#minifiction

[smiegrin]

You're not really sure how you got here. You remember doing math homework. You guess you got stuck? You saw this girl across the campus library scribbling on a white board, something that looked a little bit like math. Or maybe it was something else? That's right, you walked up and asked for help. You don't remember what drove you to just walk up like that... but she seemed so excited you asked! Now you've got a table for two and you're making leaps and bounds together. You can tell she knows the answers almost as soon as she sees your questions, but she holds back. You thought she was just playing with you at first, but... the way she bounces... The way she leads you along with requests, with questions about what's right there at the tip of your tongue, Swaying and squeezing her lip, like she wants to shout the answer but wont. Because it's so much better when you say the answer. For you and her. So no matter how close you get or how much you beg for her to just let it out, She insists: but you're so close! Just a little further, c'mon! You guess -- just a burst of intuition. And she squeals! Nearly leaping out of her chair in a burst of joy! But she regains her composure quickly, planting herself right onto you again. That's great, you're getting it! See, you're really smart, you're just still learning the steps! Now, let's go again. The deadline for this assignment isn't until tomorrow, but you get the feeling it might be fun to go all night with this girl anyway.

A little something I drew and wrote almost a year ago that I guess I just... never posted here??? It was inspired by one of the first flirts my girlfriend played on me (complimenting my smarts). We're coming up on one year this week, and I love her so so much...

[bluemoonsim-blog]

[ 5/9 Part ] ไหนพี่ชวนมาเที่ยวน้ำตกไม่ใช่หรอคะ😳🏔💦

[inscrutablemachine]

Writing Prompt Results

I attend a monthly group that gives us a pen, a notepad, a writing prompt, and 15 minutes.  Today we were supposed to make up a character and write about falling in or out of love with them.  The words I got for reference were ‘doll, suture, knife, stab, glisten, sweat, perfume, fool.’

And here is what I wrote!

--------

I awoke to the sight of something crawling up onto my mattress, and when it raised the knife I knew I should never have bought a ‘haunted’ doll as a joke.

It breathed, the seams around its plastic torso stretching, and as I prepared to leap out of bed and run screaming, it... offered me the handle of the knife.

“Could you hold this please?” she asked, in a high, sweet voice.

Very carefully, and very firmly, I took the knife.  As the one with the weapon now, I felt able to wait as my midnight visitor leaned over the edge of my bed, pulling on a string until she raised a tray onto the mattress.  In the dark I only saw grey, but the smell of freshly baked chocolate and cookie dough filled the air like the sweetest perfume.

The little harlequin wiped her forehead with a multicolored arm, and complained, “Why must the living sleep so high - high - high - off - off -”

She stopped, putting her hands over her face.  In a scratchy, almost crying voice, she said, “I’m sorry.  I’m a little broken.”

Unable to be afraid anymore, I reached out and pulled her hands away, stroking my fingers over the sutures holding her cracked doll face together.  “It’s okay.”

What else could I say?

As I whispered, she snuck her little hands to the handle of the knife I’d forgotten.  Lifting it in the air, she twisted out of my grip and stabbed the blade into the cookie tray.  Her face carefully turned away from me, she stammered, “It’s just, I - I - this always goes so badly, so I thought if I started with a - a - a - a gift...”

Gently, I turned her around.  She lifted a cat shaped chocolate chip cookie to my mouth.  I took a bite.  Delicious.  Mumbling as I chewed, I reassured her, “I think you’re wonderful and misunderstood.”

The little plastic and cloth opera fool sniffed, smiled up at me, and mumbled, “Thank you.  Just - just - just one thing.”

Raising the knife again, she finished, “Don’t ever leave me.”

[radicalapollo]

Rock Howard: You know, dad, it’s weird. You showed me Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure when I was a kid, and now it’s becoming more and more popular, and it just occurred to me that we’re kind of living that life. Jojo’s cool and everything, but I’m pretty sure I know someone, in real life, that actually has a stand. What’s up with that? I guess life can be stranger than fiction sometimes, huh?

Terry Bogard: Wait, are you trying to tell me JJBA isn’t a documentary. Oh my god, my life has been a lie.

[ariqyraihan]

Pura-Pura

Kata Twitter, "Apa yang sedang terjadi?"  

Aku jawab, "Tidak ada apa-apa." 

Sembari jemari kananku menutupi luka di dada yang terus mengucurkan penyesalan. Begitu perih—begitu dingin.

[adamthealien]

Alan.

"Alan's always had a habit of showing up just when help is needed most," she reflected, "and then he'd be off chasing that sunset again. As a kid, it seemed to me like he could go on forever." 

 Marcie looked down. 

 "But since I'm giving his eulogy, that was clearly bullshit."

[helianthus-hellion]

How about 4 for the prompt thing!

The tree is very old. It has stood in one spot, from the very first day it fell to the ground as a seed off the fur of a creature it had no memory of. As it reached its first roots out into the dark soil, a child laughed. As it sprouted from the ground, reaching to the sun, she sang. As the tree grew, bit by bit, into a thin and wiry sapling, so too did the girl. She swung on its weak and spindly branches, but she never had far to fall. She grew thicker and rounder, as did the tree. It grew knobbly as she grew pretty, and they were both beautiful. She still swung by the branches, but they held her weight now. She would climb up, up, up, calling out to the other children in the yard, challenging them to climb as high. None of them could, for she knew every part of the tree there was to know. 

The tree blossomed and dropped fruit, and she picked it from the branches, stretching up, up, up on the tips of her toes to reach for the sweetest fruit. She fell asleep nestled in its branches, woken by her parents’ calls as the sun fell in the sky, jumping down and running back to her house. But she always came back.

The tree grew larger as the years passed, and the girl grew prettier, and they were both beautiful. She no longer climbed as often as she used to, but she would sit with her back against the trunk, amidst the grass and wildflowers. Sometime she would sit with others, chatting idly with them, or merely sitting side by side. For some time, she did not return at all. When she did, she carried a child on her hip, and taught her how to climb the highest branches and pick the sweetest fruit. The new child swung in its branches, and the woman sat against the trunk, smiling.

The tree more knotted, as did the woman, and they were both beautiful. The little girl said so, every day. Snow fell, and while the girl wanted to play around the base of the tree, the woman could no longer visit in the cold. Her bones ached and her joints creaked, but she sat in a chair on the porch and watched the girl swing. Again, the woman stopped visiting, as did the girl. When they returned, the girl was no longer as young as she’d been, nor as cheerful, and the woman laid down, down between the tree’s roots.

The tree was very old, and it has stood in one spot, and as it reaches its roots out into the dark soil, a woman rests.

[bluemoonsim-blog]

[ 9/9 Part ] ไหนพี่ชวนมาเที่ยวน้ำตกไม่ใช่หรอคะ😳🏔💦