100 Words

[average gina]

“I hate you.”

“Yes, I know.”

Defining what hurts more—looking into her eyes or avoiding them. He looks at them, turbulent as a midnight ocean. Definitely anger.

“I feel … helpless.”

“I know.”

“I mean this would not have—”

“Hurt so much. I know.”

“You could have avoided this. How did you talk me into doing this?”

“We need help.” He closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to let her down, but he can’t bear this much longer.

“Your turn.”

He tries to lift his hand. They tumble, groan, and then laugh.

“Wanna play another game of Twister?”

 

[manipulatrix]

jonny almost

.....

 

[christabelll]

jonny almost

He is so almost. Almost a man. So very almost. Almost what I want, almost all of the bad and the good and the passion and the music wrapped up in manly, fallen-jesus angst. I want to bite his soft baby lips buried in his beard, make him bleed. So fucking almost, and yet not quite. Almost wooing me as jazz flows around us and I mistake Coltrane’s music for his words. A mistake like that could cost me a lifetime of wondering why. Instead the cost was one night when I told him to shut up and fuck me.

Nice - Had a few nights like that myself LOL

 

[UnderYourSpell]

I ran away with you even though everyone said you were to old for me and I shouldn't be doing that stuff at my age either. But I wanted you and I wasn't prepared to live on 'what ifs' for the rest of my life. I take the blame entirely, I certainly played dirty, showed you some loving you had never had before. We have had some good years, and you still can't wait to take me to bed, but you grow older now and if I think about it too much I am on the edge of panic ...

 

[manipulatrix]

Inner Ugly

.....

 

[Tathagata]

Your words are alien.
They carve crop circles in the tissue of my brain and I awake sure the remnants are a joke.
Still, they are evidence of something amiss.
Night lurking pranksters, or deviant intentions, insidious
cyanide stealth.
" We'll put the leeches on you boy" and they are massed inside me, disguised as a conversation, slowly draining me of understanding.
You speak in cancer.
You speak in X-rays.
You are Death with a megaphone.
I will seal my ears with pig iron and concrete
I will be deaf to pleasure knowing you can no longer poison me.
Your pronouncements fall on dead ears.
A justice for me
A hell for you

 

[UnderYourSpell]

One or two folks like that in chatrooms ...

 

[RhymeFairy]

He was the first true man

I ever met. no pretense, no lies, no whenevers. Just a wholesome how are ya and what can I do to help? I spent nights dreaming of our meeting. Slept little and prayed so much. He knew, still knows he is and always shall be my first and possibly my only true love.

Old flames built from passion I had a few, but he touched me really touched the me, deep inside. The girl no one has ever really felt, only rubbed raw
and ran over in nights of disbelief. I spend most days, pretending, knowing he is still there just beyond the shadows, a place where my heart reaches out and holds tight. A place

where I dream of going back to. Only, time changes us all. Deems what is appropriate for that person in that space, place and time. I shall stand, and wait for my one day. If not, I know he is there waiting, hoping, knowing he shall be the last. To hold my heart and fill my soul with a love like no other. That unconditional love we all dream of.

 

[RhymeFairy]

“Why do you always do that?”
“I dunno.”
“Do you really not know or are you uncomfortable reaching your hand into your mind-sleeve and turning it inside out?”
“What?”
“Are you unsure of your heroic seams?”
“Have you been drinking?”
“Yeah. Martinis expand my vocabulary. You know it doesn’t matter right?”
“What doesn’t matter?”
“Which side shows. Humanity is translucent and skin and bones never hide the stains.”
“How long have you known?”
“That playing on either side of a dichotomy without looking in the middle is like crossing a freeway blind or that you’re sleeping with her?”
“Fuck.”
“Exactly.”

This gave me a giggle but then I saw a glimpse of ... something. This one takes a few reads then kicks ya in tha booty. Nice write Sara ....

 

[RhymeFairy]

*stretching my wings *



glitterdust flies, sparks off
doing a backside slide.
tan freckles meet, golden, hazel
green eyes. no spark
could compare, ignite
or inflame my insides with one silent
smirk.

standing outside, frostbitten
to tha bone. his look, mellow
happy, then finally a smile.
He giggles, like a girl
and that alone,
stole my heart.

times have changed.
I search many a night
to hear that soft
whimsical note. Now, all serious,
as if too much worry
anchors him down. no happiness
in sight. what I wouldn't do
give, to be tha one
to light up his face, once more
just, once more ....

 

[christabelll]

Just finished transcribing all the things I wrote...
Its been a long time, and some still sting with the newness of being born.
Words. Such words. twisting in the wind awaiting yet more words to join their voiceless prayer.

