More Than Words

I found this image this morning while over on one of my go-to stock imagery sites. I stopped. Stared. And downloaded.

While tomorrow might have a Snarketing post waiting for you (and I’m not tooting my own horn by saying it’s a doozy), today, I’d like you to tell me a story.

On Monday, I’ll post MY story about this image. And I have a feeling it’ll be personal. You’re welcome to post stories up until next Thursday. I’ll then close the comments and put the best up for vote. You won’t be sorry you submitted one if you’re in the finals.

That’s all: spin your tale.

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Alysson
Alysson

Thanks, Megan. I'm glad you enjoyed it. :)

The Redhead
The Redhead

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand, that's it folks! Submissions are closed. Tune in Monday for the five finalists, selected by me and a handful of literate ferrets.

Renee
Renee

I can smell the oil...a greasy, coated smell lining my sinuses, and the metal is begging to be touched...it is hypnotic under my caress. Other scents begin to worm their way in under the grease, specifically the pungent scent of decaying leaves discarded by trees too tired and disinterested to hold them, so they collect against the windshield as if to remind me of the tired thoughts I cannot purge, refugees hanging onto my soul. They are thoughts that were once a whirlwind, but now only circle between my heart and my head like a lazy merry go round, abandoned to the grey of the day, and forfiting all romance. Decayed, tired...this is me. Discarded and isolated, no longer dramatic at 21, only silent. I don't ever remember ever feeling anything else...it seems I've always been locked in a box with only my thoughts. I manifest that now as I sit here, in this box. It will smell like the leaves...damp, decaying...soggy. I lift my gaze through the rain streaked glass; what a nice stand in for the tears I cannot cry, I muse, as I absent mindedly caress the metal. A sigh escapes me. I put down the gun and turn the key.

beckyholland
beckyholland

Last Friday, I got in the car for my 2 1/2 hour drive to my weekend retreat in Michigan. About 5 minutes after getting in the car, the apocalypse began… unbelievable winds and rains seemed to converge on my car from the 4 corners of the sky. I’m not actually sure the sky has corners, but it sounds better than just “Holy Shniznitz!!!”A normal person would have stopped the car and waited for the storm to pass before continuing on, but if you’ve been reading my blog, you’ve probably already deduced that while I may be many things… normal just isn’t one of them. Besides, I figured I could outrun the thing, or it would outrun me, either way, I would be fine…. right?!?Well, the storm decided that it would be fun to follow me the whole drive… like that poor kid in the cartoon with the dark rain cloud dumping on him wherever he goes… yeah… that was me. The storm hooked itself to my car and we were both in for a wild ride! There were trees falling across the road in front of me (not branches, mind you… entire trees), construction materials flying all over the place like bright orange confetti and lightning crashing within 100 yard of my car in all directions. It was like being in some warped video game that I could not afford to lose… swerve here, dodge there, duck quick… WAIT… my car can’t duck!!!Finally I made it to Michigan (apparently, I kick butt at driving games) just in time for the bonus round. “What could the bonus round possibly be?” you might be asking yourself. Why… a 10 foot wall of flames crossing the road, of course… what else?!?! A tree had fallen across some wires and was hanging precariously over the road, engulfed in flames, ready to snap at any time. The only options were to go back or attempt drive under the giant flaming foliage. Since I’m not completely insane (despite what you may be thinking at this point), I opted to double back, take another road and avoid the bonus round entirely. I made it safely to my destination after 3 hours of scary driving, only to learn that for those normal people (the ones who stayed in one place… likely the basement) the storm only lasted about 15-20 minutes total. Um… oops!I spent the weekend without power, except for the occasional fan and ability to flush the toilet provided by a small generator, and I managed to return home without incident. However, all week the storm clouds have been building, waiting, and occasionally storming… wreaking havoc with my internet, but holding back the good stuff. Wednesday night, I got in my car to drive my daughter (that's her in the picture) to cheerleading and the storm gods had their chance! We only got about 5 minutes away from home before the sky unleashed it’s fury on me yet again. This time there wasn’t as much wind, but there was flooding and tornado sirens going off in the midst of the “driving” rain (funny… that expression has a whole new meaning for me now). But, I managed to make it through level 2 of the stormy driving game and arrived home safely… again… only to find the power out… again. During this whole time, my internet has been sketchy at best, my blog disappeared entirely for several hours and I’ve been a little afraid to plug my PC into an electrical outlet for fear a storm surge will blow the whole setup. Yeah, the surge protector comes with a warranty and they might buy me a new computer, but will it re-enter the accounting, re-photograph my kids and re-write my blog?!?! I think not!!!So another week has gone by with me stuck in the hamster wheel… but this time I had to dodge lightning bolts while running, running, running. I’ve barely gotten anything done… unless you count my creating new sensless words to yell at the computer and honing my heroic driving abilities. Makes me kinda want to hide in a cave all of next week!(True story BTW... it's been a hell of a week!)

