Word of the Day: #4-Destruction

Destruction

My hips start to sway in rhythm to the angry tempo of my stomping boots. I tread a trail of anger and frustration. The beat of hate is when the sound of broken dishes or the scene of thrown eggs almost seems satisfying. This is the path of a scorned women. This is what comes before the tears. You feel like screaming at the top of your lungs, but instead lift a glass of destruction to your lips.

Who doesn’t feel destructive sometimes? The important part is to find reason before acting! I find writing and drawing very helpful when I feel this way. What about you? If you have anything to share feel free to comment?

The Petals of Life

My weekly response to Ermilia’s weekly Picture it and write prompt.

Red In Common

The Photo is from Tumblr

A petal falls, from the tuxedo pocket of a high school boy

A petal falls, from the wrist of a high school girl

Petals have fallen and petals still fall,

Two years of falling petals

A petal falls, from the bouquet of a late fiancé

a petal falls, from the bouquet of a smiling bride

Petals have fallen and petals still fall,

Twenty-two years of falling petals

A petal falls, from the plant in the waiting room

a petal falls, from the plant in the cancer specialist’s office

Petals have fallen and petals still fall

Two months of falling petals

A petal falls, from the bouquet on a hospital bedside tray

A petal falls, from a gripped fist onto the waiting dirt

Petals have fallen and petals still fall,

Tomorrow they will fall again

 

UnBEARable Jealousy

I’m a stuffed bear with one eye. The lack of my glassy eye is the first thing everyone notices about me. They might not say it right away, but I catch em staring all the time. I really don’t see the big deal. Ken, the barbie doll, is missing his whole left arm. He says he lost it in the Great War, but he also says he’s an action figure.  I’m sorry, but action figures don’t wear plaid shirts, khakis, and flip flops. He’s a very confused toy.

A giant fairy wand had been thrown across my brown fluffy chest and no matter how hard I pushed I couldn’t get the blasted thing off. Blond curls had bounced all over the place earlier, as isabel, my owner, had tossed toys randomly in the chest. I’ve been with her for six years now since the first ride home from the hospital. I no longer sleep with her, but usually she places me at the top of the jumbled mess in the dark chest.

The chest slowly started to brighten in a pink glow. Someone had turned on the glow bunny. A bunch of rusling was going on to my left and then a loud bang went off as a letter block tumbled into the darkness. The chest went silent. Who ever was messing around was an idiot. If they woke Isabel she would spend the night in fear of boogie monsters, again.

“Hiya Sarah, you need some help?”

I looked up into a white fuzzy bear face with two perfect black eyes. Of course, it was lucy making such a racket. She was kind of clumsy. We had the closest friendship formed over the last two weeks.

A Dark brown face popped up beside lucy’s smiling face. Johnny… He is new to the toy chest and boy is he dashing. Plump face and soft fuzzy hair. Well, in teddy bear standards he was someone you wanted to smile at. Lucy and I had giggled and blushed everytime he shuffled by or played with the little cars handed down to Isabel from her brother. When he smiled, the cutest dimples appeared for all the female bears, Lucy and I, to faint in awe.

Yesterday, Lucy and Johnny decided to hangout. I felt a little left out and then angry when they started laughing and sharing secret smiles.  After the unbearable two minutes since they started hanging out, I decided to make a plan.

And then here they were standing over me and asking if I desired their help.

Of course not I wanted to shout, but instead I let them lift the wand off me. Lucy invited me to tea, which I guessed could only be “unimaginable hours of fun”, but it would be the perfect moment to put my plan into action.

“Johnny,” I said.

He turned to me, jumped in surprise, and said, “Oh. You scared me. Your missing eye is a little haunting… Anyways, what can I do for ya?”

It didn’t really faze me. His reaction I mean. I’ve only know him for two days, but this was his reaction every time he saw me even if it was only a few minutes ago. He was so reliable and perceptive.

“I hate to tell you this, but luchy said some astounding things about you.”

