Twisted

socs – mudai (untitled)

you throw open the doors
thrust out your chest
and bare your scars
like trophies of a life
indescribably regretful
you hand me the glass
a rough shard to magnify
the edges of your wounds
and you say
“examine
but don’t
judge…”
and all i want
is to pick out the flecks
of pain
like sand, never
letting
you
heal
your words are your pearls
beautiful
your voice screams your guilt
heaviest of metals
and all i want
is to bow to your agony

let me sew up your gashes
where your art escapes
and bleeds out your passion

…but no
if you stop bleeding
i’ll die.

badge by Doobster @ Mindful Digressions

badge by Doobster @ Mindful Digressions

Find Stream of Consciousness Saturday here, and join in: http://lindaghill.com/2015/01/16/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-january-1715/

SoCS – In and Out

The facts are unshakable. Incontrovertible. I saw him with my own eyes, laying in the coffin, eyes closed, hands crossed on his chest. They had him in a black suit and a white shirt, with a boutonniere; a red carnation. He could have been going to the prom. Only he wasn’t. In fact he prevented my sister and so many others from going to their proms. He was a killer. And I’m glad he’s dead.

As they nailed down the lid of his coffin I laughed a little on the inside. Maybe it was nerves. I have them now – a week later. I got a call from the police, in fact I just hung up – contacting his other victims’ families wasn’t fun. He’s gone missing from the grave. Did someone dig him up? Or did he get out himself?

What I didn’t mention to the police, nor to the other families was the damned red boutonniere I found taped to the outside of my living-room window. Even after a week it still looked fresh. Alive, even.

This post is part of SoCS: http://lindaghill.com/2014/11/21/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-november-2214/ Join in the fun!

badge by Doobster @ Mindful Digressions

badge by Doobster @ Mindful Digressions

SoCS – Memory

A picture,
the scent on the clothes you left behind,
and a memory
is all I have left.

She places the photograph on the table beside the mirror in her bedroom and stands back to look at it. The frame is guilt and the image is one of profound regret. A ball forms in her chest, a balloon of grief waiting to burst.

But the time is not right. She can’t let it go. Not yet. There are many things to do; arrangements to be made, people to see, hands to shake, and mouths to feed. Explanations to be invented.

And then there was the private eye to take care of. He knows everything.

Her political aspirations can afford no compromise.

badge by Doobster @ Mindful Digressions

badge by Doobster @ Mindful Digressions

This post is part of SoCS! Join in now! http://lindaghill.com/2014/10/31/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-november-114/

Fit to be Tied

How should I lace you up? Should I tie your feet as well as your hands? I should probably strip you first. It will make it easier.

What is that? I can’t understand you with that gag in your mouth. Why are you moaning? We agreed to this.
Am I hurting you?

Fine, I’ll loosen the gag. Is that better?

Excellent.

First I’ll slip off your tie. Mmmm, silk. I love this tie. Now give me your hands and lean forward so I can tie your hands behind your back. What, you want them at the front. I… don’t think so. And lift your ass so I can pull down your… oh yes, you’re into this, aren’t you?

Stop struggling or I’ll truss you up like a pig. You don’t like that idea? No, I didn’t think you would.

First your hands. There we go. And then your feet. So nice of you to take off your shoes and socks at the door. Ah, yes, that’s right. You were expecting sex, weren’t you?

So glad we agreed that if I caught you cheating again I could do whatever I want to you.

Your lovers? I think I might have tripped one of them up on her way out the door. There were three of them after all, waiting here in my bed for you to get home from work, weren’t there? Apparently none of you were aware that I was home sick but still doing your laundry in the basement.

So where shall I begin?

Did you get the garden sheers back from being sharpened like I asked you to? I was getting blisters from trying to cut the hedges with dull blades. You did? No? I think you’re just saying that.

Never mind.  I just emptied the water out of the high-powered Shop Vac I bought you for Christmas last year. It took me only three hours to empty the basement after the flood last night while you were out with the boys. I tell you man, that thing sucks so hard you could use it to pull the dandelions out of the ground, roots and all. What, not the sucking you were looking for this afternoon?

For God sake stop trying to scream. We agreed to this, remember?

What’s that you’re saying? You’re sorry? You certainly look sorry.

Just a minute, there’s someone at the door.
….
….
….
Good news. It’s your mother!

Originally posted in 2013 on The Community Storyboard.

Just A Day in the Life of a Villain, Volume 1

“I’m sorry Mason, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to terminate you. You just don’t have what it takes.”

Mason stared at the dank, dripping wall of the cave, in shock. It couldn’t possibly the last time he’d see the inside of this place. His job had been his life.

“But sir…” he began.

“I’m sorry,” Master Humpsmadinck repeated.

Mason stood. He stared at the man who had been his boss – his savior.

“You may as well just take the bicycle.” Master Humpsmadinck said.

