Story #41

“Woah! How did you do that,” Jake asked excitedly.

“I’m not really sure,” Camille responded. “There’s a light that burns inside of me. I feel it in my limbs and it glows from my core. It’s something I discovered a few days ago.”

Jake shook his head in disbelief. He knew there was something special about his best friend, but this was magical. “What else can you do?”

Camille lifted her hands, palms up, and closed her eyes. A flame no bigger than a tennis ball erupted from her palms. She opened her eyes and smiled widely. The flames danced in her hands. She felt powerful. Once she closed her hand into a fist, the fire disappeared.

“So are you some kind of witch now? You should put a spell on Jake Gyllenhaal to fall in love with me. We’d be the cutest couple and have our own TV show called ‘The Jakes.’ I can see it now.” Jake gazed at nothing as he fantasized about what powers Camille might have.

“Slow down, Romeo,” Camille replied. “All I can do is blast light or create fire. I’m not Cupid.”

Jake frowned. “I guess that’s cool,” he said  playfully. “So what’s the plan for tonight? Hang out at the mall? Go to the movies? Start a forest fire?”

Camille laughed. “Well, I do want to see that new movie with Kirsten Stewart in it. Twilight?”

“Nooooo, don’t tell me you’re one of those pathetic 23 year old vampire fanatics. I can see it now: girl falls in love with vampire, then burns him with her hands. Snore!”

“Come on, Jake. You know I only want to go so that I can…write a review on my blog about how stupid it is?” Camille smiled and put her hands together, as if to beg Jake to tag along.

“Fine, I’ll go, but you’re buying the popcorn!”

“Deal,” Camille replied.

When they arrived at the movie theater, there were barely any cars in the parking lot. “Well this seems odd for a Friday night,” Camille said.

“Duh,” Jake replied. “That’s because everyone is out partying, not going to the movies.”

“Who’s partying at 6:58pm? This is prime movie going time. Maybe it’s a good thing nobody is here though because that means there won’t be a crap ton of people in the theater.”

Jake rolled his eyes. “There was never going to be a crap ton of people going to see Twilight, sweetie. What time does the movie start again?”

“7:05pm. I’ll get the tickets and you get the popcorn,” Camille said.

“Um, no. Give me the cash for your ticket and our popcorn. I want to miss as much of this movie as possible.”

Camille grabbed a $20 bill from her purse and handed it to Jake. “I’ll get our seats. Hopefully I can find good ones!”

Jake looked around the nearly empty parking lot. “I’m sure it’ll be so tough.” They laughed and walked their separate ways.

“Two adults for Twilight, please,” said Jake.

“That’ll be $16. Good thing you came when you did. We’re almost sold out for that showing,” the clerk said.

“You have to be kidding me. Not that many cars are in the parking lot.”

“There’s been groups of teenage girls filtering into that movie since 6pm. We had to open the screening room early because a line was forming. I hope you get the seats you want.”

“Thanks, man.” Jake walked away and stood in the short concession line. He took his phone out of his pocket and saw that he had a text from Camille.

SO many tweens.

Jake laughed and wrote back:

Burn them all. Let God sort ’em out.

Camille received Jake’s text and laughed. She had managed to find relatively good seats on the fourth row, near the middle. Of course she and Jake would be squished between girls no older than the age of 13, but at least they’d be able to see shirtless vampires. Camille began scrolling through MySpace when a few kernels of popcorn landed on her phone. She looked up, expecting to see Jake, but saw no one. A few girls behind her snickered. She ignored them and continued looking at her phone.

“Hey, so did I miss anything yet?” Jake sat next to Camille and handed her the popcorn.

“Nope, just a few previews.” Camille felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around to see a girl who dressed like she was 21, but looked like she was 12. “Can you please stop talking?” She said innocently. Camille gave an embarrassed smile and nodded her head. She turned back to Jake who was eyeing the little girl.

“Well that was rude,” he said. At that moment, popcorn hit Jake on his cheek. He quickly swiveled his head around. The girls sitting behind he and Camille pretended they were looking at the screen the whole time, but had huge smiles on their faces. Jake turned back to face the screen.

The movie started and people in the theater began clapping. Camille started to feel like coming here wasn’t the best idea. Something didn’t feel right. Jake grabbed a handful of popcorn from Camille’s lap. Something crunchy moved around in his mouth. Astonished, Jake spit the food into his hand. What looked like a small roach was crushed in his popcorn.