Laura Gajewski
Laura Gajewski

I love October. It's a "Remember the Titans" kind of day. There’s something about this old car and the crisp air that make me feel like I’m back in the ‘60s, ready to start a riot. To make a difference. To make history. You know that part of Virginia still feels that way in October? It’s like history, warm coffee and anticipation all shoved into my backpack. Making my chucks unable to stay still. They want to jump, dance or run. DO something. BE something. I’m too young to remember a time when people met on street corners, hung out at the barber or the diner and actually TALKED to each other face-to-face. When people didn’t wait hours in line for the newest phone or choose to sit ALONE at their computers to talk to people. I wonder what that’s like. What would high school be like without facebook or text messaging? I’ll never know but, I can dream.

Jsfolger
Jsfolger

Love this - it's one of those October kind of days today - keep writing

Laura Gajewski
Laura Gajewski

I love October. It's a "Remember the Titans" kind of day. This old car and the crisp air make me feel like I'm back there, in the '60s just waiting for a riot to break out. To stand up for my self. To make a difference, make history. You know that part of Virginia still feels that way in October? It feels like old books, warm coffee and anticipation all stuffed in my backpack. My chucks can't stay put and make me want to jump, dance, run - DO something. BE something. When people we're standing in line for hours for the newest phone or sitting at their computers ALONE to meet people. I'm too young to know any other kind of world, but I dream. For simplicity.

Cara Ellison Halbirt
Cara Ellison Halbirt

Finallyfinallyfinally. It’s all I can think over and over and over. I bite the inside of my lip to keep my mask from slipping. Inhaling deeply and exhaling through my nose helps keep the mask in place, too. Finally, I’d said it. Finally, he’d said: Fine. If you’re sure that’s what you want. Finally, I breathed: yes.This drive I’m not mad about the squirrel pawprints on my windshield. Today, I don’t see them as a reminder that my car is always the one on the driveway. (Apparently, the other Moms won’t notice or care about pine needles and yellow pollen. Clients, on the other hand…). Today, I see past them, through them. To the days of this mask crumbling and falling away. This stony mask I made of my pretty face to reassure that, yes, sugar, everything is fine. I. Am. Fine. Tomorrow, I get the car washed. Tomorrow, I hire a lawyer. Finallyfinallyfinally.

Sylvia
Sylvia

Well here it is. My very own car, or van if you want to be totally accurate about it. I really wanted a car, but daddy said it was going to be the van or nothing. And I don't want nothing any more, so I guess I'll take it. It's kinda dirty; the people who owned it didn't take good care of it. It's leaking oil and the tires are almost bald, but you can't beat free. Those leaves stuck under the wipers aren't from around here. Daddy said he had to go all the way across the county to get this van. My cousin Emmett drove him there, and they were gone a pretty long time. I was already asleep when daddy got back so this morning is the first time I get to see it. I'm not too crazy about the color, but I guess they'll be painting it anyway. And maybe Bobby at the tire shop in town can get us a good deal on some newer tires. Still used, just better than what's on there now. Daddy says there's a stereo but he hasn't figured out how to work it yet. Something about a code that has to be put in, but if anybody can make it work it'll be him. He deals with different cars all the time.The first thing we'll have to do though is to give it a good cleaning. That, and figure out what to do with the bodies.

