Excerpt from Flushed (Horror Short)

When I wake in the morning, I start for a moment, forgetting where I am. Greg shifts in the bed. I turn, imagining Mom lying there, but then a grin spreads across my face. I take in his messy dark hair and two days of beard growth on his strong jaw. His brow furrows like he’s deep in concentration. His light snores are a comfort.

And I realize Mom didn’t plague me last night.

I lie there for a while, just taking him in, my mind at ease. His eyes flutter open. He smiles.

“You stayed.”

“Of course.”

He sits up with a jolt of energy like the chirpy morning person he is. “Coffee?”

“Yeah, sure.” Meanwhile, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand with greater effort than a 25-year-old woman should feel.

The evidence of our lovemaking is in the scattered clothes. I grab my shirt and underwear, tug them on. The coolness of the hard floor under my feet feels good in the summer heat. I stumble into the bathroom and stare at my reflection. The circles around my eyes aren’t as pronounced, but my pallor could use some sun. Maybe a day at the beach soon, even if Lake Erie isn’t the same as the ocean…it’s a beach. I rake my hands through my tangled dark blond hair. The limp strands hang around my face. Greg tells me I’m pretty, but I don’t see it. Not lately.

By the time I enter the kitchen, Greg has a cup of coffee on the counter for me and is brewing his own in his single-serve coffeemaker. He takes the vanilla creamer out of the fridge, passes it to me.

“Sleep well?”

I nod. “Yeah, probably the best sleep I’ve had since…you know…”

Greg grabs his cup of coffee and joins me at the island. “You know, you could just pour, sprinkle, whatever her ashes somewhere.”

“I tried to throw them away. Somehow, I couldn’t.” I take a long swig of coffee, allowing the warmth to calm me on its way down.

“But why? If she was such an awful person, why not just get rid of the bitch once and for all?”

“There’s a reason…well, lots of reasons…why I never introduced you, Greg. My mom was clinically insane at the end, kept in an institution since I was 22. I never wanted to tell you all that shit, all that went down growing up with her.”

“You told me some stuff.”

“Yeah, but it was better that way. I wanted to bury her with all the memories, yet I just can’t. She’s still my mom, you know? As fucked up as that is…”

“So there must’ve been something redeeming about her?”

I shrug, push the coffee away as my stomach churns. The heat intensifies around me, a thick cloud wrapping me, suffocating me as Greg stares at me. Imploring me. “Why are you looking at me like I’m the one who’s crazy? She was likely off since who knows when. She wasn’t fit to raise a kid, but there you have it. The damage’s been done.”

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Poetry Tuesday – The Real Me

You want to see the real me?

Close your eyes

And open your heart.

Stop expecting what you thought was true.

Do you know what that is or was?

When you find out,

Let me know.

Do me the favor of shutting your mouth.

Words, words, and more words,

They don’t mean a thing.

Utterances and vibrations the mouth creates

Pass into thin air and die,

But what the heart speaks remains forever,

Though often hidden, embedded in silence.

You ask me (in words again)

How to know what’s inside me,

But I stare at you,

Shake my head.

Were you ever really listening?

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Excerpt from A Laughing Matter of Pain

December begins with a snowstorm. Business is bad for a whole week. The advantage to this? I spend more time with Kathy. In the small house, there’s not much room for privacy. Dawson and Betty are never more than a room away. The four of us play cards or listen to the evening radio programs. Betty never complains about jazz like Ma did, although Dawson usually nods off within ten minutes of the radio going on. Betty sits with a book in one of the armchairs near the window while her husband snores away in the other. Most evenings, Kathy and I sit on the couch, although sometimes we remain in the kitchen long after dinner, talking over coffee and one after another cigarette for me.

The second week of December, the weather breaks. Dawson and I work all day in the cold, my fingers numb by the time dinner comes. After another busy day, Kathy’s parents rest in their usual spots in the living room while Kathy and I sit at the kitchen table. The crackle of the fire and Dawson’s snores are the only sounds.

“Has your dad always slept like he could sleep through a war?” I ask.

Kathy giggles. “Yeah, it’s pretty bad sometimes. I don’t know how Mom sleeps in the same room as him. I don’t suppose you snore?”

I shrug. “I wouldn’t know. My brother and me shared a room growing up. He never said anything. Why? You afraid I’d keep you up?” Realizing what I’ve said, I blush.

“That would assume sleeping in the same bed as me.” Kathy half-smiles and wrinkles her nose at me.

“Well, maybe…one day? I mean, if we ever, you know, married.” My blush deepens, as I know I’m getting ahead of myself.

“Are you asking?”

“Just…dreaming. A guy can dream, can’t he?”

“Nothing wrong with dreams.” Kathy takes my hand across the table. “Dreams are what keep us going through the hard times…and hope.”

“I like the sound of that. I think so, too.” I stare into her eyes, imaging her beautiful soul. “Your eyes are the same color as mine.” If we ever had kids together, they’d be sure to have blue eyes.

“You have nice eyes, Harry. And a nice smile.”

“A crooked smile, more like. My brother, Erik, was graced with the good looks in my family.” I laugh.

“Hmm, well, I don’t know what your brother looks like, but I don’t mind looking at you.”

“I’d rather look at you if it’s all the same.” I grin.

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My novel, Lorna versus Laura, is available for $4.99 here.

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Poetry Tuesday – Never Happened

Expectations,

But not exceptions,

This is how I ought to be.

Maybe in your eyes,

To some other person,

Maybe a great goddess,

Maybe a prissy princess,

Perhaps even a porcelain doll,

Flawless, untouchable,

Beautiful, pristine,

Never stepping in the mud,

Falling, twisting my ankle,

Breaking my face in two.

But see, I already have fallen

And cursed my weak ankles.

My face is scarred,

And my eyes see clearly

I’m in the mud.

You don’t really see me.

You don’t know who I am.

Maybe I was never even there to you.

I’ll stand, walk away from this incident,

Which incidentally, never happened in your eyes.

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Excerpt from Hannah’s Rainbow

“Do you think dogs go to heaven?” the girl asked, her voice nearly a whisper in the wind.
Hannah smiled sadly. “I’m sure they do.” She put an arm around Irma and drew her close. “Heaven is all things good. Dogs are among the best things in life, so how could it be heaven without our most loyal friends there?”
Irma smiled up at her sister. “Good.”

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Cherished

I have not,

In all m years

Upon this tainted earth,

Looked upon anyone

More beautiful than you.

You are worth every breath

I take of this cleansing air.

I had no found myself

Until I saw my reflection

In your deep eyes.

A fire burns so hidden, intense,

And I long for its unspoken passion

Only found when two hearts are one.

We make love

Upon a sea of silk sheets.

Darling, I utter but one word:

Cherished.

Like what you’ve read?  Please subscribe to my blog, where I post a poem every Tuesday.

My novel, Lorna versus Laura, is available for only $2.99 here.

My novel, Hannah’s Rainbow: Every Color Beautiful, is available for $3.99 here.

Buy Me a Coffee at ko-fi.com

Support me on Patreon!