Concealer (a short story)

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She very carefully cleansed her face with exfoliator.  She took her time since her face was still tender from yesterday.  She then opened her moisturizer.  The smell of tropical fruits perfumed the air and helped put her in a more relaxed mood.  The moisturizer was almost cool to the touch.  She enjoyed the way it kept her skin hydrated and smooth.  The added SPF to protect didn’t hurt either. 

Gently, she layered on foundation, evening out her complexion.  She looked at her reflection.  She was not happy with what she saw.  That woman would just not do.  She reached for her almost empty concealer and shook her head.  How could she have forgotten that yesterday?  That meant another trip to the mall.  He wasn’t going to be happy about that, but he did want her to look pretty for him, so maybe he wouldn’t be that angry about it.

With practiced grace she applied a dab under each of her eyes, then on various other spots on face.  She took out her makeup brush and blotted it into the foundation.  Magically the dark spots softened and blended mostly into the background.  She put another round of the concealer over those remaining spots that had proved resistant.  This time the blotting finished its magic.  She let a small smile escape.   Now that was the woman he loved to have.

“Hey, Stella.  Get in here!”

Startled, she jumped and lost her grip on her brush.  She watched it tumble and fall to the floor.  She turned her head to the other room.

“Coming,” she called out.

He didn’t reply.  She took that as permission to finish her task.  But first she groped for her brush.  It took a few times before she managed to retrieve it and put it away.  Damn shaking hands.  That definitely would not do.  She calmed herself by completing the ritual with a quick pat of powder to protect her hard work. 

“Stella!”

She looked at the mirror one more time. Yeah, she did good.  He should be happy with her.  Just one more bit of concealer was needed.  She slapped on her happy face and poof; she was perfect for him.

“Coming my love.”    

Costume (an acrostic poem)

Clothing makes the man they say

Or in his case, they allowed him to blend in

So that the prey around him didn’t recognize predator in their midst

Though they would be nervous as if they could see through his disguise

Undercover he enjoyed taking his time

Meticulously picking his next victim

Enjoying the chaos he left in his wake

 

Image: img.wonderhowto.com/img/26/46/63686855758540/0/secure-your-identity-become-anonymous-online-2019.1280×600.jpg

Silence (a 100 word story)

The Silence snuck up on Deidre, and before she knew it, she was in its clutches.  She tried to speak up, but no one could hear her.  She tried to get anyone’s attention about her problem, but no one noticed.  No one seemed to care why the Silence picked her.

Years later she finally broke through, finding her voice once again.  By then no one wanted to believe what happened to her that had caused Silence to so viciously destroy her ability to communicate what had happened.

The Silence had won again and moved on to find its next victim.

 

Image: kennysantos.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/04/silence-is-golden.jpg

Wanting to Scream

Margret meandered down the hallway, not looking at anyone in particular, but trying to memorize how each face perceived her.  Her sudden head swings tried to take it all in, documenting for her future self how others looked into her eyes.  Couldn’t they see it?  It was right in front of them, but the pity she saw in those that would look into her eyes was so shallow that they would never find the depths where she hid her soul.  Margret wished she could just scream, but she knew no words would come out.  Everyone knew that about her.  Just when it was about to get too painful to bear, Christopher came around the corner.  He placed his muscular arm around her and began to guide her back to her room.  She began to cry silently as always.  Chris leaned in close.  “It’ll be okay,” he said to everyone watching the spectacle.  Soon they were back to her room, and Chris picked Margret up and placed her on her bed.  “It’ll be all better in a bit,” he said as he closed her door, staying in her room.  Margret tried to scream, but her voice betrayed her, just like Chris.