ghosts in here.

Shaking beneath
this skin,
my thoughts echo

like footsteps in
empty hallways
and

unseemly shadows
lurking against
the walls.

I realize, then,
that sometimes,
(sometimes)

a ghost is
just a
ghost.

& no amount
of wanting
to be more;

searching for paths
& seeking a way home;

no amount of struggling
to fight dark &
find self

will change the nature
[of a ghost].

[aarnett2013]

The Brief Love of Worm & Apple

Prompt: Write two short poems about a worm meeting an apple. One from the worm’s perspective, one from the apple’s.

The Worm’s Perspective
Apple, oh Apple.
Your skin, shining
like a tiny sun.

Glorious flesh
caresses my eyes
(if I had any).

Your feel, your taste;
Oh Apple, it’s heaven.
Heaven in my almost-mouth.

The Apple’s Perspective
Ahhh! Get away!
Back, I say!
Don’t touch!
Don’t eat!
Oh, this curse
that we had to meet!

[The end. Ha!]

wormy apple

Aside

To The Ginger Goes The Doll

I hate headaches. Headaches make me want to yank my brain out and step on it. Rawr.

Prompt from http://www.writing.com/main/writing_prompts, because my brain hurts: “A new employee in a toy store finds an old supernatural Barbie doll.”

“Oh my gosh!” Kayla was running up the aisle, a rectangular box in her hands. She slid to a stop, her Converse squeaking on the floor. “Look what I found! Look what I found!”

Angi and Rachael exchanged a glance. “What did you find?” Rachael asked, peering at the box the other girl held. With a flourish, Kayla turned the box to face them.

“A Dean Winchester doll!”

Kayla turned to her left as her fiancée and fellow employee joined the group. “No way,” he shook his head, eyes on the doll, “What will you do with that thing? You don’t need that. Put it back.”

Kayla glared (and an impressive glare it was, for Kayla was a ginger). Angi and Rachael stepped back to avoid the crossfire.

Turning the full strength of her mighty glare upon her fiancée, she stomped one Converse-clad foot and declared, “I needs it!”

It was a happy new toy-store employee who went home with the Dean Winchester doll that night.

Aside

The One With Kenny Chesney And The Zombies

Prompt: “Your friend discovers an alternative fuel and the car makers try to kill him.”

‘Wait! I have to stop for a minute.’ I leaned against the concrete wall of the abandoned service station, hands resting on my thighs and gasping for breath, ‘How long have we been running now?’ My best friend leaned next to me, sliding down the wall to sit on the ground. “I don’t know,” she was trying to catch her own breath, “Two days now?” I joined her on the ground and we scanned our surroundings for a minute. The only sounds were the distant traffic and our labored breathing.

Beverly pulled a bottle of water from the backpack slung over her shoulder. She opened it and took a drink, then passed it to me. “This is crazy!” Only she used more colorful expressions, expressions so colorful that they’re not allowed in short stories and even some porn. I nodded in agreement – I was quite used to her colorful expressions, they only made me cringe a little now. “You did discover a new fuel,” I reminded her, passing the water bottle back to her, “One that would put half the big-wig corporations out of business. It’s no wonder they’re trying to kill us.” “How was I supposed to know that mixing mayonnaise and ranch dressing would make a car run?” Bev kicked at a rock near her foot, “I was just trying to jack up that SOB’s car for taking the last Twinkie at Circle K!”

I giggled suddenly, “You and your Twinkies. We should be in a zombie movie.” “Well,” she shot me a grin, “We did turn that whole laundry mat full of people into zombies when we threw that vial with the virus at them.” “I just wanted to see what it would do!” Gotta defend my actions, even if they were a little on the not-too-smart-there side.

“No worries,” Bev shot me a confident smirk as she lit up a smoke, “We’ll be fine when we get to Kenny Chesney’s place. Our contacts said he would help us out.” “You’ve been planning to kidnap Kenny Chesney for years now,” I rolled my eyes, “but Kayla knows her CIA agents and swears he’s one, so it’s worth a shot.” We stood and picked up our packs and shotguns. “Let’s go, before those whackos from the car companies find us again.” “Or the zombies,” Bev added, taking a last puff off her cigarette. We walked away from the station; it went up in flames behind us as she tossed her smoke over her shoulder.

We do like to make a scene.

Aside

No Dignity In Death (By Woodchipper)

Prompt:  ‘I have the right to die in a dignified manner,” she told her family.’

The family stood outside the storage shed – Mom and dad, two brothers and three sisters. Their eyes were on the fourth sister, who stood next to a large contraption which sat outside the shed’s doors.

The fourth daughter was upset. “I have the right to die in a dignified manner,” she told her family. “Now Betsy,” Mom stepped forward, hands on her hips and a scowl on her face, “There is nothing dignified about throwing yourself into the wood chipper!” “She’s right, you know,” one of the twin brothers (oldest by two minutes) added, “Your guts and blood and bones are gonna fly everywhere.” “And I just did that laundry!” the youngest sister pointed to the clothesline which hung nearby, drying in the gentle breeze (because drying them on the line made them smell springtime fresh). It was in the direct line of fire of the wood chipper.

“Well it’s not fair!” Betsy stomped her foot, “Bobby was supposed to take me to the prom and now he’s taking that — that — whore!”

Pop covered his hands with his face, Mom gasped “Language!” and the other sisters giggled. The brothers rolled their eyes simultaneously.

“Is that all?” the youngest of the twins asked. “Is that all? Is that all!” Betsy picked up a piece of wood and chucked it at him, “I don’t have a prom date! Everyone will laugh at me!”

“We’ll take care of that girl for you,” the oldest brother soothed, “then you’ll have your prom date back.” “Sure,” his twin agreed with a grin, “Knock her in the head, take her out to Pike’s Point and throw her in the woods, they won’t find her for months. Prom will be over by then.”

“You would do that for me?” Betsy smiled for the first time since her date had dumped her, “Really?”

“Of course,” both brothers agreed, “Anything for our little sister!”

“You’re the best!” Betsy threw herself at her brothers, nearly knocking them over.

“Can we go inside now?” Pop shook his head and turned toward the house, “My dinner’s getting cold.”

 

Aside

10 Lines

“Write a 10 line poem”.

Write a 10 line poem, it says.
How dare it demand creativity
like it’s demanding oxygen?

You’re not the boss of me, prompt.
You don’t make up my life!
I write what I want, when I want!

Who are you to tell me
what I should write, and when?
You’re just a prompt, that’s all.

A 10 line poem, indeed.

Aside

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