Why do none respond? Right. No. Left. No.
I dont know anymore... but I will take these snippets and see where they roll to now. Perhaps a tying of lose strings or a severing of cords yet remaining.
First things first however...

More transcription so nothing gets lost in the electronic transmission of supposed brilliance. So many shining moments and dreafully muddy ones too.
One supposes you can wipe your ass with it. But then again- paper cuts suck.






(must be the meds)

 

[unpredictablebijou]

bumpity bump

 

[denis hale]

no, it ain't somerset, mom

CRITIQUE

It was no good, fighting them.

His ankles were laced to a bamboo shackle,
the same length and consistency as the cane
Bridget used minutes earlier, on his backside:

“Ohh, you’re gonna learn, now… To swallow
that pride… To TAKE SOME, LITTLE BOY!”

The welts he felt the most?

Inside his thighs. Bridget was there now, cupping
his buttocks, limning his balls with her superheated
sighs. Michelle had fistfuls of his hair, and one erect
nipple—she guided him there.

“Well,” she purred, “Do you think you can take it?”

He’d gone to the loft, as instructed, with his notebooks,
and Sharpies, rough drafts, paperbacks by Keats, Plath,
and De Sade.

“But I only wanted feedback
ON MY POETRY!” he wailed.

Michelle was way ahead of him, forcing
her swollen nipple past his bared teeth.

“You suck,” she whispered, “now get
underneath…”

 

[PandoraGlitters]

That's some vivid writing, Mr. Hale. Inspiring in a few ways.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

And who are Bridget and Michelle? A few names on Lit spring to mind

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Saucer

. . . . .

 

[UnderYourSpell]

bloody helllllll

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Pandora, damn!

*off to recuperate*

 

[PandoraGlitters]

. . . . .

 

[sassynyc]

Pandora, me thinks the new AV is not a coincidence.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

kitten loves being offleash in the back yard, chasing after leaves and making Mistress laugh. she stands up on hind legs and places a gloved paw on Her taut titty.

"What do you need slut. Come here, I know what." Mistress pulls out a red marker. Unbuttoning kitty's sweater and letting it hang open like curtains against bare tits, Mistress writes SLUT in large red letters, the S and T covering pink nipples in ink.

"Is it permanent, Ma'am?"
"Yes, kitten."
*sniff*

"Thank you, Mistress. May I pee?"
"Against the tree, kitten."

"Oh, Mistress!"
“That's a good slut,”
finger deep.

more more !!!!

 

[FlippantDavid]

She had clearly decided that she would be the One to take me for the first time. As we hid from the sheriff in the barn, we heard the dogs off in the distance, barking at the undies she had left in the field half a county over. Would her ruse delay the posse long enough for us to enjoy each other?

As she undressed me, I began to detect the scent of silver, my olfactory nerves being particularly sensitive to it. Then it dawned on me, "You're one of them!"

"Just give yourself up," she said, and kissed me.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Silver?

 

[Angeline]

And they lived happily ever after.

A writer I love, a famous writer known for his novels, said in an interview that he begins every book with the ending. He writes the ending first and works backward to create the story. What, I wonder, is the benefit of that? One could give every story a happy ending. Of course, no story has a real happy ending unless it's a fairy tale. Fairy tales are magical reads, fun and frothy, and they can have dangerous and exciting twists and turns. But they're never really scary because you know the ending will be happy.

None of my writer's stories have happy endings. Sometimes magic happens and sometimes very sad events happen but, the endings don't sew everything up neat and pretty. They're realistic. And realistic, I suppose, is easier to write and work backward from. It's always easier to tell the truth.

More than 100 words, but oh well ~

 

[Tzara]

And they lived happily ever after.

A writer I love, a famous writer known for his novels, said in an interview that he begins every book with the ending. He writes the ending first and works backward to create the story. What, I wonder, is the benefit of that? One could give every story a happy ending. Of course, no story has a real happy ending unless it's a fairy tale. Fairy tales are magical reads, fun and frothy, and they can have dangerous and exciting twists and turns. But they're never really scary because you know the ending will be happy.

None of my writer's stories have happy endings. Sometimes magic happens and sometimes very sad events happen but, the endings don't sew everything up neat and pretty. They're realistic. And realistic, I suppose, is easier to write and work backward from. It's always easier to tell the truth.

More than 100 words, but oh well ~

Actually, 144 (twelve squared, curiously) if one discounts the first line as title and the last line as frustrated comment.

You're a editor, my dear. Get out the blue pencil and gut the enemy.

Or, treat it as an exercise and cook dinner for T and proceed onto those homey things the rest of us don't need to know about.

Life. It's choice. And all good.