Johnny frowned and threw the toy car he had been holding at the chest wall with such force it came back and hit him in the head. It was such a surprise I opened and closed my mouth a couple of times and was at a complete loss for words.

It must have been the shock of her fake betrayal.  I mean, Lucy and Johnny have been in love now for the last five minutes. His heart was literally ripping at the seams and I was having second thoughts, but then I saw Lucy in the background bouncing around collecting the tea cups and plates for the fake scones with her two sparkling beady eyes.

“Well, Lucy said you were nice to look at, but your head is just filled with stuff and fluff,” I said.

His face grew dark, and he stomped his way back to Lucy. He then raised his hand and slapped all the tea cups back to the ground. They scattered, bouncing and rolling out of sight. After some arguing Lucy went to the corner and slumped to her soft knees.  Dust puffed around her, she rested her head against the chest wall, and soft cries began to shake her now cobwebbed shoulders. It was pitiful and sad.

I had won, but at what cost. Actually, Lucy and Johnny’s heads were both filled with stuff and fluff. They kind of belonged together.

I went to Johnny and came clean about my little lie that had just happened to destroy their love. He didn’t throw a car or slap anything which kind of disappointed me. He just walked over to Lucy and picked the pitiful bear from the ground. Lucy fell into his grasp, nuzzled her head under his chin and I suppressed the rising fluff of disgust in my throat.

Seven long, horrible, never ending minutes later the bears with fluff and stuff in their head came around Inviting me to tea again.

Lucy cleared her throat and lowered her cup of tea, “Hey Sarah, I saw a dolly in the corner with buttons on her dress, maybe we can fix the scary hole in your face.”

Johnny choked on his imaginary tea and I chucked the pink teacup in Lucy the beautiful white bear’s direction.

The end

Morals

  1. Stuffed Bears are kind of abusive and have extremely warped minds.
  2. Tea, and forgiveness are the keys to bear friendship.
  3. Jealousy is a great motivator, but always with bad outcomes.

Who Cleans the books at night?

This is for picture it and write from Ermilia’s blog.

MINOLTA DIGITAL CAMERA

Only three more books, and then I would be done with all the last names starting with the letter S. That was my given schedule for however long it took me. Every night, I managed 15 books and they were old and weathered, but cherished all the same. It took a lot of effort to pull the heavy books off the shelves, for I was a smallish library sprite. Most sprites stand at one and half feet tall, but I’m a shy millimeter from being a foot tall.

I was pushing in the last book when I saw Hunter through the shelf cracks. He should have been done long ago since he was a tall sprite. The books seemed effortless in his hands and I was usually the last one to go back into my assigned book. He turned around and caught me looking. I quickly ducked down, but saw his smirk. Dang, he has often caught me looking. I try not to, but It’s his bright green eyes with the dark lashes that catch my gaze and that smirky face.

“Lilly, I know you’re there.”
“No, I’m not,” I said and mentally slapped myself on the forehead.
“Are you spying on me?”
“No, I’m just wrapping up and going home.”

He came around the isle with a book in his hand.

“What are you doing with that.”
“I’m going somewhere different,” He said and started to flip the book open.
“That’s illegal, big no no, you know what they do to sprites who jump stories!”
He looked at me, raised his eyebrows, and said, “Yes, they give us more books to clean.”

He traced his hand across the page and looked up at me.
“What book are you stuck in?”

I actually would give anything to have a different story. Mine is filled with sadness and anger, and an ending I haven’t made it to yet. One day I will know my whole story, but you only get to the end when you’re very old. I try to always aim for the best parts, but sometimes I have to relive the evil ones.

“Yep, you’re in a sad book too,” he said. “Lets go to the ocean for one day.”

My heart flickered with lightness. I would love to go to the ocean. I had heard Emma, my spunky friend, talking about it before. She had said her book had a giant white whale in it, whatever that was, which lived in an ocean.

