Focusing on slowing her breath, she struggled to keep running. They were getting closer.
Everything was a blur, from the initial attack to her jumping out the window.
And to think she had planned on getting hammered off her ass to forget her problems.
Really though, it was more fun trying to hunt those bastards down. She could almost smell their…
She wanted to bare her essence, her soul
Embracing her truth before setting it free into the world
Cauterizing the cuts those words caused by her clutching them so desperately tight
Releasing them would allow so much healing to enter
Except she just couldn’t do it. She screamed as she hugged them tighter
The idea of giving up her truth and being naked, of needing to find a new truth
She would be an open window, an empty container, a person without value, a woman without …
Fiddling with her coffee mug, she looked out the window with dead eyes
Ugly vibes hung in the air on words that shouldn’t have been said
Everyone, even him, had to understand life’s fundamental truth
Leave her alone until she tanked up on at least one mug full
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We look into each other’s lives and wonder what lies behind those curtains
If others have things so much better than us
Not realizing that as we stare in that they can stare back
Determined to see past our drapes
Observing all the cobwebs and clutter
While wondering why we have it so much better than they do
Dominic looked at his fouled sneakers
It had started so simply that morning
Snuggling in his warm covers as the sunlight crept into the window
Getting up he put on his running gear and headed out to the trail
Under the red and orange leaves he began to jog
Soon his breath was ragged as he pushed himself harder and farther
That was when he felt that dreaded hard intestinal clenching
It made him stop and look around, but there were people everywhere
Now he tried to walk back, but about half way there he lost the battle
Giving the term “the runs” an added meaning
She scowled at her reflection
It was all angles, scars, and knots of muscle
Leaving her bereft of the soft curves she knew he desired
Vapor poured into the window behind her
Envisioning what was about to happen, she punched her image, shattering it
Reaching for a shard, she let it fly, impaling the coalescing vampire. “How about that curve?” she muttered.
Image: 4.bp.blogspot.com/_nQPNm2CFPFU/Sq2pPxjd4BI/AAAAAAAAAAs/hP2oroqmQns/s280/Glass%25201.jp
Those people that thought Elvis was still alive made Travis laugh. It had been almost 41 years since that fateful day and yet Travis could remember every intimate, crazy detail like it had been yesterday. He was supposed to play Utica, New York on that tour. Why on earth had they booked him in Utica? Well Travis was happy it never happened.
Travis chuckled at that thought as he looked out the nursing home window. He spent a lot of time thinking about the past and what might have been. That was how Travis spent most of his time. Getting older may suck, but the alternative was worse. Besides, being 88 wasn’t that bad, really. He still could enjoy his music and his peanut butter and banana sandwiches. He then remembered the sequined jump suits. Man he hated those. Who thought they were a good idea? They made him itch.
Image: s3.amazonaws.com/zweb-s3.uploads/visiontv/2017/07/19122555/Elvis_Hawaii_600_1.jpg
Ascending the ladder to the second floor
Steve hoped no one was watching
Silently he opened the window
Emily should be asleep in the bed just across the room
Making love to her tonight would be his reward
Emergency crews were soon on the scene while Emily looked on from across the street
Stories and photos from Scotland
A paper-cut survivor
Abdi Mohammed
The Art of Prose and Poetry
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Sarah Torribio and her right brain. Music. Musings. Writing. Style.
We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive
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Random Stuff I Think You'll Like
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Never Short On Words 