Megan Carpenter
Megan Carpenter

Wow, this is amazing, I know I've had very similar thoughts, just never put into words. Well done!

Ryan
Ryan

Thanks. And all very much true. (guess that spoils the ending... I don't die)

Alysson
Alysson

I never imagined I'd be here. No one could see inside the dark, cold and lonely room I've been living in. I wouldn't let them. I couldn't. I loved him. I really loved him. And I believed that love would be enough. Last night my love for myself finally became stronger than my love for him. I'd allowed him to pull me under for the last time. I will no longer drown in his misery.It's as if I was standing on the bank of a raging river looking across to the other side toward everyone I love and everyone who loves me. As much as they might want to, they can't save me. I must save myself. Staring across, I caught a glimpse of myself…of the me I used to be. I was strong. I was independent. I was the one others relied on for advice and for a much needed dose of logic and reality. I was unwilling to settle or concede or succumb. What happened to her? Where did she go?Before I knew it, that person became a stranger to me and I became what I believed he needed. I lost myself. He became the center of my world and everything revolved around him. He took advantage of that. I allowed him to steal my life. Like an abductee without the will or strength to escape, I let him break me. So here I sit - emotionally battered and spiritually broken. And ready to take my life back.Some say leaving is the hardest part. That's not true. At least not for me. Leaving was easy. Learning to live again - that will be hard. Today I begin the journey back to myself. Today I look in the mirror no longer ashamed of the woman I've become. Today I start over. Today…today I remember what it feels like to live.

joeymcallister
joeymcallister

What a fucking nightmare. He doesn't get to just walk in and throw his money around like I'm a fucking whore that he can buy. I didn't come all the way out here into the middle of bumfuck nowhere just to have him follow me. And what's that about, anyway? What kind of shit punches someone in the face and then chases after her, all "Come back, I need you to come home"? For what? To punch in the face again? Jesus.I am not one of those women. I know those women. I come from a long line of those women, but I am not one of them.God damn it, he makes me angry. And if he bleeds out before they find him, then so be it.Are you listening to me? Hey, are you listening? I think I'm going to stop up here for gas and a coffee.

Jesse Lunsford
Jesse Lunsford

Alice could hear her own heartbeat as she sat in agonizing anticipation. She had been in this exact location for nearly seventeen hours and the tingling in her extremities was becoming unbearable. Devin was now within her sights, despite the thick film of grime on her own windshield and that of the window pane of the front door. The next few moments would not only define their relationship but also her life, depending on just how far she let an unfavorable reaction spin her out of control. Time crept and she could see the strength ripple through Devin's well defined forearms as he gripped the latch and pressed open the door with his shoulder. He refused to meet her gaze. Devin stalked toward the car without ever looking up at her. He reached her door, grasped the handle, and yanked the door open with ferociousness. She was certain; Devin didn't come to this encounter empty handed. Devin rapidly brought his hand up from out of sight and shoved it in her face. Alice was staring directly into her new iPhone 4. She would let him live.

Shannon W.
Shannon W.

I had sent him all my words, an advance party to prepare the way. Email warning shots. And text message tattoos. I had sent word bomb after word bomb, and driven through the night. I had stopped at the side of the road, rested my weary eyes and eased my weary body as best I could. I had telecommunicated all he should be prepared to see, and to witness, and to communicate in return. And I had ignored the known fact that his receptors had never really been keenly tuned, even when he had pretended to want to hear. I had ignored the warnings of the frosted trees, the sliding roads, the silent hills. My brown eyes were such flawed scopes of this reality, were so incapable of measuring the distance in any real terms. The shushing tires were accurate, the yearning was not. I had forgotten the un-crossable miles between my soft lips and his bunkered ears - the no-go-zones so extensive, the mine fields so copiously seeded. And now here I sat. Nail scrapes clearing my vision only slightly. Raising just enough fog to see what he had never had the ability or the willingness or the courage to say. Scales in front of my eyes falling away to reveal only a man-shaped hole where love and hope used to be. He didn’t move. And neither did I. We just sat, and stared until the openings I had create frosted over, and he was finally gone

Angel K
Angel K

Curious. What did google return?

