writing

Vanished

Mom’s going to kill me. She left me alone for one measly weekend. “It’ll be okay!” I said. “I’ll take care of everything. Don’t worry, go have fun!” She’s going to be home in ten minutes and the dog has disappeared. Vanished. One minute he was on his chain in the back yard and the next, he’s just gone. His collar is there, still done up but no dog.

Can she blame me for this? Not if she believes me. But I know what she’s going to say. I staged it to look like some mysterious thing happened to her baby. Her favourite pet of all time. God, she loves that dog more than she loves me.

What the hell am I going to do?

Maybe I’ll disappear, too.

#SoCS – Facelift

It started with a pimple on my nose. A small one it was to begin with – a little red dot right on the tip. I noticed it while I was admiring my new facelift in the mirror, on the night before I was to take a flight down south. I was looking forward to my vacation in the sun. Little did I know.

***
Sitting in the sun all day, reading a book on the beach made my pimple grow. When I came in to get changed for dinner, I looked in the mirror and saw that it was three times the size it had been before I left home.
I shrugged it off.

***
A week later and I’m about to board the plane to go back home. I didn’t think they’d let me on–there was talk that I’d need two seats. One for me, and one for my pimple. I didn’t have the money to buy another seat for my now giant proboscis, but if I didn’t make it back to work the next day, shit would surely hit the fan.

***
It’s been a month since I first saw the pimple on my nose. I drag my face around my apartment all day, having lost my job. Surgery is tomorrow. They’re going to cut off my nose. Despite my facelift.

socsbadge2016-17

This post is part of the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt. To play along or to read other posts, click on the following link: https://lindaghill.com/2016/12/02/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-dec-316/

Stinky

“You in the back row, um… let me see… Sarah, please use the word ‘pungent’ in a sentence.”

“Walter, in my math class, is very pungent.”

“Sarah! That’s not very nice. Do you know what the word ‘pungent’ means?”

“Yes, it means smelly.”

“That’s right. Step out into the hall, please. And don’t come back in until I tell you to.”

“But, Miss Foster…”

“I said go out of the class, young lady.”

…

“Now. What is the next word? Ah, yes. This is a good one. Nick? I remember your name. Would you please use the word ‘warren’ in a sentence.”

“Walter would live in a warren if he didn’t live in a cage in our math class.”

“Ahem. Very good, Nick. Would you please do me a favour and ask Sarah to come back in?”

Elicit

Chili might elicit a burp or a fart
And lightning a blink or a wink

The moonlight might just draw out a gasp
supermoon

 

 

 

And cause your canoe to sink (but I doubt it).

Scorched

“Look! You’ve scorched the milk, Norman.”

“I’m sorry, Harriet my love. I don’t know what’s come over me today.”

“Do you think it’s got something to do with …you know?”

“It might, my love.”

“Oh, Norman. We did have a laugh though.”

“Hehe. Yes, yes we did.”

“Well then. What are we going to do with all this scorched milk?”

“Harriet, my love, why don’t you just pour it in the cat’s bowl? Give him a treat.”

“I s’pose I could, at that. We’ve had ours. Do you have any more of those pills left?”

“Harriet! You’re not thinking about that now, are you?”

“Why not? Let’s go scorch the sheets.”

“All right, then.”

Tart – 50-word fiction

“You’re such a tart,” she says in jest.
But little does she know I’ve been screwing her husband for three weeks now. The question is, do I tell her right away, or do I wait until the bitch beats me at tennis again? Because holy shit, do I hate losing.

Fishy

Fuuuuck! I just dropped a piece of fish off my fork on the way to my mouth. Do I pick it up? Do I let it sit in the carpet? Who the hell puts shag carpet in their dining room anyway? The host of this dinner party, apparently. I already feel like I don’t belong among these stuck-up prissy billionaires, with their posh manners and their ‘oh-so-very’ way of talking.

Why don’t these people have a dog?!? If I pick it up I’ll look like an idiot who can’t feed himself, and if I don’t, they’re going to remember who sat here and made their stupid shag carpet smell like wharf in August. And why the hell are they serving fish at a party? Don’t they know how many regular people can’t stand fish?

I know. I’ll drop my knife and when I pick it up, I’ll get the fish at the same time.

What the fuck? Where’d that servant come from? Aaaand he’s bringing me a clean knife. Great. So much for that idea.

I don’t really like the looks of the woman sitting opposite me. Maybe I’ll kick it under her chair. Then they’ll think she dropped it and I’ll be off the hook. OFF THE HOOK! THAT’S FUNNY! Okay, I’ve got to stop giggling. People are looking at me.

“Yes, the weather is lovely this time of year. What was I laughing at? Oh, um, nothing.”

Smooth. Okay, now if I can just kick it over there… Damn it! The soles of these fancy dress shoes are too slippery. I’ll have to take my shoe off.

UGH! I can smell my own feet. Gotta slip my shoe back on. Now the old lady across the table is giving me the eye. Wait, did I nudge her with my foot? Oh God, I might have! She’s going to think I want to play footsies!

AHHH! She’s sticking her toe up my pant leg! Gotta stay calm, gotta stay calm. I’ll just smile at her and… Dear God she winked at me!!

“Excuse me, I just have to, um, use the facilities. Could you direct me… Down the hall to the left? Thank you.”

Okay, time to make my escape. Should I try and pick up the piece of fish? Maybe I can just bend down and nobody will notice… Holy shit… OUCH! The lady across from me just kicked me in the mouth!

“I wasn’t… I mean, I was just trying to… Oh fuck it.”

Well I won’t be invited back here again. I hope the old lady enjoys her fluffy shag-covered fish for dinner.

Hearts (excerpt – NaNo WIP)

The marriage was doomed to remain childless. Paul had gone into it hoping he could change Vicki’s mind, though she’d never wanted kids. He built them a home in the suburbs, one with a big back yard and three bedrooms, but one day when Paul was at work, Vicki called a landscaping company to come and build a giant deck with a pool. The next day she painted over the pastel sheep in what would have been the nursery and turned the room into her office.
Perhaps never having to worry about money caused boredom in their marriage, maybe Vicki was never meant to settle down. When Paul finally acquiesced to allowing a third person into their bed, it was the beginning of the end.

#SoCS – Bridge, a Hallowe’en Story

Taking the Bridge to the inner city is like driving out of fresh air, into the pits of Hell. The Bridge itself is lined on both sides with grills, jails if you will. At the outer edge, near the freshest of air, are the criminals who live, still. But as it gets warmer toward the middle of the Bridge, one can see the prisoners are fighting for air. Zombies, treading upon one another with clubs made of loose bits of the Bridge torn off are closest to the inner city.

Why must we travel there, to the city? For work. The luckiest of us still grow our vegetables at the far end of the Bridge. For meat, we must go to the city. That’s where the brains are.

socsbadge2016-17

This post was written entirely in Stream of Consciousness, and left unedited. If you, too, would like to participate in Stream of Consciousness Saturday, click the following link to add your post! https://lindaghill.com/2016/10/28/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-oct-2916/

recurring you

i love
how you rearrange
my thoughts
you reappear
and re-propose
all those things you did
so long ago
you’re addictive
you know
even though
I’m not
the woman I was
you
seem not to change
that’s why
you rearrange
how
your arch’d brow
makes me vow
there’s never been
another quite the same
and there will never be
for me
for the truth
is that you
like a tattoo
skin deep
are a part of me
I’ll never see
again the same
in the november rain
those showers
how that beauty
will be ever ours
secretly