I’m recovering from a round of food poisoning, and making plans for the month. I found the perfect material and started sketching ideas for a new dress
I’ll update as I go, but the priority will be writing more.
New Project
A Simple Tune
It started as a simple tune
A verse hummed around a fire
It travelled with its owner
Until it met a liar
The man took it as his own
And dressed it with his words
It travelled now on velvet voice
And they went across the world
Fame and wealth soon followed
For a tune no one could mimic
But the liar now twisted words
The tune strung by the lyrics
Twisted between poetry to attract
And lies meant to beguile
From his throat the tune refused to rise
But choked him on his bile
Two Sentence Stories (part 19)
Capgras syndrome, Dr Miller told me, was responsible for my conviction that people in my life had been replaced by copies. He claimed he told me that last session, but that Dr Miller has a mole on his other hand.
The housewife held the door open as smiling man entered to demonstrate his new cleaning solution. He endorsed the product, having seen how easily it removed the bloodstains left by its original salesman so recently from his own carpet.
While watching TV, the couple were interrupted by a child’s voice requesting a glass of water be brought upstairs. Approaching the front door, the childless couple froze when the same voice asked them to come outside.
Updates and Promises
Starting tomorrow I’ll take up daily writing for October.
It’s been busy since my last post. I’ve had two weddings (same spouse, different hemispheres). I’ve moved into our first home. I’ve experienced unquantifiable loss from the death of a loved one.
I intend to write again. I can’t promise quality, but I can promise consistency.
See you tomorrow
Fresh Cut Grass
It’s been a while, but I did work on another GIF at long last.
Mr Smiles
Much, much easier without eyes
Cat
I’m out playing boardgames after midnight like a cool person.
Enjoy Jinny
The Perfect Day
It had been the perfect day.
Her white dress was immaculately pressed and fit perfectly. Her hair and makeup were exactly as she had envisioned. The cars were on time and her bridal party followed their steps precisely as she had instructed.
The groom as well-dressed in the suit she had selected, and he repeated the vows she had chosen. She was proud to be his wife and as they travelled to the reception venue, she thought that everything would go just as smoothly as the ceremony.
Everything went according to plan, right up until the cake cutting. She had told him she would not abide him trying to shove cake into her face. He had told her he understood. He had promised he would not. But in that moment, egged on by relatives, he dabbed it on her nose.
It had been the perfect day until that moment. Ever the perfect bride, she had laughed and excused herself to clean up.
Later that night, in their honeymoon suite, she used strips torn from her once-pristine dress to wipe up the mess. Their honeymoon luggage was now packed full to bursting, its original contents placed in the rubbish bags the concierge had brought up. She hoped that the bags lining the inside of the luggage would not leak. Blood was so hard to clean.
She had been so close this time. She was certain that the next time it would be perfect.
A Further Excuse
I’m preparing my taxes. That’s enough horror for one night.
A Good Neighbour
Bill has always been an excellent neighbour. He kept to himself mostly, but he would give you the shirt off his back if he thought it would make you happy.
It was odd, Steve supposed, that he still lived alone. It was a big house, so he must be doing well at his job. Something in finance, Bill would murmur if asked. He was also handsome by any standards, although his smile always seemed a bit forced.
Still, it was surprising when the police came by. They asked Steve if he had noticed any odd behaviour, or if he could recall any large garden projects Bill had been working on. They wouldn’t explain what they were looking for, but Steve had seen enough TV to have a suspicion. He told them that he wasn’t aware of anything.
That afternoon, Steve stared from the kitchen window at the garden shed his friendly neighbour had helped build months back. Bill had insisted on pouring the concrete for the base and was even willing to pay for the supplies, as he “could use the practice for later”. Due to his odd working hours he had worked on it at night, so Steve did not need to help.
The amount of dirt left displaced had seemed a little much, he had thought. Still, it would be a shame to ruin such good work. Plus, Steve had kept the bloodied earring he had found in the dirt pile, just in case Bill wouldn’t agree to help build the pool he was planning.
Sketched Text 