The Redhead
The Redhead

Admittedly, I originally read this as "rabbit raccoon." I even googled it. Rabid. GOT IT. #imadumbass

SEOcopy
SEOcopy

The highway stretches before me unyieldingly melding into the hazy horizon as I press on the gas pedal persistently. I can feel myself beginning to slip into a slumber as the motor's hum stealthily steals me away into the fog that has wrapped itself tightly about me. I can do nothing, but be carried away. The humming of the windshield wipers mixed with the soft rain are now a distant memory but now those words I hear whispered by your lips pressed against my ear. The warmth of your breath flows into me becoming one with the beating of my heart. Weightless and balanced, I am floating on the energy you give as you move closer to my body. You seem a million miles away as I hold my breath waiting for you to touch me. . . caressing me only with those eyes whose image, colors, patterns and soul will always be inside me, forever.

Angel K
Angel K

Thanks Megan. I'm on a "be very, very concise" kick. Am just coming off of a 4 word resume bender so this was a perfect exercise in minimalism.

Megan Carpenter
Megan Carpenter

Wow, in five words you have me cracking up, I love it!

Angel K
Angel K

Rest in peace, rabid raccoon.

The Redhead
The Redhead

Everyone's doing a really bang-up job! Love it! Keep e'm coming :)

Sally G.
Sally G.

What fun! Thank you. Here goes ..."Grandma, what a riveting picture! Is that you in there?"The elderly woman smiled at her teen-aged granddaughter, grateful for moments like this when they shared and connected without texting and instant messaging. She looked back at the picture and wondered how to respond - I'm not actually in it, she thought, I AM it.I'm the reflection in the glass, a representation of what can be, life in action, all that's possible for those willing to venture out.I'm the clear streaks on the windshield, jolts of clarity in amongst life's mistings and splatters.I'm the autumn leaves in the wiper, fully lived, caught in time, accumulated collections of purpose fulfilled and graceful exits.I'm also the wiper, reluctant to let go of all that I was, still filled with the purpose of wiping life's spray when it clouds my vision or obscures my path.And I'm the beautiful young girl, frozen in time, still filled with hope, with longing, even a dream or two. My spirit has never felt the aging process as my body has. In this way, I'm eternally youthful in spite of evidence to the contrary.The elderly woman, eyes welling with tears, looked up at her grand-daughter ~ her beautiful grand-daughter, looking at her expectantly, with love, and patience. "Yes," she whispered, 'yes - that is me in there."

Suzy
Suzy

The back window of the old wagon was so dirty it made it hard to see her. And as we pulled down the road I watched her become smaller and smaller. I watched my best friend became a tiny speck that blurred through tears stinging my eyes until she was gone. It was in May of 1989 and the last day of my seventh grade year a mere two weeks away. No biggie for most kids, but for me it marked the completion of two full years at the same school. From the age of six we moved to a new town or state at least a couple times a year. When my stepfather didn’t receive a transfer after almost two years I thought I was finally home. No more packing, no more moving vans, no more good-byes. It was too good to be true. The news of the lay off came as such a shock to our family. For my parents there was only one option; to move back to Indiana. With the help and support of our extended family we could start a new life. For me there was only the reality that I had to leave all my friends behind. I had lost countless friends in the past, but that was different. I was 14 now and my feelings were real. Not like those of a little girl. For the first time in my life I had become part of a community and it didn’t even matter to them. How could they expect me to just go along merrily like it was some great adventure we were about to embark. The next two days were filled with good bye hugs and tears and exchanging addresses with a promise to keep in touch. Everything was so surreal I couldn’t believe it was really happening. It felt like a dream and I was Dorothy saying farewell to Oz. My best friend never left my side. I knew she was hurting too although she never showed it, always the strong one, even to the end.Soon after the move my parents divorced. I went on to make many new friendships and after finishing high school I began a family of my own. Sometimes when I feel like I’ll never find a home for myself I look back on that last move. I see that 14 year old girl staring out the back window of the old wagon. Can she see me? I want to take her up in my arms and tell her, promise her, no matter where that road leads us we’re gonna be alright.