“What the fuck!” Jake yelled and stood up, throwing his chewed, and untouched, popcorn on the floor.

Camille, confused by all the commotion, asked, “What’s wrong?” Jake threw Camille’s popcorn on the ground.

“Bugs,” he shouted. The girls next to him started screaming. A wave of “Oh my gosh” and “What the hell” erupted in the theater. Chaos was happening because of Jake’s outburst. Suddenly, the girls behind Camille threw their popcorn on her. “Bugs,” one of the girls said, mimicking Jake’s voice.

Jake turned around and said, “Excuse you! I’ve had enough of y’all. I’m talking to the manager. Camille, I’ll be right back. Don’t touch that popcorn!” He stormed out of the theater and everything calmed down. Camille brushed the popcorn off herself and started to follow Jake until she heard the 21 year old wannabe say, “Dumb bitch. She’s way too old for this movie.” Her friends laughed.

Camille’s patience was thinning at a rapid rate. She turned to face the girls. “Do you have a problem, little girl?”

The little girl looked at her and rolled her eyes. Camille, engulfed with fury, thrust her hand, palms open, toward the little girl. Light blinded the child and her surrounding friends.

“Ma’am, is there a problem,” a voice said behind her. Camille closed her eyes and screams erupted from in front of her. Heat vibrated near her. She opened her eyes and the girls that she was facing were now covered in flames, screaming and trying to run away.

“What the hell, Camille,” Jake yelled. Everyone in the theater began stampeding towards the exits. Camille faced Jake to tell him sorry, but she didn’t close her fists, which continued to send out flames. Her best friend caught on fire, screaming in agony. All hell broke lose. She closed her hands to make a fist, but a fire ball circle around them. She couldn’t control the power. She opened her hands again and fire shot to the ceiling, submerging the whole theater in flames.

Camille stood in place, dumbfounded. “What have I done,” she cried.

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Poem #1

Today, I am fat.
It’s not anything new because I’ve been this way
As long as I can remember
And it always bothered me,
But not as much as today.
Today my bulges stick out a little further,
My stomach portrudes over my “fat shorts,”
And my jowls look chunkier,
Flapping over my almost invisible neck.
Today my breasts are saggy with age,
My butt round (in a bad way),
And my demeanor pitiful
Because today I weighed myself
For the first time in over a year.
Maybe I should’ve known how much I
Gained
When shirts fit a little tighter,
Or when they began to fit A LOT TIGHTER;
Maybe I should’ve known how much I
Gained
When my pants refused to slip
Over my jumbo thighs
Or when the leggings kept getting holes
In
The
Same
Place
(My inner thigh, of course).
Either way, what I needed
More than anything
Was to feel the opposite of pitiful.
Fierce was my middle name
A few years ago,
Back when I probably shouldn’t have had
THAT
Much confidence.
The years freely rolled on
And the rolls on my back increased,
But you made me believe I was nothing less than
Beautiful all these years,
Until now.
Right now, I feel ugly.
I’m the hideous creature lurking in the shadows,
Grasping to the skinny figure
Hiding under all my fat
And maybe that’s why I feel this way.
I want to yell,
“Hug me, damn it!
I need you so bad right now,”
But I can’t.
I need you to love me now
And tell me I’m the
Perfectly Imperfect
Love of your life
Because, darling, I’m falling apart.
I’m 10 seconds from giving up
And 20 seconds from spewing tears,
And maybe 30 seconds from
Eating a cheeseburger.
It’s not your fault I feel this way,
If anything it’s your fault for
Making me so damn happy all the time.
We happily eat meals together,
Gaining
All the happy calories and fat
Gaining
All the weight on my body now,
Gaining
The lack of courage or confidence
That I now have
Because I can no longer say no to food.
I just don’t feel happy with myself,
But I’m trying.
And I have to try because
Today, I am fat.

Some parts are true, some parts are not. Meh. Summer time again which means more writing!!!

Story #40

“I had quite the party life when I was your age,” Lucille told Hannah while sipping a hot cup of lemon tea.

“Really, grandma? You never talked about it in the past,” Hannah retorted.

“In the past, you were too young to hear my stories, darling. How old are you again: 25, 26…?” Lucille’s voice trailed off as she froze, lost in her own thoughts.

“I’m 27 now, grandma. Are you okay?” Hannah placed a loving hand on her grandma’s shoulder, a concerned look painting her worn out face.

