#creative short

[boustrophedonencarton]

[incorrectly-quoted-queers]

Gays in Space pt. 1

“So why do you use a sword... in space?”

Mara Sai was used to the question, but it got boring when the answer never changed. Perhaps she should just make a business card. Sure, this dress had no pockets so she’d probably have to stick them down her bra, and the expressions would still be just as grotesque as expected, but it would end every conversation a lot faster. Being one of the only humans around already made a spectacle out of her, and somehow, everyone still only wanted to talk about the damned sword. 

When she sighed and answered, she hadn’t meant to make herself sound so comatose. “Because it’s cool.”

The alien across from her, with bugged blue eyes that looked like pupil-less starry skies, just took a simple step backward. “...Right.” And then she was gone.

Pity. That one had been quite pretty. 

Sighing, Mara tried her best to make people focus on her gown, or even her skin, not the knife strapped to her back. If the solar flare gala didn’t prove a riveting event that deserved forcing her to play nice around fancy, boring people, she really should consider refusing next year’s invitation. 

But how could she miss whoever they were setting on fire this year? Or the inevitable reunion that came afterwards?

It had already been a year since she saw Umbra last.

Before she could contemplate breaking seven Illian laws to get into the manor, though, someone new walked up. This one had their hands neatly tucked behind their back and wore pleated pants below the most well-ironed blouse and blazer she’d ever seen in her life. They parted two well-rounded lips and started to ask, “So, why-”

“The sword’s just cool, okay? Could you all buzz off already? I’m not here for you.”

With a smirk, they took another step closer. Their motley of green and blue skin glittered under the planetarium’s constellation lights. They were tall and willowy, but gentle features smoothed out every edge, and even a sarcastic smile looked soft and inviting. And Mara didn’t even know how to get started on their three amber-colored eyes, starlit and steady.

Where she’d normally bristle and push anyone away, Mara now stood silent. 

She didn’t like when strangers left her speechless. 

Leaning down, their soft, black hair brushed Mara’s cheek, and they said, “I was going to ask why the sun wasn’t in the sky tonight. And if I could be blessed enough to spend the night by her side.”

[imamotherfuckinglady]

She feels exhaustion pressing gentle fingers beneath her eyes. She tries to swallow the pills dry around her shaking breath; they rattle hard against her teeth as she gags on them, one hand pressed firmly over her closed lips and her eyes blown wide. She haunches over, curled in pain and spilling blood bright against the cold white tile. She brings shaking fingers to comb slowly through her hair: an attempt to soothe herself, as she no longer has anyone else who would. The body cools beside her, hemorrhaging the last of her blood in its veins. The body's unblinking eyes stare a frozen smile. The body is not her fault in the way that nothing ever is.

[mrs-alicejones]

Video inspiration "Love" by Aris Jerome

[beautifulsuspicion-blog]

Water

Beneath the water of fallen ridge, she lifts her veil. Her heart jagged from the many who broke her, yet none less whole because her strength carries on. She’s as stalwart as the night before her, tried and true and a reckless need breaks within her. Thrusts her sanity to the winding edge, tests her ability to see purgatory before honesty. But there in lies the problem, no? Because inside of every person, there lies a purgatory. Some act on said limbo, while others simmer and some ignore all together. Yet, we all have our battles to face – she wars with hers, hand breaching the wall of cascading water, rivets dancing the length of her slender fingers until droplets spiral from the tip. She holds her breath, closes her hand – her attempt at catching water succeeding, but failing to hold on as the tide slips through the cracks. As palpable and strong as her hand can seem, containable water refuses to weigh its stay. This cautionary reality settles her into sanity – she breathes; one, two, three. Opens her hand. And tries again.

[aacaegtoo]

Machine

A machine re-wrote her stories. Placed them at a table with her morning coffee. As a silver spoon of scratched, listed downtown reflection. She'd write away for to seal lines, 'Fix me up, sit me down, lay me up, let me go down babe. Now turn around, hit a town built of embers within storms.' Her way, his outside of this smokey town, 'Where'd you leave to this week?' Since you gotta go and speak somehow without me. He had loved that face. Lost to rippled shores run fast and gone. Such a pretty face, so easy to hate now that time's gotta leave. Home is where you'd want to sleep even if you'd called again. Left once, collected your dreams to hide away. Gave in to her world, shared a give or take with how her life dared stories to go, 'Fix me up, sit me down, lay me up, let me go down babe.' A day we had ditched even though we've grown, to pick up. Switch our late night labels out where he'll take this storm and set it free. To wait the day she runs for us on any given 'should', should speak, 'Fix me up, sit me down, lay me up, let me down babe.'