Mason’s eyes went wide with disbelief. “Seriously? You’re going to let me just… take it?”

“You may as well,” Master glared at him through lowered eyebrows and his upper lip curled. “I can’t exactly use it now, can I?”

Mason thought of the Master, with his cape flying behind him, riding the bike and he let out a little giggle. He jumped when his superior slammed his palm down on the desk.

“I don’t understand what you thought you were doing!” Humpsmadinck’s face nearly glowed as his colour rose in his cheeks. Mason had never seen him this angry before.

“But sir… you told me to bring him back here.”

“Mason, how many times do I have to tell you? You DON’T carry a dead body on a ten speed!”

“But it was wrapped in a black garbage bag…”

“And that’s supposed to hide the fact that it’s a 200 pound dead man? What if the cops had followed you back here?”

“I didn’t think of that…”

“Exactly!” Master screamed, his voice cracking. “You don’t think! Now I’m going to have to reanimate the man you brought back here to do your job. Do you know how much work that is?”

“I can help you!” Mason said hopefully. He was genuinely shocked when Master began to laugh.

“You have to be joking! You? Help me reanimate a man you just brought back to the office in a garbage bag on a push bike? Puhlease!

“Get out of my sight.”

Mason’s jaw dropped. “That’s it? You’re just going to let me go?”

Master smiled. “That’s right. Thank you for reminding me. I said you would be terminated, didn’t I?” And with that he pulled a gun out of his desk drawer and shot Mason in the chest.

SoCS – Read, Read, Red.

The red phone rang nervously – or maybe it was Jeff who was nervous. He’d read somewhere that when the red phone rings, it meant disaster. Perhaps it was the reading of the seer, the fortune teller but he knew the red phone would ring.

Many nights he’d lain awake but now the day had come. He picked it up and said hello into the receiver.

“Jeff? It’s your mother. Why did you wait so long to pick up the phone?”

“Mother? Why are you calling me on the red phone?”

“Jeff… you were never born.”

____________________________________________________________________________________

This week’s prompt will be slightly more of a challenge, should you choose to accept. Your prompt is to include the word read (present tense), read (past tense) or red. The extra challenge? Publish without reading. Just do your best while you write, then make a really squinty face and pluck up the courage to hit that button. If you’re brave enough to do it, make sure you tell us you’re going to at the end of your post.

Find SoCS here, http://lindaghill.wordpress.com/2014/06/13/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-june-1414/ and write your own Stream of Consciousness Saturday post!

My Addiction, Part End

I listen to the music
that you like all day.

I taste the food you enjoy
(I know because we go to the same restaurant)

I smell the shirt
I stole from your locker at the gym
(I sleep with it)

I feel between the sheets
how you must feel…
(between the sheets)

I see
I see

When you leave your house I watch
you get into your car
and you drive to work.
You laugh and you joke
with the people there
and you drive back home.

I see you walk away from me
when I try to approach you
why
can’t you love me too?

I am your
You are my
addiction.

My Addiction, Part Middle

Why
are you running away
when we were getting
along so well —

Why
do you not answer my calls?

Why
are you so aloof
when I want you
so much —

Why
are you looking at other girls?

Why
are you making my life
so miserable
…?

Entranced – Stream of Consciousness Saturday (Entrance)

You stepped through the door and it was like a bolt of lightning to my soul. Your eyes hypnotised me and your arms as they drew me in, felt protective and yet…

The knife in your hand as it stabbed me in the spine…

I died, still entranced by your eyes.

This post is part of SoCS: http://lindaghill.wordpress.com/2014/05/09/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-may-1014/ 

The Haunting of You

I wonder why cheap wine and expensive tunes make you look so good. In candlelight, with dust and cobwebs in the air, our haunted existence glows with anticipation. How many blackouts must I endure? When I wake, you are there, your hands hovering clawlike above my throat; deep inside me you sweat out your passion like so many bats escaping the belfry of your scattered mind.

My breast wants for your offspring. My hands long for your skin. My love… my love bleeds droplets of rain upon the umbrella of your instability. And yet I keep drinking my cheap wine. For if I don’t, I may lose the illusion of the dream of you.

I hear your voice now in the distance. You call for me! On the other end of the phone you whisper, “Come get me! I’m lost here in a field of writhing bodies, of endless lust and music that promises to drive me mad!” I say, “I’m coming!” I always do, no matter the time. You awake me at 3am and yet I dress and drive and pick you up and bring you back and undress you and we climb into bed and it’s the same… it’s the same.

Goodbye before the sun comes up. “Goodbye but I’ll be back when I call you again… when I’ve had too much and need to hide inside you again.”

Cheap wine and expensive tunes. The cobwebs are here in my head along with the haunting of your existence. You will never be more than my memory.

Oh to bear your offspring, and hold it to my breast.