Lucille snapped out of her trance and pet her granddaughter’s hand. “I’m fine, darling. So 27! That’s a great age. When I was 27, I was bouncing in and out of nightclubs with my friends. Oh we had the best time! My signature drink was basically anything with tequila. Back then I had no limitations or obligations. I was just free to live.” Lucille shook her head and stared at Hannah. “Hannah, I’m worried about you.”

Hannah quizzically stared at Lucille, then chuckled. “Why are you worried about me? My life is wonderful. I have a stable relationship, a career, and on the way to buying a new house with the love of my life. I’m great.” She gave a faint smile that said otherwise.

“I don’t want you to have the life I lived,” Lucille said.

“But I’m not. My life sounds like the complete opposite of yours at 27! I rarely, if ever, go out. I have too much to do. It’s not easy being this amazing AND this young in 2090.” Hannah grinned at Lucille. “You should be proud of me.”

Lucille scrunched up her face. “Of course I’m proud of you! And I meant that I want you to have at least a glimpse of the life I had. It was so much fun! You look exhausted, darling. You deserve a dose or two of fun, doctor’s orders.”

Hannah looked up at the giant clock across the room. “I’m having fun being successful, but on that note, I have to go. I have an appointment at…”

“Just leave,” Lucille interjected. She turned her head and looked out into the garden, which was projected on a giant screen that had the word tranquility written in black cursive towards the top of the screen, or “sky”.

Hannah robotically stood up and hugged Lucille, who did not reciprocate the gesture. “I love you,  grandma. Tell me some stories the next time I visit, okay? See you in a couple of days.” She bent down and kissed Lucille on the cheek.

Once Hannah was out of sight, Lucille blinked away a few tears. She thought about how her life really was at 27 and how it actually changed her. She also had a career, along with a flame of a relationship that dimmed her shine. Her granddaughter’s life was a splitting image of hers, and that made her feel sorry for Hannah. She was anxious to see Hannah blossom the way she didn’t have the courage to at her age. At Hannah’s age, she felt trapped. There were endless limitations and infinite obligations.

A nurse suddenly appeared in front of Lucille.”Ms. Lucille, it’s time for your medicine. Look into the light.” Lucille did as instructed, not even blinking when the blinding flash illumimated the room. After a few minutes, her eyes adjusted and everything looked bright again. “How do you feel,” the nurse asked.

“Like I’m 27 again,” Lucille replied, allowing a single tear to fall from one of her eyes.

Only a month of school left. I shall write more stories on the regular again pretty soon.

Story #39

“Why do we kill ourselves for love,” Ashley asked.

Jennifer, her best friend, shrugged and continued stuffing her mouth with kung pao chicken. “All I know is that I’m in love with this Chinese food, dude.”

“Seriously, though! I didn’t even realize until 4 years into my last relationship that I was dying. I was LITERALLY dying,” Ashley exclaimed.

“Come on, Ash. You knew what was coming when you signed up for a relationship. I, on the other hand, avoid thos with a 9 foot pole.” Jennifer burped and rubbed her belly. “That hit the spot.”

Jennifer was painstakingly gorgeous. She was a bit of a slob, but she could have any person she wanted if she signed up for a relationship. Ashley was opposite though.

Fortunately, thanks to new laws and changes within society, you could now sign up to be in a relationship. A company called Life Partners set you up with someone of similar interests and you both signed a contract stating that you would be devoted to your life partner. There was a catch though: you and your partner would also die together and at a faster rate than normal.

“I realized that I don’t even miss Brock. He was handsome and sweet, but also really boring. Also, a bit daft. We were going to die together! Can you imagine dying with someone who makes paint drying seem like a sport?!”

Jennifer nearly spit out her drink from laughing so hard. “The good news is you’re out of that awful contract now.”

Ashley gave a nervous laugh. “Haha, yeah.” She stuck her hand out to grab her drink, and noticed the aging spots on her hand. “Oh, no! Not much time left, now,” Ashley thought to herself.

Story #38

Ellen stared at him as a he stared at his phone. They had been up for awhile, but barely spoken. Michael barely moved a muscle. His eyes focused on the small, lit screen. Five minutes passed before he even noticed Ellen staring at him.

“Are you okay? You look upset,” Michael said, trying to keep his voice even. He already knew what was wrong.

“I do? Nope, I’m fine.” Ellen turned to face the wall.

Michael replied, “Okay,” and went back to whatever was grabbing his attention on his cell phone.

Ellen sighed. Her body language screamed, “OBVIOUSLY SOMETHING IS WRONG AND I WANT YOU TO CONSOLE ME,” but she said nothing.

