be kept within the chest becomes a snowflake from november skies, but the winds are unseasonably warm and a fire is kindled inside each bone in place of a bitter chill.alpenglow3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
there are ten thousand things i can never tell you.
the way that wars are fought, i wage battles among my selves to keep the quiet. you will never hear my voice, too soft like the pillow beneath your head each time our bodies find each other, say how my breath becomes a porch swing when we touch and i sway.
i can never call you by any name, given at birth or given by heart. you will never see my cheeks flush fires when asked what you are called, or feel the tremulous tunnels i do as your mouth twists into the shapes of words like "beautiful," or "babe."
i cannot tell you of the poems i write to keep my lips locked tightly; not even a winter wind can howl through its denseness, not even the chimneys stoked to keep the c
a letter of hatred, to myselfdear child,a letter of hatred, to myself3 years ago in Letters More Like This
dear little girl,
dear sweet, innocent, beautiful melissa,
there is none of this that you would choose for yourself; there is none of this that you would see coming. a beautiful infant, born bright yellow like your favourite dress when you were three, you were perfect. you wore jaundice like a mink stole, blocked tear ducts like cat-eyed glasses. you cried because you were unafraid to show others how you felt: you were not scared to let them care.
strangers paused your parents on the street to peer inside of your stroller, marvelling at the porcelain doll within; the big blue eyes, reflecting the sky in grandeur and wonder; the rosy cheeks that meant you were healthy. you were beautiful, and as awareness became more than an abstraction, you knew it.
hours were spent in the mirror and every reflective surface that came across your path. dearest melissa, you were a brilliant star to behold.
on loving lengthwisei.on loving lengthwise3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
in my near-nineteen years of life i have never wanted something, someone so much.
[no, i swear, not even death itself]
waking up without you hurts.
even though you don't have one, i slept with my webcam on last night so maybe you could catch a glimpse of me sleeping.
you say i shiver in dreamland, and i tell you that's because i hardly dream --there is nothing in my mind then but grey matter and cold air, because even with the heat blasting at seventy and four fleece blankets, i have trouble making my own warmth.
you told me that even so, i was smiling. and i said that though i don't remember, the only explanation would be that i was dreaming of you --before you were mine, you were my only dreams worth remembering. now, you're the only ones i ever have.
going out in winter seems colder than ever without you here.
it makes me think of years ago, when i found that without flesh, it is impossible to insulate bones. you would sit next to me every morning on the bus, and f
HoN - FreedomI could never believe it. After all the fighting and wars, the simplicity of watching the sunset was mesmerizing. It always washed away my fears, so that for one moment, I could forget. Forget the responsibility thrust onto my shoulders, the endless heartbreaks and troubles. Forget that somehow I was supposed to save the world, but that it was all too easy to make a choice that could destroy it. I just wanted to escape and drown in the sunset. The simple concoction of reds and oranges as they climbed their way up the skies, resting briefly on the water's edge as the water danced with it, the way the ocean tickled your toes, tempting you to join it in dance. I wanted to delve in the ways of the ocean, never to return to the surface. I wanted freedom.HoN - Freedom5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
I wanted nothing more than to just sit in the sand without a single worry. From the cliff where I sat, the land stretched out around me, just a few moments from the shore's edge below. On the tip of the horizon I could see many islands. It
The place stories come from'Sometimes people wonder where stories come from. A person can tell a story about something so unbelievable, yet so wonderful that it seems real. That's because it is.The place stories come from4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I don't wonder about it, though, because I know where stories come from.
It's a magical place with thousands of enchanting creatures, beautiful plants, trees as high as sky scrapers and heroic people. Whatever you can think of, it exists there.
Every once in a while, people come to witness all of this. They watch the talking trees, dance with the fairies and feel the heat of a dragon's fire. Eventhough there are many people at the same time, you don't walk into them. No matter how long you stay there, you won't meet any other visitors or even know that they're there.
Stories come to us for a reason. It's because we saw something, met someone or did somewhat unusual things that we remember. We remember them and write them down or tell them to others. That's how stories are born.
It's a place I've visited s
What if...One night, Taiwan and vietnam were walking by a stream in the forest. It was all very silent until Taiwan decided to ruin the beautiful silence. "Hey, Vietnam," "What is it, Taiwan?" "What if Japan and China were gay?" "W-what makes you think that?" Vietnam asked stuttering. "Well, they always hang around other guys, they're sometimes girly, and well, they don't like hanging with girls." Taiwan replied.What if...3 years ago in Humor More Like This
Another silence, then, "Vietnam, what if they were gay for each other?" "Oh, my poor paddle... Has to hit them both....idiots....." "It is kinda hot though," "Taiwan!" "What? I mean, they always hang out and they always hang out together... Well sometimes they're with their own groups, you know, axis and the allies...." "Well, I guess so... If only Hungary were here....."
The two continued to walk while talking about the same topic. After a while, they started giggling. It was one of the rare moments that Vietnam actually smiled. Then they started laughing like mad. When they
EllieEllie is pulsating rivers under wax paper skin; she is delicate, fragile, beautiful.Ellie5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
She is innocent eyes and wind-blown hair, tiny fists and determination like fire.
She is fifty-eight pounds of invincible, and she'll show it.
She is eight years of a tragedy, a front-page story in the making for all the wrong reasons.
She has hair like reeds dying in late fall and eyes like wild truffles, a mermaid suffocating in a mud covered estuary tangled in cattails. She is desperate, defenseless, Mary's little lamb sent to slaughter amongst sheep; she is too young to even count.
She is the sister of darling Lolita, a witness to a crime so dark, so cataclysmic, it has branded her. She is living life with her mouth-stitched shut with lies made of golden thread and a sea urchin spine needle. She has witnessed the most daring crimes against humanity, she has seen murder against the still-living, she has seen those raped of their souls wander halls empty-eyed.
She is love packaged up in tissue paper
incendiaryit was the city -- you know, a self-contained organism, a microcosm of reality in which we all take part. it's like a play, with our very orchestrated roles rehearsed perfectly until we can pull them off as smooth as ice.incendiary4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
it doesn't matter which city, because really, they're all the same -- paris, milan, barcelona...lawrence, pittsburgh, atlanta.
what matters is only that we were in the city. i was myself, playing the role of a love-struck jeweler, praying i could find just the right gem to put on my lover's finger someday, and she was herself, playing the role of sara.
sara, my love; sara, my heart; sara, the snow beneath my feet, the ice begging for me to slip
but still, we were here. glimpses of this city swallow my hunger -- i might never eat again if this were my home, the way it filled me up. but the moment i broke eye contact with this entity, this city with its glittering skyline, i felt the hollows in me ache again.
it felt rig
arabella.sometimes we close our eyes and pray, don't we?arabella.4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
when the panic sets in.
a split second.
when you're glad it wasn't you.
and the shock of the bad news is fuel just to do it.
just to get down on the chilled stone floor and clasp your hands towards the altar.
like in the books.
but not really.
your eyes kind of get forced shut, by this feeling of complete submission to the graciousness of something bigger than yourself.
it's all shock.
and there's a meeting for the entire school in the hall.
a little girl died today.