Mama?Mama?Mama?5 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
It was going to be a bad winter. Marquis could feel it in his hands, theyd never quite recovered, and tell by the way the blood was struggling to pump through them as the days got darker and shorter. He wasnt old by a long-shot Thirty next year, still good! but he completely sympathised when the old stable hands began their groaning. Powder white snow turned grey as he sludged through it, soot from his boots leaving a trail behind him as he fought his way to the main hall. All around him horses were being saddled and loaded up and men in uniform milled restlessly, blowing into gloved hands to warm them up, and Marquis refused to look at any of them. They were all in on it. If they werent someone would have mentioned it to him already and hed just known something was up when guards had been avoiding him for the last week. His pack, only half completed, was being dragged behind him a
Gingerbread HouseThey were sitting silently on the counter, awaiting duty; 3/4 teaspoon of baking soda, 3 1/4 cups of flour, and 2 teaspoons of ground ginger.Gingerbread House6 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
She mixed them delicately, grinning to herself. The kitchen was her kingdom; where she resided and did whatever the hell she wanted. And, most of the time, she just wanted to cook. Her flour powdered hands rubbed quickly over her stark white apron as she hummed a nice little tune. Winter sunlight streamed in from the small window above the sink, but she could barely remember that it was February. The rip-off calendar next to the spice cabinet was five years old.
Her smile curled higher as she whipped with the manual mixer. She never used the electric one. It just took out all of the fun of doing it yourself! Her paint-neglected lips parted in a happy sigh as her left hand secured the bowl; she lifted it up and spun in place. It was like a private little slow dance at her senior prom! Oh, how ni-
"Moooommy," echoed a long, drawn-out whine of a sic
EvieEvieEvie6 years ago in Mystery & Suspense More Like This
Around you the log cabin is cosy. Its one of those picturesque little places in the mountains and, as always happens here in winter, its snowing hard. Youre sitting in front of a roaring fireplace with your back against the sofa (Though isnt it an odd through; a fireplace in a log cabin?). The rug beneath you is thick and your bare toes could grip at it were you inclined to try. A mug sits beside you on the floor, still steaming from the pot. The light is dim, your mates have crashed for the night and get real anal if you leave the lights on while theyre sleeping. Damned if you know why, the fussy bastards. At any rate, youre not tired. Youve brought a book and some writing to do in moments like this, and with little company other then the crackling hearth, now seems the opportune moment to get down some thoughts from earlier.
As your pen hits the paper, t
Mind VomitI pixelate IcarusMind Vomit6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to forfeit my counterproductivity.
Who needs rose tinted glasses
when you have
glazed eyes enamelled sighs
and sugarcoated insomnia.
I long for movie tomorrows
instead of these
xylophonic beclazone dreams.
I want to saturate the grey matter
without a hint of remorse.
I want to play the undersleeper,
pinning back my eyelids with
the idiolect of those I'd like to know better.
Do you want to hear my mind vomit or should I
just turn the page and start again...?