Wonderland

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cozy-places-to-read

Sunday.

Lazy day.

The only day I get to have a lazy day. I work Monday through Saturday, and even after leaving the office I stay up until about one in the morning working on my laptop. My family says I’m a workaholic. Coworkers say I need to take a vacation. I don’t need any of that. I need to get him out of my mind. It had been 11 months, twelve days, and… nine hours on the dot since…

Sunday.

My favorite day.

I warm up some homemade hot cocoa on the stove, hazelnuts for added flavor. And just to snack on.

Mmm, cinnamon. Mother gave me these t-lights for christmas. To help me relax I suppose. They work. By the time I sit in my armchair it smells like fall in my livingroom.

Fall… Red leaves falling to the ground. Crunch, crunch, crunching beneath my feet. His almond eyes glowing in the sun… A better time.

Interior design is my job. My hobby. My passion. I go in and make places look… unique. I give a boring four white wall cell, character. I pick up my latest book. Living. That’s what I do. I take inanimate objects, rooms, and floors and give them life. That is my life…

Living.

What does it mean to be living? To breathe? To Laugh? To work? To die?

I am curled up in my gray wool blanket, throw pillow fluffed to my liking, and I inhale the nutty chocolate fumes of my hot cocoa.

There’s a knock at the door.

Six-thirty PM on a Sunday.

No one knocks on my door. I live out a good mile from my neighbors. I need the distance. To be alone. To be safe. Are we ever safe?

There’s another knock.

With reluctance, I set down my porcelain mug onto my sweetgrass tray. My thumb rubs over the chip on the handle. It’s funny how you forget things, but remember the events you wish you could bury. No matter how hard you try you can’t hide away from your own mind… What a terrible thought.

Another knock.

They certainly are persistent. A chill dances up my spine as I discard my blanket. My feet thump thump against the hardwood floor. The gold handle is warm in my hand. And I wonder, why am I so hesitant?

With a swing of the door, like a current raising, he is revealed. His smile is wide, showing off his pearly whites like a cheshire cat. And I know now, all this time, was a waste. There is no escape from Wonderland.

A Picture It & Write Inspiration.

The Last Time

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He found himself at her door. Like so many times before. But he couldn’t remember how he got there. It seemed all roads lead to her.

It was a warm but cool night. He could taste its humidity on his tongue.

Had he walked? Did he drive? He couldn’t remember. Nor could he tear his eyes off of the front door to look for clues. It stood before him tall and looming. The white paint glowed in the darkness like a lantern. He couldn’t even bring himself to knock.

Would she answer if he did? She was probably in her room, all alone, asleep. She probably wouldn’t even hear him.

He whispered her name.

She could feel his call lingering like a sigh through her bones.

She could hear his heart thumping like a jack-rabbit just beyond her front door. If she laid still enough, maybe he would leave. Leave her home. Leave her memory.

“Cecilia.”

She found herself unlocking the front door like she had been in some sort of hypnotic trance.

Their eyes met.

Her heart stopped.

His heart slowed down.

It felt better just to see her face again. Calmed him. And he told her this. “I’m sorry,” he added.

He was wearing his best apology, but not even that was enough. Not after all the times she had let him in, just for him to leave. Was it worth risking another heartbreak?

He knew every promise he had made in the past, he had also broken. Anything he could have said, she would have perceived as a lie.

“Can I come in?”

She didn’t answer but positioned herself in the middle of the doorway, a hand ready to smack that front door right in his face.

“Please.”

She adverted her eyes from his. His crystal eyes always made her weak. She needed strength.

“The last time I let you in, you shattered my grandmother’s porcelain vase.” Her words weren’t grudgeful or sad. They were light and heavy all at once. Just like the night’s summer air.

“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

Again, he pleaded, “Will you let me in?”

She closed her eyes. The way her long lashes fluttered over her rosemary cheeks made the flame in his chest dance. “How long has it been this time?

“Four months.”

She scoffed. “How do I know I can trust you?”

He spoke so low even he couldn’t hear himself whimper, “That’s not fair.”

“Not fair?” She laughed, but her face twisted into a knot. She laughed, but tears streamed from both of her eyes. She laughed. She sobbed. And right before him, she was breaking. There was no where for her to hide or for him. No other reasons why, just the two of them.

He broke. He was at fault, he knew. And he knew he never wanted to be the reason she didn’t smile. Be the reason she cried. “I will never hurt you again,” he swore. “I’m done with that stuff for good.”

She collapsed to her knees. Her auburn hair fell before her face like branches of a willow, shielding herself from him. This is why he was surprised when he knelt down next to her and put his arm around her, that she folded into his chest. She gripped onto his shirt with her fists and cried so hard her entire body shook against his and her throat started to become raw. With a gasp for air she said, “This is the last time I’m asking you, put my name at the top of you list.”

“Of course.”

She calmed down slightly afterwards. Tears fell silently off the point of her chin and her heart still struggled to get back to its smooth rhythmic beat. Between hiccups she repeated, “This is the last time.”

He helped her to her feet.

“This is the last time.”

He lifted her so that her head rested in the nook between his head and his shoulder.

“This is the last time.”

He carried her in.

