writing

Romance – The Learning Curve (Fiction)

In romance, there is a learning curve we all must traverse.

First kiss may seem like the ultimate in excitement, until it happens and we find ourselves liplocked with a drooling boy, with something hard shoved down his pants.

That first alien experience when we girls discover what that hard thing feels like directly. It drools also, much to our amazement.

The first time we let him fumble around – who knew bra straps were such a mystery?

And then, when we finally let him go all the way. For me that was to be with the altar behind us. Our wedding day was exhausting, with an evening spent socializing with everyone but him. I was nervous, naturally. Mostly because, despite the fact that all my romantic experiences up ’til then had not been what I expected, I had dreamed this moment would be perfection. Just like all the romance novels I’d read, where the heroine is worshiped by her man. Things always go so smoothly, don’t they?

I suppose my first mistake was thinking that a limo was a good idea, so he would be free to drink and not have to drive back to our hotel. Suffice to say my learning curve is complete: bra straps are even more a mystery, floors are hard, and drooling and snoring also go together.

This virgin bride will try not to step on him when I get up in the morning.

Sleeping Beauty, Fifty Years Later

Gathering, church basement.

Sleeping Beauty: (stands) Hi. My name is Aurora and I’m an insomniac.

All: Hi Aurora.

Sleeping Beauty: It’s been three years since my last full night’s sleep. (shuffles feet and drops gaze) I’m addicted to romance novels. I can’t count how many times the sun has risen on a happily ever after.

***
Fifty is the one-word prompt at The Daily Post today.

jeopardy

a door slams
closed to the world
and the news reads
the next day
there was never hope,
you came for nothing;
nothing is what you get.

we jeopardize our lives
for the instant
and dream of a future
where the sky is blue
and the shitstorm we’re in
will somehow cleanse our air.

now is the time
to be the knob
with the open mind
who sees now’s brackish blend
for what it is.

let hope prevail
and doves of white fly
through skies not of pink
for our children to behold.

Moon – 50 words

The crescent moon draws me in. Without you, I have reverted back to what I was at birth: a creature of the night. I live only in my dreams of you. By day, I waste away, a shadow of the man that existed when you, my love, made me shine.

***
From a work-in-progress.

Captive

Locked in a basement for months, with a dirty one-by-three-foot window her only evidence that the outside world still existed, she sometimes wished she was dead. Not because she had lost hope, but rather if she was a ghost, she could walk through the closed door to freedom.

She wanted nothing more than to return to a life with a man who didn’t know she was alive. To die in such a hell hole alone was unthinkable. Somehow, through her dreams and his, she would let him know she was alive.

***
From a work-in-progress.

In Motion – 100 words

Stay in motion, stay in motion. Two breaths in (stay in), two breaths out (motion) to the rhythm of her feet as she jogged. The scrape of her sneakers on the gravel by the side of the deserted road was the only sound that cut through the dawn, apart from her breathy chant.

Was her morning jog a precursor to running away? Life at home was worthy of escape. All the insults, the yelling, the hitting. She knew it was only a matter of time.

Stay in motion, stay in motion. One day, she thought, she would not go back.

Olympic Texting – 100 word drabble

“Okay, Mary, the players are neck in neck and coming to the finish line. Who will win the race for fastest text message?”

“Tommy’s in the lead now, Frank, with, ‘OMG SRSLY?'”

“And now it’s Gina with ‘WYSIWYG!'”

“They’re dead even! Time is running out!”

“What’s that? Did Tommy just… No! He was quick on his, ‘WTF’ but he forgot his punctuation! The judges aren’t going to like this.”

“You’re right, Frank. Especially the German judge.”

“It’s down to the wire. Gina’s has to come up with… She did it!”

“‘PMSL!’ For the win!”

“Gina is our new gold medalist!”

Maybe Dying

“I’m sorry, Marsha,” the doctor said as he sat back in his chair, behind his massive, expensive-looking desk. “There may be nothing I can do.”

“But… You’ve GOT to do something! I’m dying here!” Marsha gripped the arms of her own seat and lifted herself off it a few inches in agitation.

“Well let me see.” The doctor sat up, stared down his nose through his bifocals and flipped through a folder that lay on his desk. “There is something. But it’s going to take some money.”

“I’ll do anything! I’ll even go down to the bank for you myself!”

“Fine,” said the doctor. “Get me three cases of your Girl Guide cookies. I’ll give you a cheque.” He closed the folder. “Damned mothers and their little girls,” he muttered under his breath.

Maybe

Luxury – a poem

Luxury is defined
entirely dependent
upon the beholder;
a perspective of riches.
For some luxury means
pounds of gold
and mounds of caviar
upon crackers divine.
Some see a boat
a home
or a trip
to faraway lands.
For me luxury involves
only fresh sheets
upon which to rest
my weary bones.

#SoCS – The Dog Days

I want to accept,
except accepting means
having to walk away
from having to walk
a mile in somebody else’s shoes
and let’s be honest here:
shoes don’t fit me.
I’m a dog, you see
although my owner thinks
I’m soft
I really don’t need
those rain boots she
keeps shoving on my feet
and the rain hat and cape?
Give me a break!
How does any
self-respecting dog
go out dressed like a human
and not expect
the other dogs not
to laugh?
Is that the front door?
My leash?
My… oh no, don’t tell me it’s raining…
I want to accept,
except accepting means
having to walk away
from a walk…
The shame!!

socs-badge-2015

This unexpected poem is part of Stream of Consciousness Saturday. Click here and join in! https://lindaghill.com/2016/08/05/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-aug-616/