Leaving the World

When I was little, it seemed I was always leaving. Everything was new. I never returned to the same place twice. Now that I've been everywhere, it's blase. Oh, Italy again? Please, that was back in '74, it'll take something a little more refreshing to get an eyebrow raise out of me. These past few years have seen nothing but returning. To bolster some interest, a friend casually joked that death will be a first for me. But not, it is only a return to non-life. *sigh* The only leaving this world for me would be to perhaps visit Mars someday. I've been to the moon twice already.

50 Word Story

We switched roles. I'm not my mother; I'm her age. It's easier to love from this position. When she ran off with that vagabond, it broke my heart. Maybe someday she'll return and switch us back. At least now I can't have any more kids.

Experimenting with Different Genres

Once a upon a recent and otherwise forgettable time, two people met and fell in love. One more passionately than the other. After some months together, the woman, enthralled with her beau, suspected that he might be unfaithful. He "hung out with the guys" and "liked his alone time." Prime hours for developing and sustaining a mistress. In an attempt to try to revitalize their relationship, she went out and bought a beautiful golden locket. It fell suggestively across her chest and glittered with the beckoning call of "notice me, it's okay to stare." This was much appreciated by the boyfriend she'd sought to reclaim. In the first night after the locket, he wished he smoked for how much his performance deserved a classy cigarette break afterward. Maybe it was the little piece of jewelry in her mind, but he was far more glad that she'd stepped it up a notch after a lull. The next morning, she rolled over and immediately returned the necklace to its cozy resting spot. Intrigued by the object, he inquired as to what was inside. "Nothing yet," she responded, "but it'll be something nice, so like I can always have you near me." It warmed him to hear, and the rest of his day was spent smiling. When he got home, his lady had dinner all prepared and ready to go. Already smiling, he couldn't help but break into a bigger grin. Reaching over to gratefully, playfully hug his woman, a searing pain roared through his stomach. Unable to breathe, he looked down to the knife sliding out of him. It struck him with disbelief, then struck him again on the hand before he had time to gather a second thought. It was his lover, his cuppy cake, gumdrop bringing this horror against him. Not even a questioning gurgle could escape his lips, though evident in his eyes. Tearfully holding the knife, she sobbed, "I was going to put you in my locket so we could be together. Forever."

No Shit, Sherlock

Aunt Milly was known throughout the area for having one prized possession of incredible value. People in the area had talk about it for years, longer than anyone could remember. Whenever she came into town, she had an aura of pride, of ownership. It was obvious to anyone who knew what to look for. Some of those who came to knew what to look for were thieves from a neighboring town. Bad guys, indeed. They'd heard of this tremendous object and wanted to possess it for themselves. After all, how hard can it be to rob an old lady? One fateful evening, the men snuck around her house after dark, creeping through bushes and under the porch, sneakily observing every entry-way and exit. Finally, they decided on entering through a second story window, open to let in the cool summer night. Shimmying up a drain pipe, they tip-toed through the grandmotherly house. Finally, they came across a closet that so obviously held the prized object they sought. Peering through, their intuition proved correct, a lock box held a very obviously sturdy lock. For hours, the thieves pried and calculated. In frustration, one uttered profane and blasphemous mutterings. His whisper was met with the click of a shotgun Aunt Milly had come up behind the dastardly men in their schemes. Aiming her double barrel in their direction, she ordered their removal, with which they complied.

Later, after sharing the harrowing story with me, I hesitantly asked Aunt Milly what was in her safe box that was so valuable. Laughing and pulling me close, she speaking softly into my ear, "Honey, all this hemmin' and hawin' in town is a little overblown. You see, I am the inventor of the world's only uncrackable lock."

Finally Returning to Life

I drove over to my mom's to sing at the top of my lungs.
I watched an awful, awful horror movie with my mom.
I said goodbye to my dog.
She crawled into my arms.
I played every song I know on guitar,
and I lit some candles.

These things don't happen at school,
but there's so much more that does.