Tick-Tock

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He could hear the ticking echo through his ears. When the minute hand moved he felt the stinging in his heart which grew stronger and stronger. He knew he was running out of time.

His breath felt like thunder, shaking in his bones. Each step he ran was a race against the hour hand.

Tick.

The pain in his chest brought red dots to his eyes. Stumbling on the pavement he kept on because he knew he had no time.

Collapsing inside their cage, his lungs began to cave. Every breath was forced and shallow. The doubt began to fill in the hollow thoughts. Would he make it?

Tock.

He lost his breath. The pain spread from his chest like a virus. The world before him began to blur. Like a blind man he kept forwards. His feet like cement, the effort to keep moving torturous. His whole body ached, but he could not stop now.

Tick.

A cry escaped his lips. Everything was cloaked in darkness. He was so close. Nearly there. But time keeps ticking and his end was near.

Just move forward. Don’t give in.

Tock.

His heart began to beat in time with the second hand. Each heartbeat roared in his head. His rib cage tightened, restricting his lungs, and crushing his heart. No longer could he continue on as his legs buckled underneath his weight.

Her arms reached for him, but she was too late. By the time she revealed the watch attached to his chest, the hour and minute hand ticked together as he let out his last breath.

With a sob she took the device in her hand and removed the brass watch from his flesh. The golden numbers spread around the face was covered with a brass rib-cage.

Just a little something I cooked up after this week’s picture it & write photo. Check it out!

Sigh Of Death

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I looked deep into his crystal eyes and knew it was the end.

With his warm, strong hands wrapped  around my neck I could hear my heartbeat  echoing within my eardrums. It slowed itself to a dull hum as the black crept into the corners of my vision. Not once did either of us break eye-contact. Not even to blink.

The deep abyss of his pupils seemed to widen as if  to pull me in.

I was already in.

My hands loosely held onto his thick wrists, not even bothering to struggle. What use was there? I knew from the start he would be the one. That this  would be  my fate.

His hands grew tighter and  tighter like an anaconda wrapping itself around  my body. I went numb under the pressure. The black was everywhere by then; masking all from my vision. All but those eyes. Just as uneasy to read as they had always been, they were hard as stone.

My heart was no longer a wild drum of  fear  and panic but a single strum of  surrender. And as the last note  played,  his  open lips covered mine as he inhaled my sigh of  death, breathing  in my soul.

Still Alive

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You had to be kidding me! The way she went on and on about him even though she knew. She knew that I still loved him.

The envy burned a hole in my gut at the realization he liked her better than me. To him I was only a toy. Someone he could manipulate and play with only to discard once he had his fix. Even when I had seen him earlier he could only talk about her. How much he liked her. Asking if she had said anything about him. About them. Like they were a couple already! I so badly wanted to vomit at his feet. Instead, I looked up into his icy blue eyes, oh how they had once made my heart melt, and said, “I am so happy for you. No really. I am so glad you found someone just like you.” Only I could taste the tangy, sour venom on my tongue, for he only sighed with relief.

I looked back at her, her childish face bubbling with excitement. I knew he wouldn’t break her heart. Not the way he had mine when he tore it to pieces and fed it to the flames like wood pulp. Well, maybe not on his own. I took a hold of her arm and she beamed down at me unknowingly. I told her all about the talk him and I had, exaggerating only where necessary, and maybe adding in a few white lies. After telling her all about how he had come on to me, kissing me, even though he said he wanted to be with her, she went rigid. I watched as her shoulders sagged and her entire face went dark. Her mouth askew with the thought while her wide eyes stared out into open space. Eventually she let herself crumble. Each tear snaking down her cheek was a droplet of triumph. Suppressing the urge to smile, I wrapped her into the safe haven of my arms. I cooed into her ear while smoothing down strands of her red hair. “He is so dead to me,” she gurgled through sobs.

“It’s OK. We’re alive.”

I’m alive.

Another concoction of listen & write (Portal~Still Alive) apparently from a video game as my fiance informed me ;p I had fun writing a little more devious piece considering I would never be able to be that mean to someone. The guilt would probably eat me alive. But it did come from a little bit of personal experience, just with a twist ;]

Savior

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Could some one please save me? The thought was nothing but a gurgle of hope spread like wings in my chest. Any body… The sea took my body and its cool body covered me in its caress. My hand was the only part left touched by air. I feebly lifted it reaching for the sky with my fingers.

But as the lack of oxygen became a bloody scream echoing inside my head, every ounce of strength seemed to leave. The minuscule waves lapsed over my palm, silky and smooth like spit from its tongue. The sun filtering in overhead became dim as I started to sink into the grim.

Suddenly some one else’s skin was on mine; warm, comforting, and divine. I was swifted away, no longer the drowning man, and brought to the surface once again. My lungs burned with saltwater draining out my mouth from inside my chest.

On her purple eyes mine rest. A pink star exploded around her pupil, its dust drifting around her iris. I blinked, needing to make sure she was real, but when I looked again she had disappeared.

At the vast ocean I gazed. I had almost lost my life that day. Beyond the horizon a teal tail soared. I waved goodbye to my savior.

 

 

See the picture that inspired this short story on _picture it & write