Terms of Endearment

The King of Hell

2011-10-13T21:27:00.000-07:00

I'm not really digging this entry, but I want to get back into the challenge again. To me, it doesn't really embody this week's word, but it's the best I came up with. This is (very) loosely based off of the television show Supernatural.

Like many people before me, I sold my soul to the Devil for fortuneand fame. I sealed the deal with a kiss, and my blood ran cold as our lipstouched. I looked into her seductive, red eyes and I knew there was now aninvisible expiration date printed on my forehead. Even though I currently havemy freedom, I’ll never be satisfied, because the Devil owns my soul. I knowwhat awaits me on the other side: fire, brimstone, and the devil that claims toloves me. I am the man forced to be the King of Hell.

2011-10-03T16:25:00.000-07:00

It just dawned on me that now that I am putting my work out there for the world to see it may be stolen. Please don't steal my work. It will make me a very sad lady. I don't like to be sad. Happy is where it's at, and comments and critique, as long as they're constructive and not hateful, make me happy.

All the best,
Britt

2011-09-29T12:41:00.001-07:00

My not so great attempt a poetry, but I really love this poem.

I rode across the ocean in a paper boat

And my eyes beheld such beauty

But still I longed for more

I sailed into the sea

And there my paper boat sank

That is where they thought I died

The sea swallowed my soul

My paper boat became foam

And I became the beauty that I sought

Losing Sanity

2011-09-29T12:39:00.001-07:00

My sanity escapes me atthe moment, please forgive me. Lately the time that I am accustomed tohas been shrinking. I have fewer days to air out my mind, and free myself fromthese God awful thoughts that plague me. The less I clear my mind the more thethoughts build, and take shape into horrible beings. They claw at my brain withdemon-like talons. They howl like rabid beasts intent on destroying me. I can alwaysfeel them. The longer I go without a brief break of sanity, the more power theygain. I fear that they will take over soon.

Untitled

2011-09-29T12:38:00.001-07:00

Another work-in-progress:

I left him. We had beenfighting. We fought about everything then. He didn’t like how I folded hisshirts, and I didn’t like how he filled the dishwasher. If something needed tobe cleaned we would fight about who had to clean it. One of us would alwaysclaim that it was the others turn, because they had done it last time. God, itwas all so stupid and petty.

When I left we were arguingabout how little time he spent with me. He was hanging out with friends at thelocal bars. It was only a few times a week, and he was always home beforemidnight. He never came home drunk, never hit me. He barely even drank. All hewanted to do was spend time with his friends. I don’t know why I couldn’t seehis point, but all I could do was focus on my feelings. How could he notunderstand how I felt? I was so angry and frustrated. I just wanted to run; soI did. I screamed at him that I was going for a drive while I grabbed my keys.I didn’t even grab a jacket I was so blinded by anger.

I threw myself into the frigidcar, jammed my key in the ignition and twisted. My little white Toyota came tolife. I paused just long enough to look at the door and contemplate turning thecar off and going inside to apologize, but my poor judgment got the better ofme, as usual. I backed out of my snow covered driveway and into the road. I putmy slowly warming car into drive and started off. At first I drove carefully,then, I started to think about the argument. With each thought my speedelevated. I knew it was stupid, but that didn’t stop me. Snow gracefullyfloated toward ground. It was truly a beautiful winter night, but I took nonotice. I just continued to drive. I ignored everything but the horizon ahead.I drove out of the town and started to descend from our mountain hideaway. Theturns were sharp, but I knew how to handle these winding roads.

On the third turn I hit a patch ofblack ice. I never could have seen it coming. My little Toyota spun out ofcontrol towards the edge of the road, and then rolled down the side of themountain until it was stopped by a tree. The car folded in half around the treeso that the front and back end touched. I didn’t feel any pain, just regret. Ispent too much of my life fighting and being petty. I didn’t even tell him thatI loved him before I left, or that I was sorry. I just left. There would be nomore fighting, no more pettiness, and no more apologies. My life was over inseconds, and I had left so much unsaid and undone. (Continue…)

Death of a Monarch

2011-09-28T11:59:00.000-07:00

I haven't updated here for quite a while. This story is my brainchild. It's a continuous work-in-progress, so critique is more than welcome. The title is even a work in progress.

A single butterfly quickly flutteredpast my head while a plump, balding man chased after it with an oversized net.In one overly dramatic swing of his net the graceful monarch was captured. Witha cruel, uncaring smile the plump man pinned the orange clad beauty to a fiveinch by five inch cork board. Slowly the man looked up at me, the cold smilestill on his face, and I felt a chill run up my spine. I quickly looked awayand continued toward my destination through the empty park; the man soonfollowed. My orange and black dress fluttered as I walked, just like themajestic monarch’s wings had. I quickened my pace as I realized what was tocome, but I had realized this far too late. The whistling of the oversized netwas the last thing I heard before it crashed around me. Before I had notnoticed that the net could easily fit a slender person inside, but as soon as Ihad become the net’s next inhabitance this realization could not escape me. Iviolently thrashed about trying to find a weakness in the construction of themassive net, sadly, I found none. Soon I became so tangled within my brightorange and black dress that I fell to the ground. The plump, balding man pulledthe human sized net off of me, but I was too exhausted to try to escape. Theman was talking as he snapped several pictures of me, but all I could hear wasmy loud heart beat filling my ears. I closed my eyes as I accepted myunavoidable fate. Pain like fire filled my body; it started at my heart andgrew with every breath. The last thing I saw before my eyes closed for eternitywas the cruel fat man unpinning the now lifeless monarch butterfly from itsfive by five cork board, and gently placing it over my heart. My eyesight grewdark, my labored breathing stopped, and I became nothing more than an organicmonument to a dead monarch.

