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Week 11: Shower Shame and Ladybugs

20 Feb

There they were.

Frozen in time and space, dust floating lazily between the air they shared in that steamy room, combining carelessly with the water, created mud.

What a murky situation.

She didn’t know what to cover up first, her bare thighs that were anything but childish anymore, her shapely breasts with bright pink nipples that demanded attention due to her milky complexion or perhaps her hips and surrounding patches of skin. In a wayward motion, she covered her bony knees, one hand on each knee. Like she was covering a gash, a dirty word written on a notebook from a teacher,  a horrifying defect.

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Week 11: Tom close shut

20 Feb

Tom closes the door behind him and is relieved. His entire being is fulfilled. Mr. “No thanks, bye” has no friends, or at least he likes to think he has none. He has nobody for his own. He loves himself, period. He doesn`t know and doesn`t care. And worst of all-he doesn`t like anyone. Keep pushing that feeling down, down, down, where it belongs. Cold as a razor blade, tight as a tourniquet, dry as a funeral drum he feels sometimes, but does not know why… Continue reading

Week 11: Forever, in a nutshell

20 Feb

The groundhog bobbed its grinning head frantically as the car rushed down the 110th.  It wasn’t of course grinning, but just frozen in time, gnawing at a chunk of wood. To Paul however,  the rows of white plastic teeth still looked like an evil grin. “It will bring you good fortune,” the car salesman said, as he handed him the keys to the black Charger.

The head bobbing was driving him crazy. He took the chewing gum out of his mouth and fitted it under the toy’s head, one eye on the road, barely enough for him to avoid running  the red light at Duke Ellington circle.

He leaned back on his seat with a sigh of relief and took a quick glance at a his bloodshot eyes and haggard face, without observing the hunched figure making its way to the front of his car. He jerked violently when the beggar knocked on the window. A row of surprisingly good teeth smiled at him from beneath a not so well-looking beard. With a soft thud, the beggar pressed a bunch of neatly packed maps against his window.

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Week 11: The last of my kind

20 Feb

It was foggy. That is all I have been able to remember of that night for months. I see cloudy vapor descending in curls, winding around telephone poles, traffic lights, trees and stray dogs. It advances slowly and silently until every square inch of the city lies under it. My city. I knew every twist in its roads, every street corner, every park, every shop, every dead end alley. When I walked my city, it was free of sin. Still, they were less than impressed. Apparently, my sense of territory was the only thing that marred an otherwise perfect specimen of my kind. They were wrong. I am the only specimen of my kind. Of course, I can’t remember how they took the news in the end but I can only hope it was proportional to the injustice of having to walk without a badge for fourteen years. I suppose a tinge of cruelty has also entered my manner but from all I can recollect, it might have always been there, along with the patience and eye for detail. The tiniest detail…

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Week 11: Writing prompt

20 Feb

And we’re back!

The ice has started to thaw and some of us are starting classes again.

Spring must be around the corner (we sure hope so!) but since winter seemed quite endless only a week ago,

today we’ll be musing on the subject of “forever in a nutshell.”