Daily Prompt – Ghost

 

The ghost of me wanders this house

As if you had never left

Waiting patiently to hear

The click of the lock on the front door

And feel the rush

Of the cold winter air

As the door opens

And your presence warms

The otherwise bleak foyer

I’ve lost count of the number of weeks

I’ve wandered

Waiting patiently

A ghost of the person

I used to be

Daily Prompt – Complicated

“Have you told your mother yet?” She asked the question idly while looking at the ring on her left hand. She was still awed by its size and beauty. She couldn’t have chosen a more perfect diamond herself. Looking up she watched as he poured two glasses of wine. He still hadn’t answered the question so she pressed on. “Did you hear me?”

He slowly picked up the wine goblets and paused before turning, fixing a smile on his face. “It’s complicated.” His two-word answer only agitated her. She refused the glass he offered. “How complicated could it be? You proposed, I said yes. That seems pretty simple.” She saw a dark look cross his face so quickly, almost imperceptible but she knew. Her eyebrow raised in suspicion. “Or is the fact that I’m but a lowly shop girl keeping you from telling dear mum?”

His silence was all she needed. She stood and reached for her coat and handbag. He moved quickly to intercept her, an attempt to allay her correct assumptions. “You know my mother has high expectations when it comes to her only son. I have to wait for the right time to tell her. It’s”

“Complicated.” She finished the sentence for him, making no attempt to hide the contempt in her eyes. She grabbed the coat from his hands and put it on, slowly buttoning it, prolonging his bewilderment. Removing the engagement ring she placed it in his hand and curled his fingers over it, encasing it in his palm. “When you find an uncomplicated girl you can give her this.”

Daily Prompt – Reach

Our laughter fills the night air as you pull me in for a long kiss. I can taste the whiskey on your tongue, the bite contrasts to the sweet wine I’ve drunk. Leaning against the rail I see the dark, churning water below. There’s something romantic about a ferry boat ride to Nantucket for a long romantic weekend. Even on this cool September night I insist we stand outside under the full moon. I see a shooting star and in my excitement tug on your sleeve, urging you to make a wish. I’ve already made mine and smile at your profile, pronounced by the light of the moon and stars, watching as you intently think then close your eyes, a silent prayer lifted to the universe.

As we near our destination I’m content to stand encircled in your arms, your warmth radiates onto me providing respite from the cool, damp fall air. An involuntary shiver runs down my spine and you pull me closer against your body, my back against your chest, my ass against your groin. I can feel your desire and think of the delicious night that lies ahead. You can’t see the wicked smile that crosses my lips but my hands reach behind me to grab your ass and pull you closer still. I can see the dock ahead and I’m counting the minutes until we’re safely in our room, locked away from prying eyes, alone and intimately close. I try to steady my breath, pacing myself, waiting.

Suddenly I feel a jolt and lose my footing. I’m tousled about like a leaf in a strong wind. Grasping, I reach for your hand and feel only your fingers, slipping away until it’s just the fingertips then nothing but space. In slow motion I fly through the air, like an astronaut in zero gravity, with no particular destination. I feel a dull thud as I crash against the railing then an icy shock as I hit the water.

I plunge underneath the surface, taking in a mouthful of acrid water before I realize where I am. Kicking my feet, I push upward and emerge from the depths, spitting out the water then taking a deep inhale. I look around in shock, trying to get my bearings. Carnage surrounds me. Twisted metal, bodies, flotsam and jetsam. It feels like years since I was on the deck, encircled in your arms. I twirl in the water, screaming your name. The full moon doesn’t provide enough light to find my way to you. I paddle in one direction then another desperate to find you.

A rescue raft approaches and a man extends his hand. My self-preservation kicks in and I reach for it. My heart sinks at the thought of abandoning you to the icy water. I pray that my wish upon the shooting star will come true. That you will be the one who makes my life complete.

Daily Prompt – Obsessed

I am always slightly, or overly obsessed with something. I must have something in my life to capture my attention so thoroughly that the noise in my brain is kept at bay. If I wasn’t obsessed with something at all times my mind would simply explode with the random thoughts that sprout and blossom at a constant and rapid rate. My obsessions keep things manageable; keep me from going stark raving mad.

Daily Prompt – Surface

The pond was still, its surface as smooth as glass. The sun glinted off the azure blue and hit his eyes, his hand raising reflexively to provide shade. He took in a deep breath, the smell of wildflowers and grass heavy in the thick summer air. The heat was oppressive and he could feel beads of sweat rolling down his chest and back.

He recalled his youth; lazy days spent with friends doing nothing and trying hard to stay out of trouble. Everything had been so simple then. He closed his eyes, saying a silent prayer for his recently deceased childhood friend. “This one’s for you Rusty.” He took a running start and did a cannonball off the dock, breaking the clear surface of the water, creating a cascade of waves.

Surfacing, he pushed back his hair and smiled, looking at the bright sky. “I miss you brother.”

Daily Prompt – Maybe

Maybe today I’ll start writing that story. The one I thought of at 3 am on Thursday when I couldn’t sleep. I know I have notes written somewhere. Oh, here’s the invitation to my nephew’s wedding. Maybe I’ll get online and pick out a gift from their registry since the wedding is in three weeks. Let me just sign in. Oh, an email from my mother. I forgot to return her call last week. Now she’s giving me the guilt trip in writing. Maybe I should call her, where’s my cell phone. I think I left it on the charger, upstairs. Aargh, why do those boys think it’s okay to leave their shoes and books on the stairs? I’ll drop them on their bedroom floor on the way. Good Lord, when did the tornado hit this room? Maybe we need to have another talk about cleanliness. Where was I? Oh yes, the phone. Maybe after I call mom I can take a long nice soak in the bath. That will help me relax and I’ll sleep better. Then I won’t be up at 3 am thinking about a new story. Wait, maybe before I call mom I should start writing that story while it’s fresh in my mind.