Megan Carpenter
Megan Carpenter

I secretly loved days like this. I loved the cold air, the reddish gold leaves that crunched under my feet as I walked. It was a perfect fall day for me. At least it was perfect here, in this short moment.I had found the car after we had moved here, this dreary little town in northern Maine. I hated moving, hated leaving my friends, and everything I had ever known. Since I was only a teen, my opinion didn’t count. Money, opportunity, that’s what counted.The car was in the back of the garden, near the alley. It was nearly overgrown, with trees around it, and plants growing up to the door handles. I knew it would be towed eventually, my mother thought it was abominable, and my father thought it was junk. I thought it was a haven in a world that I knew nothing about.I didn’t know much about cars either, but I knew it was dry inside, and that it was there. Maybe someday I would try to figure out what was wrong with it, but for today I would simply enjoy it. The inside had a slightly musty odor, probably from sitting here abandoned for so long. The windows were so dirty you could barely see through them. I could hide here for hours, imagining another world. One where I could drive this old car, and go anywhere I wanted. One where I didn’t have to worry about new schools, or making new friends. A world where my parents weren’t already planning for my college, or my future. Sitting here in this old, beaten, slightly smelly car I could have the future I wanted.I sat, imagining this future and a half dozen others for hours, listening to the crickets chirping outside as darkness slowly moved in. Soon I would see the light come on in the backyard, and a flashlight soon after that. The lights would be accompanied by voices calling for me to come in, to come out of the darkness. Then I would have to return to their world, but for this moment, sitting here in this old battered junker, this was my world, and I would enjoy it for as long as I could.

ambercleveland
ambercleveland

I'm not getting out of the car because this is not happening. It's not possible he's gone, not possible he's dead. I loved him. How could this have happened? He was only 23. Maybe if I wish hard enough, sit here long enough, I can rewind time and I can save him. But I know I can't because death is final.Only two days ago I was at work when I got the message, "There's been a terrible tragedy, please call right away." I knew in my gut what they would say when I called, but then he answered the phone. "Eli!" I said as the breath whooshed out of my body, grateful."No, it's Everett.""What is going on? What's wrong?" I pleaded, silently praying with every fiber that I was wrong."He's dead."I made a strangled sound that sounded like it came from someone else. A co-worker heard and came to check on me. I scribbled a note to get my mom on the phone, my hands were shaking so bad that I was surprised she could read it.It really hadn't mattered what Everett said after that, nothing made sense anymore. Eli was smart, he was funny, I loved him, and he was gone...really gone. I really can't remember much after that, my mom came and she took me home.Eli's mom called. She explained what had happened and asked me to come to be with them, she comforted me, told me I would be alright. She asked...asked me to speak at the funeral today. How can I do that? I can't even get out of the car.

Joe Ray
Joe Ray

RaquelinaI met Raquelina a couple of years ago. She liked going by Rack (obvious reasons). We developed a friendship (she was a friend of a friend) but frankly she was boring because she always talked about herself. She’s a writer, a good one and I really liked her work but she would just go on and on and on...zzzzzzzzz. Very much an energy sapper too. Funny story she had told me (sad but funny)- one of her artist friends had an open marriage arrangement with new husband. They could screw whomever they chose to, etc. Well, he fell in love with someone, and that was that for her friend. So this friend runs off broken hearted and goes to SF to pursue her art full time and become an angry feminist bohemian. But it’s too competitive for good looking straight men in SF, so she’s basically been unhappy and somewhat unhinged there for the past few years; bad skin, eating disorders, etc. It’s a sad story but Rack told me this as she laughed, so of course I think of it as funny. But it’s not. Rack always wanted me to introduce her to my artist friends (she’s a groupie chick), single or “somewhat” married. She kept bugging the crap out of me because I wouldn’t. Too high maintenance and as I said, an energy sapper. However, she did/does enjoy her boy toys. I think she’s in her mid-forties but likes guys in their late 20s, the cougar thing. That’s fine but she complains about them being idiots and not having the mental capacity to engage her, etc. Whatever. I dreaded the thought of introducing her to any guy because she’d bug and bore the shit out of them then they’d be pissed at me. There are some people like her who are best avoided, she seems to like conflict too. Best avoided. Like tequila…I’m not a good drinker of that anyore. I used to be but not any more.I think her alter ego needed breaks from her, which is why she’s quiet these days. I think she’s depressed but she won’t admit it, and I’ve not the energy to ask. Sadly, neither does her only friend, the one who lives in San Francisco.