Warm, salty tears began to stream down Ellen’s cheeks. Before she knew it, she began shaking with uncontrollable anger. Michael sighed, set down his phone, and leaned over to hug Ellen.

“Don’t touch me,” Ellen yelled between sobs.

Michael asked, “What’s happening right now?”

In a matter of seconds, Ellen leaped from the bed and ran out the room. Michael chased her and found her sitting down, frantically stabbing her arms, nearly carving most of the skin off of one of them. Blood splatters covered the kitchen floor. 

“What the fuck?” Michael raced to Ellen’s side to grab the knife from her sweaty palms. She looked up and smiled. Black mass covered her eye sockets. She began laughing like a wild woman. Michael slowly backed up. “This isn’t funny, Ellen. Please stop!”

Ellen stopped laughing and dropped the knife. It looked as if she stood up amd levitated towards Michael.

“You’re pathetic,” the deep voice said. It was no longer Ellen. “You look at your stupid fucking phone all day. You ignore her, and stare at your shitty devices. How do you think she feels, Michael? Hmmm?” The voice coming from Ellen sounded demonic. Ellen began laughing again and grabbed Michael’s neck and squeezed. Michael, thrown off by her sudden strength, clawed at her bloody arms and hands.

“I’m…so…sorry,” Michael managed to say.

Ellen immediately let him go. She tumbled to the floor and gasped for air. She looked down to see blood streaks covering her arms. With desperation in her voice, she asked, “What did you do to me?”
The end. Lesson learned.

Valentine’s Day (Story #37)

“Table for two,” squealed the tiny 12 year old as her boyfriend squeezed her sides.

The concierge threw on her best I’m single and working on the worst day of the year face while grabbing two red, heart shaped menus.

“Fuck this,” I thought as I casually turned and walked towards my car. To be fair, the children were probably in their early 20s, believed that they were madly in love, and didn’t even pay their own cell phone bills. I’m not bitter though.

The closer I got to my car, the more I noticed that I was the only single female in that whole damn parking lot. Are you kidding me? Even the nerdiest of couples were walking hand in hand, absolutely love struck. My brain hadn’t even connected that today was Valentine’s Day even though Google was filled with pink and red hearts. I was off of work today so I missed the older women acting like middle schoolers, flaunting their gigantic teddy bears and shitty Whitman’s candy box bullshit. Maybe I should’ve known it was Valentine’s Day when I saw the ugly, obviously male written, paint on someone’s car windshield that read, “Marry me?” Or maybe I should’ve known when there seemed to be a billion people holding giant bouquets of overpriced roses. I swear, I’m not bitter.

Either way, I started my car and powered up the radio, only to hear, “What’s Love Got to do With It.” The DJ who decided to play that was probably cheated on by their significant other. I laughed at the thought. The streets were mainly empty. I suppose everyone was either eating out or eating in, but I was starving and didn’t want to cook. I decided to drive to the nearest diner.

The windows had leftover Christmas lights loosely strung around the border. It looked as if the diner was halfway empty. “My kind of place,” I thought. The bell rang when I pushed the door open, signaling a waitress with dark red lipstick to look up. This woman had to have been in her late 60s. Her caked on eye shadow melted into the deep creases of her eyelids. The dark, crusty lipstick sat on her thin, wrinkly lips. “Just one, doll,” she inquired, nearly suffocating me with the smell of old cigarettes. I nodded my head and she motioned for me to follow her to the table.

I sat at the table and waited for my server. When I looked around, most of the other patrons were single. They all seemed very content, but they were also all much older than me. Cigarette scent Sally shuffled back to my table. “Here’s some coffee, doll. It helps with broken hearts.” She gave a sympathetic smile and walked away. Do I just look miserable or something? Honestly, I was just super hangry. Nearly every restaurant in town had an hour wait if you didn’t reserve your space. Even McDonald’s was packed! My waitress could’ve given me a Snickers and I would’ve devoured that shit in seconds. Love was not on the brain; just food.

After an hour, I was happy, full, and on my way home. I felt fantastic. My cat, Hero, brushed against my leg when I opened the door to my house. “Hey, bud,” I cooed as I scratched behind his ears. The evening was coming to an end and I had work the next day. Hero curled up beside me in bed and purred while I stroked his back. “Who the hell proposes via car windshield? What a loser,” I said to my empty bedroom. I laughed until my stomach hurt and fell soundly asleep. Valentine’s Day was just that…a day.