Orange and black wings slowlybegan to tremble, and then they fluttered once, twice, three times. Once thelone monarch became accustomed to its wings it embarked upon its journey intothe sky. The beautiful butterfly left behind the sad world of death it had beenborn upon. As the dazzling monarch butterfly climbed into the brilliant bluesky, the vision of the butterfly killer and his latest prey disappeared and wasreplaced with a beautiful world filled with a rainbow of butterflies. An oldman and a young boy appeared in the distance. The young boy carried with him anet. As the old man and boy drew nearer the butterflies could overhear theirconversation.

“My son,” the old man said, “our job is tocreate new life from old life. Go catch a butterfly and I shall show you.”

The young boy turned from hisfather and watched as butterflies danced from flower to flower and then up intothe air. His eyes landed on a beautiful monarch butterfly. Silently he walkedover to it, gently raised his net and scooped it off its flower perch andbrought it to his father.

The father then asked “Thisbutterfly will soon be a person, shall it be a boy or a girl?”

The boy thought and then replied“A girl!”

The old man let out a deepchuckle. He gently plucked the monarch beauty from the net and motioned for hisson to watch. The man brought the butterfly close to his mouth and whispered toit. Gracefully, the orange clad monarch rose from his hand and began to fluttertowards the ground; then, amazingly, through the ground itself. The boy lookedto his father and noticed he had moved to a nearby well so the boy followedhim.

“Watch” was all his father said.So he did.

The water showed the orange and black monarch flutter to the windowsillof a hospital room. A moment later the cry of a baby could be heard from withinthe room. On the windowsill sat the lifeless body of a once beautiful monarchbutterfly. Soon its body was carried away by a gust of wind; the dead bugfloated through the air until an ugly fat man with an oversized net caught thedull orange and black butterfly. The balding fat man cradled the lifelesscorpse in his stubby hands, one large tear leaked out of his left eye andlanded upon the bugs withered and wrinkled wing. From the dampened spot, colorbegan to brighten and spread across the butterfly’s body. Soon it was onceagain a bright orange and black beauty. The monarch launched itself from thefat man’s hand and into the air to begin its journey in this new land that ithad unknowingly visited so many times before. The ugly balding man with the oversizednet watched the noble beauty until it was just a dot in the blue sky, then heturned on his heels and lumbered off into the darkness to await his nextvictim.

The Black Widow's Game

2011-06-21T21:10:00.000-07:00

I'm back from my mini hiatus. This week's word was a little difficult for me, but its better to have something rather than nothing.

Damn boy, you’ve got some serious lack of game. I definitely came to this bar so you could buy me a drink, try to guess my sign, and woo my phone number from my lips. I’m not that tipsy, so don’t get your hopes up; and for the love of all that is good, please do not use another line on me. If you can’t manage that I’ll have to settle with you. I’ve already roofied your drink just to shut you up. You’re not really my type, but I bet your body would throw the police off my trail.

A Skeleton Princess

2011-05-25T13:29:00.000-07:00

This is pretty much a string of thoughts loosely put together to create a vague sort of story. This is a sad fact for many females and males. A lot of the time it isn't about becoming model like, but the ability to control something. This control they believe they have turns on them, and they become controlled by their eating disorder. I'll stop babbling now.

I want to be a skeleton princess with a ribcage corset and a purse filled with water bottles and cigarettes. I am going to shrink my way to royalty one empty spoonful at a time. I’ll be Death’s mistress. I envy him for his bones, but love him for his personality. I control food so it cannot control me. I have become obsessive, depressed, and malnourished. I don’t need help. I just need beautiful bones. My self-loathing is temporary. Everything will be fine once I am perfect. Starvation is my goddess, and I will follow her to my early grave.

Paradise

2011-05-18T16:38:00.000-07:00

This isn't my personal best, but I've got nothing else to work with. My brain has decided to block all the good creativity. Blah...

I know the chasm created between us could never be filled with feelings for one another again, so something else has taken its place. I filled the void with water and hauled in sand for a beach. I planted waving palm trees to remind you that you left me with an uncaring wave and a turned back. Nowadays I relax in a lounging beach chair and slowly sip on a fruity cocktail. From time to time I wonder how you are, but only long enough to lift the binoculars to my eyes and watch you drown in your own sorrow.

Alzheimer's

2011-05-10T22:46:00.000-07:00

I have decided to put myself out there for once, so I'm participating in the 100 Word Challenge. Wish me luck! Here is my first entry:

I could almost see her brain working. It was like an old car. You could put the key in the ignition, turn it, feel the car shake with old age and over exertion, hear the pistons groan as they try to pump life into the decrepit car, but the pistons have been rusted into their stationary positions. Her forehead creased in frustration and confusion. She was trying to answer a simple question: Do you remember me today? I’ve known her for twenty years, but every time I come to visit my great grandmother she meets me for the first time.