Daily Prompt – Joke

“This has to be a joke.” I stared across the room at the suitcase sitting near the front door. His vacant eyes told me all I needed to know. I exhaled deeply. “Are you in love with her? No, don’t answer, I don’t want to know.”

I fought back tears, too proud to let him see me cry. God how I wished this was a joke.

“You’re really leaving? Throwing away ten years for someone you met two months ago?” He still hadn’t said a word, perhaps too ashamed to try and explain. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

I turned my back and stared out the window, arms folded tightly across my chest. “Just go.” I heard the sound of the front door opening then the click as the door knob latched back in place.

And just like that he was gone. It was no joke.

Daily Prompt – Elusive

I struggle today, my thoughts elusive, hovering just out of reach, hesitating to tell my story. My pen hovers over the paper, my hand shaking with anticipation. Still nothing comes. I sigh and put the pen down until tomorrow.

Daily Prompt – Frail

Faint memories skimmed the edges of her mind like dragonflies alighting the surface of a pond. She struggled to grasp them and hold onto them but they fell through her fingers and away like so many others. She was once strong and fierce, a force to be reckoned with. But with the softness and sweetness of an angel. Her life had been a struggle, but not more so than anyone else. She held her head high, proud to call herself a woman. Proud to call herself a wife, a mother. Proud to be a God fearing woman who earned an honest wage.

The years came and went and she stayed strong and fierce. The struggle remained and she fought with everything in her. But eventually, no matter how strong and fierce, no matter how soft and sweet, we lose the fight. We become such frail, fragile things. Mere shadows of our former selves.

Her frail memory would not let her recall her former glory. Nor could she remember how strong and fierce she once was. Or how soft and sweet. She struggled to find any memories at all. They all seemed to be just there, at the edge of her mind, where the dragonflies alit on the surface.

Daily Prompt – Drive

I sit, paralyzed with fear. I can’t leave but I can’t stay. My heart tells me to run as fast and as far as I can. Get in the car and drive and never look back. But my head . . . damn if my head doesn’t tell me the same thing. Except something is keeping me from leaving. Not my heart, not my head. Then what? Fear. Fear of failure. Fear of success. Fear that I might be okay alone and fear that I might not. I want to get in the car and drive. Drive as far and as fast as I can and never look back. I don’t care what direction, as long as it’s away from here. But I sit, paralyzed with fear.

Daily Prompt – Storm

A storm was brewing on the horizon. She could feel it in her bones. She always knew when there was something coming. A dark cloud hung over her. She got a strange chill in her spine, that feeling you get when you think someone is following you in the shadows. It was going to be a bad night. She braced herself for the worst.

He burst into the room like a Category 4 hurricane, winds howling, rain pelting against the glass windows, battering the house with its full force. Except it wasn’t an outside force. This rage came from within.

She stood ready to withstand the gale. She had done this before. It wasn’t her first battle with him and his demons. But she loved him and she was willing to fight for him, with him. First there would be the accusation. She would counter with facts. The truth about where she was, who she was with, proof of her innocence. Then there would be the doubt. Perhaps someone was covering for her. A friend providing an alibi. An elaborate cover-up. He had a great imagination when it came to her testimony.

They would have a free-for-all fight. Throw words at each other, accusations, ugly reminders of past discretions. He would go for the liquor cabinet. That was a certainty. He liked his bourbon on nights like these. She would have liked to stop him but it only urged him on. So she watched him pour two fingers and drink, hoping it would stop at one glass.

He would glare at her in contempt and she would cringe, knowing the one time mistake would forever haunt her. For this she paid the price time and again. The storm raged on. Eventually he would calm, either pass out or let the rage pass and sleep in the guest bedroom down the hall. She was left on her own, to relive her own failures, her own regrets. She was a fallen woman and no amount of penance would change that.

The storm had come and passed. Once again she had weathered it. But at what cost?

 

Daily Prompt – Guest

My mother told me to save the fine china for when we had guests. Except we never have guests. I’m an introvert. I married an introvert. We don’t like dinner parties. We barely like family dinners. Except with our two sons. Who don’t appreciate fine china.

I don’t know why I even got the china. Tradition. I didn’t have a ‘real’ wedding. It was a halfway elopement. The china came as birthday and Christmas and anniversary presents for years afterwards from my mother-in-law until I finally told her I had a complete set. And I’ve used it exactly once. At Thanksgiving. To prove a point. That I had a set of fine china and I could use it. It made my husband and sons extremely uncomfortable. Then they glared at me when I told them they couldn’t put it in the dishwasher.

I’ve tried to use the china again. But my husband resists at every turn. He hates it when I pull out a tablecloth. “No, I’ll just spill something on it and stain it.” He puts a dishcloth underneath his plate to protect the $30.00 tablecloth. So fine china is a no go in our house. It sits on the top shelf of the cabinet. Occasionally I think about pulling it down to use for dinner. Then I think about my mother. “Save the fine china for when you have guests.” I sigh. But I don’t have guests.

Daily Prompt – Cowardice

I sit here alone. Fighting the urge to talk. No, I’ve drawn my line. I’m right. I’m RIGHT. That’s what matters. After all it’s a black and white world. Or at least it should be. I’m right. And what happened to me is wrong. So I made my stand. My silent stand. We’ll see how many people miss me. My friends, my true friends, they should stand with me. They should defend me. I won’t be alone. Will I? Are there people who will fight for someone else’s honor any more? Am I the last great hero? Is my silence just an act of cowardice?