Please accept that our life has not been easy. Our. The double lipped mouth- Giving permission to be. We don’t ask permission to live. Remember there’s a notch on the door that asks for you. Which void would we like? – A child in their bed watches their bedroom door. Soon foot steps. and light. The child pulls their covers to their faces.
A Short Story
Written by -M. Taggart
Don’t Watch Her Cry
It hurt to watch her cry. She convulsed. Her head shook up and down. I wanted to put my arms around her. She was hating me. Maybe, though she needed it. It was my fault. I didn’t know my words damaged her this badly. Now though, I could see what each of them had done. Her hair was down and I couldn’t see her face. I only saw tears dropping near her feet.
Another me had raised my arms and put them around her shoulders. I fought the mind game I placed on myself. If she hates me, let her rot. Let her rot in Hell. My arms pulled her head to my chest. I could feel my heart beat. I hate my heart beating.
‘Don’t. It’s O.K. I Love you.’
She convulsed and my heart now hated me.
‘I don’t know. I don’t want this. Listen, I love you. You don’t believe me, but, I do. I don’t want what I said. I’m sorry.’
Her neck smelled so nice. Her tears too. My thoughts struggled.
She didn’t push away. I pulled her closer. Maybe it wasn’t over. ‘I just want to have you back.’ her throat full, ‘You use to be so amazing. You were, incredible.’ she had huffed the words through.
I was. I were. I am not. I am nothing. I hate myself. My heart can now stop completely.
My other self rubbed her back and told her I loved her and that it would be O.K.
She stood. Not ripping from me, but leaving me. ‘I don’t know how it can be again.’ tears streamed down her beautiful face, dripping from her chin. ‘But I think it will be.’
We sit, clashing smiles, seeing each other, hoping for blood. Again. It’s not enough to read our history. Word of mouth is a joke we understand, it’ll only play out nicely when we kill one another. Don’t you agree. The boy was confused by the rock. It was a menacing rock. He’d been deep in the woods and fallen asleep next to it. ‘Why do you speak to me, rock.’ the rock did not reply.
Fear is waiting for your child’s chest to heave.
Two babies cry, one is fed. -M. Taggart
It’s no secret that Ernest Hemingway is my favorite author. This is my first six word story. When I feed Gavin I find myself thinking of little ones going without. Their cries shredding the night, falling on ears without care.
My grandfather was orphaned as an infant. I’m proud to say I see a bit of him in Gavin.
It’s Friday and it’s October! Have an adult cocktail and proof read this story. It’s safe for 9-13. It’s a clean and fun story. Read it to them or let them read it to each other.
It’s free and it’s better than the shit that’s on TV.
Bodies in the Basement-
Time is irrelevant. Move faster and time slows down. Don’t argue with me. Argue with Einstein and his findings. I happen to agree with him. Time is a man made matrix. It has never been anything at all and yet we gauge much by time. When to take a break. How long we have to take it. When to wake up, do homework, go to sleep. Take time away and society falls apart. Speed time up and all slows down and maybe we don’t mind being late to work because there is no late. For me, I try and think without the issues of time. Late is a personal preference and if I am, the sensitivities of other will not speed my anxiety because that too is a mindful act which is among the worst. Anxiety is fear of the future without full understanding of its outcomes. It’s the worst type of game play. It happens and will lay you upon the floor, alone, and waiting to die. Yet, when it’s over, you’re fine and you move forward. Sometimes you forget it took place. It wasn’t real and we made it real. If we can make time without worry and worries real without despair we might be onto something.
It’s a shame that I chew my ice being afraid that you can hear it. -M. Taggart