Summer

The smell of the sea –

Dried algae and concrete.

The sound of the sea –

light music and chatter.

The feel of the sea –

Seduction and passion.

The look of the sea –

His innocent eyes. 

DRAGON’S QUEEN BRAID

“Do you know how to make a Dragon’s Queen braid?” he asks. 

“No, not really, I’ve never braided before,” she replies, wiping her wet cheeks. 

“It’s a good way to create something beautiful out of nothing. Common, I'll show you how. Take the three strands between your fingers: regret, anger and worry. Put regret over anger and cover it with worry. Now add some hope into your braid and incorporate confidence, as you move along, continue adding strands of joy and self-esteem. Add some thick chunks of excitement and passion and intertwine it with freedom and honesty.”

He brushes his fingertips over the relief of the dragon’s ridge. 

“And now to the most important part. Wrap this tail around and pin it with love.

“But what if the pin falls out and the Dragon’s Queen braid untwists?” 

“Then you will start over, now you know how.”

Her

She got inside my brain and stole my words, so shameless that she didn’t even hide it. She was so fake and everything she did, was simply to attract attention.

I felt like in a dream, like in a nightmare.

And then it dragged me down. 

Something powerful and disgusting robbed me of my high spirit. It penetrated inside and dissolved who I was, watering me down, taking the best out of me. Leaving a black hole that doesn’t deserve to be spoken about. Sucking my freedom. Taking control, manipulating.

And then she disappeared.

Her gentle monster left me,

the black hole got healed,

and I returned to being no one.

The old town

She stepped through massive Green Gates into a completely different world of beauty that she didn’t expect. The old town hit her with the details of the multicoloured brick buildings, yellow, red, pink. It became hard to breathe among those ancient intimidating structures, she could almost feel the weight of their beauty on her shoulders, almost feeling the need to apologise for her shaggy shorts and stretched t-shirt.

Quiet...

The prompt was: I’m learning so many different ways to be quiet...

...I’m sick of people always telling me to shut up; telling me that humans have two ears and only one mouth, not without a reason. But what can I do? I always have things to say or moan about.  I used to talk to my dog, to my neighbour across the garden, I talked to the TV sportscaster, I talked to myself, I talked in my sleep. But I wasn’t always like this.

It creeps into your life when people you know disappear. First, your parents, then your friends, your husband, until you look around to realise that there is no one left who knows you, who cares. The nurses and staff do care of course, as long as I keep it quiet. 

A joke

In the Creative writing class, we learned the structure of jokes. That was mine:

The knife in his hand set loose. He has never threatened a woman before. He could end up in jail for that.

“DO IT, MARK, DO IT,” Luke dared him.

“Okay”, Mark yelled, squeezing the knife tighter and lifting his chin up. “I will.”

Every step to that dark alleyway felt like his last one. He felt like he was going to his own execution. His boots became heavy, they didn’t want to leave the pavement. His steps shortened until he completely stopped, hiding behind the skip.

He didn't need to wait for long. A young pretty woman, in a shiny cocktail dress, knocked her heels past the skip.

Mark stepped in front of her, the sharp steel looked like an extension of his hand. “Strip down real quick,” he said, raising the knife.

She didn't say a word and lowered her tights.

"And the rest," Mark said, unbuttoning his shirt, then his pants.

As soon as her sparkly dress touched the concrete, Marked grabbed it. Quickly he pulled it on and ran away screaming, “Luke, we're good! I've got the dress!”

Eternity Retreat

This week 10-minute free writing prompt was: By the time he was admitted, his rapid heart had stopped and he was feeling better...

I continued with:

...Most of them felt better right after being admitted. The light was pure and the smell was fresh. At the end of their misery, they become forever residents of a luxury retreat. That's what they think first anyway.  

The residents anticipate the light to be dimed and night to fall but the only indication of the time flow is the sound. It is when the walls of the retreat become alive; when they talk. Sometimes their voices are screaming at the confused residents in the middle of the white night. Those voices always sound like people who they loved once, or who loved them. But with time, the residents become used to the voices, they learn to handle them. It's not the voices that made eternity impossible. It's the never-ending light.

If only they could have those quiet pitch-black nights of the mortal humans when they could look up and pretend to be one of the stars, pretend that they could shine as bright and be important. If only they could have enjoyed them more.