He placed the book on the shelf.
I gasped.
“Hunter you are dangerous. First you’re talking about jumping stories and now you’re shelving books in wrong spots.”
“Pish Posh, I see Frank do it all the time.”
“That’s great, so if Frank rips a page out of a book will you too?”
He looked hurt. “I would never rip a page out of a book,” he said.

And then he smiled at me and jumped into the book. I just stared at the empty space he left behind. I walked back and forth twice and then he jumped out of the book causing me to fall over backwards with a small yelp.

He started to laugh and so did I, until I heard the familiar sound of a tapping cane. Oh no, it was the library guard sprite. He was always in a bad way.
Hunter stopped laughing and held out his hand. I looked at his hand and then up to his still laughing eyes. He smirked and we jumped into the waiting book.

Heart2Heart: Digging up the hatch…

Months ago, I had ripped my broken heart from my soul and put it in a shoe box. Well, this is just a metaphor and I wish it was a little different. I would tell you I took my feelings of love, turned them into a sparkly butterfly, and set it free in a meadow, but that would be a bunch BS. Pretty, but BS all the same. It wasn’t the easiest break off to say the least. My slow stumble of regret/sadness had turned into a walk of embarrassment/letting go and then finally back into a normal happy go lucky jog. It takes effort to just move on, but it eventually does happen.

My story in life has taken many routes and I want to share with people the disaster, hope, love, and comedy of it all. I still have plenty to share with many surprises to come 🙂

–Katie

Waiting on a letter…

The picture is by Nikita Gill and this my take on the weekly picture it and write found on Ermilia’s blog.

Nikita Gill

When will the winds change? It’s been so long since I’ve received a letter back. I began to light my candle lanterns and send them across one at a time. I’m afraid to sleep and miss the south winds. What if I’ve missed the letters you’ve sent?

The other day my hair stopped flying in my face and began to whip backwards. I had dropped everything and scared ma half to death racing out of the garden. She was yelling for me to come back, for there was still planting to be done, but I was flying towards the river. It had been too long. 37 days to be exact. I had stood there till the sun set and later that night cried silent tears.

Nobody swims. To swim is forbidden unless you had a death wish. I don’t know how long the people have been separated by this undrinkable water that burns the skin and I worry about what would happen without the rain. I once heard it was the people who lived here long ago that ruined the water. I’ve often thought about taking a boat, but with all the wars you couldn’t just sail to another’s land. What if something has happened to him? What if he’s finally moved on? I hate my blasted skin color. If I was his people’s color then I might have been able to blend in.

I was sitting there hugging my knees to my chest when the wind changed. A small flickering light began to grow and a sob escaped my mouth. I quickly covered my mouth and almost died waiting for it to reach me. If the wind changed I would throw myself in the water. It reached me and I held a candle to the words.

My dearest love,
I’ve waited 37 days. I told you in my last letter we couldn’t do this anymore and that you needed to move on with your life. I threw myself into work. I cried shamefully when I wrote that letter because I didn’t want it to end. I wanted to selfishly keep you to myself, but this isn’t away to live. I’ve decided to make it my goal to end this war. If not for the fact that we as a people would grow into something better working side by side, but for true love. I’m sorry my love for putting you through this.
Love, Henry

I never received the letter he was talking about and I’m glad I didn’t. The pact was eventually made. We were old and didn’t have many years left, but it didn’t matter.

My soul; a small piece of Coal

I am no more just a Dusty blackened coal
The flakes of my past lift, breaking off
To drift with the wind
.
I don’t know what was there before, But
your impulsive kiss was a spark
that Grew into a waving flame.
It was the hushed whisper Of shared feelings, like kindling
who built a fire, licking my soul, warm at first
then the confusion set In.
.
Your indecisive actions…one minute wanting
The next minute leaving. The fire kept building
Consuming, with nowhere to go, only left to combust
It had to stop! It had to stop?
.
a bucket of sorrow, letting go,
then a plume of smoke rises in the air and when it clears
I am no more, Just a dusty blackened coal.
.
-Katie