 

Story #36

He gently slid his rough, masculine hand down the same face that he punched the night before. The same mouth that constantly belittled Joy kissed the old bruises on her neck.

“We can finally become a real family,” he whispered, rubbing his hand on her belly. 

A few days ago, Joy had found out that she was pregnant. Her heart had sank and she planned on taking care of it…but there wasn’t any place to hide the test or the wrapper. She had stuffed them both under tissue in the bathroom trashcan, the only place she could think of. When Ben had come home from the bar that evening, he stumbled over the trashcan in the bathroom. His blurred vision focused on a plastic unlike the tissue around it. There, in the pile of desperate hope, laid the wrapper and the test. His eyes lit up.
Unfortunately, his happiness had faded as quick as his anger had rushed in. “JOY!” The woman, trembling with fear, ran into the bathroom. “Yes, honey,” she asked. “Pick this shit up. All of it.” Without a second thought she dove to the ground, frantically picking up the tissue. Her thin, shaky hands threw the tissue, wrapper, and test in the trashcan. “Is it mine,” his slurred voice asked. She nodded and he grabbed her, whisking her off her feet. She flinched and nearly collapsed back to the floor. He had kissed her and said, “I’m going to be a daddy. I love you.” Instantly, she had cried, knowing that it was too late to take care of business. The rest of the night was peaceful.

Ben had a short temper, but anyone that knew him thought that he was an angel. He even fooled Joy sometimes. It was only 3 days after he found out about the pregnancy, that he hit Joy again. She was convinced that things would change with him because it had been so long since he hurt her. She was wrong. The mistake this time was serving him cold dinner.

He touched the chicken on the plate. “What the hell is this,” he inquired in the softest tone Joy had ever heard.

“It’s chicken, babe. I made your favorite.” Joy smiled lovingly.

“HOT chicken is my favorite, not cold,” he replied. Ben calmly set down his fork and knife.

“Okay…I’ll heat it up for you.”

Joy stood up and just as she grabbed his plate, he stabbed her hand with the knife. Blood drained from her hand as she screamed. Ben started laughing.

“It’s just a little blood,” he chimed. Joy ran to the sink to run water over her hand. She continued to scream as large tears streamed down her face.

Ben stopped laughing. “Stop it, Joy. You’ll wake the neighbors.” Joy continued crying loudly. Ben stood up and yelled, “Stop crying!” Joy tried to suck in her breaths, but she couldn’t stop. Suddenly, Ben took two swift steps towards the sink and punched Joy in the face. “Snap out of it and stop crying,” his deep voice bellowed.

Joy fell back, stunned and terrified. She reflexively put one hand over her face and held the bloody one up as a shield. Ben stormed out the kitchen into the living room. “Clean that blood up and bring me a beer when you’re done,” he hissed.

The next day, Joy woke up to a room full of roses. At first she thought she had died and gone to Heaven. When she sat up, she saw Ben sitting on the small love seat next to the bed, scrolling through his phone. He looked up and smiled radiantly. “Good morning, mommy-to-be. I’ve been waiting for you to get up.” Joy slowly sat up, her face still sore from the blow. “What is all this,” she asked.

“A sneak peek to what I have in store for you today.” It was as if all memory of the prior evening had faded. He was absolutely insane. Joy mustered up a faint smile. “I’m so excited,” she said.

The day was a blur of dining out, going shopping, and getting a makeover. “My girl was robbed and beaten last night,” Ben told the cosmetologist. “So I wanted to spoil her and make her feel good again.” The cosmetologist beamed. “Well aren’t you lucky to have a boyfriend so sweet,” she asked while goving Joy a little squeeze on the shoulder. Joy looked at Ben and said, “So lucky.”

That evening Ben checked them into a fancy hotel. He placed the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the door handle. As soon as the door closed, he began kissing her. It took everything in Joy to stop herself from backing away from him. “I have one more surprise for you,” Ben whispered.

He got down on one knee and pulled out a small, black box. “Joy, will you do the honor of making me the luckiest man alive?”

Joy broke down. Angry tears streamed from her eyes and fell down her cheeks. She was mad, but more than anything, she was afraid. If she said no, what would he do to her? She shook her head yes and he slid the ring on her finger.

“We can finally become a real family.” Ben lovingly rubbed her belly. He hugged her tight, nearly squeezing the air from her lungs. She realized in that moment that she had made the biggest mistake of her life.