Shannon W.
Shannon W.

I've posted my first draft on my blog, to be mulled over and reconsidered ... I think. Thanks for the awesome prompt!

Deb Dobson
Deb Dobson

"The Drive of Life" - - Long ago as a kid, I couldn't wait to get out of the backseat and into the driver's seat of life. Please, please, please, let me take the wheel...let me steer this vehicle down the path. I wanted to have the control to make the decisions to turn left, turn right, go forward, backwards...or stop. So, when it was my chance I dove into the driver's seat, fastened the seat belt, hit the accelerator and flew headlong to my first obstacle. When I first took the driver's seat the windshield was sparkling clear, I could see everything, knew what was ahead, thought I knew what was coming...what did life teach me? Well, sometimes you run into a branch or two...perhaps a tree that blindsides you when you least expect it. Perhaps the car gets dinged, damaged, glass shattered, but you learn from the turn you took that maybe you shouldn't. The hitting the brake when you should have stepped on the gas. But, the important thing is to learn from it and keep going. Yes, the windshield might not look sparkling clear as you can tell, and the leaves may cling to the windshield wipers, but most important of all? Well, ya keep going.

Ken Brand
Ken Brand

We thought a few drinks wouldn't matter. We've done it lot's of time. We weren't very far away. Now, she's dead. I don't drink or get high anymore. When I see Cacie in my dreams, we cry and apologize to each other. It doesn't help much.

Stacey Hood
Stacey Hood

"Go on dear...you'll do fine." She pointed out that several of my friends were there already. I looked across the damp field and could see the usual suspects; Heather, Julia, Mary Catherine...they were all there. I wasn't sure if I could go back out there and play the same way I used to be able to play. A million thoughts going through my mind as the windshield wipers tried to clean off the last bit of a late afternoon storm. All I could think about was whether or not my leg would hold up or if I could even make it through one drill. My coach had been helpful and like everyone else, knew someone who had this horrible thing happen to them. Luckily, the doctors said, that they caught it in time; the little brown spot that grew and grew. Removing it removed a part of my arm also. The specialist believed in me, my mom believed me; my friends told me that they did also. I had all the support that someone could ever want, but who were they to know how much this little "spot removal" as I called it would have such an impact on someone as young as me. I mean, for fuck's sake, I'm 16. I have my whole life ahead of me, college, marriage, kids, a career. I hadn't have slept with a boy yet. Sure I've been rubbed on by Steven, but he acted as if I was a freak once he saw my arm and the scars that the surgery and treatment had left me. My hair had come back in a little darker than it was before, but I liked it that way. I guess like anything else, I could overcome this little bump today. The storm wasn't that bad, we waited it out in the car and the field was now a nice shade of mud and leafy brown. But Coach was out there, setting up cones, putting air in the balls she always brought to practices for the girls who forget to bring one. After staring at the site of this older woman setting up a field for practice as she'd done a million times before, the voice of my mother snapped me back to reality. "Come on, Amanda, get out of the car, we're going to start." She looked right at me with enthusiasm, encouragement and a sense of caring that no one else ever gave me, ever in my life. Not even my dad. But now that he was gone, it was just me and Mom. She walked up to the door window and knocked on the glass, "I’m not going to tell you again, get out here with the rest of the team!" "Yes Coach," I replied with a smile and pulled my socks up after jogging to join the team.

Mariano Franco
Mariano Franco

This here story is a mystery/thriller... Just met this woman, first date; Wednesday night. Met her at Nordstroms so she could tag along as I underwear & shoe shopped; told her if she behaved, she could pick out one of the pairs of both. Despite her horrid taste in both underwear & shoes our vibing was solid. Laughing, teasing, playful touching ensued. Sexual tension tighter than a snare drum. Total time we hung out was like, 2 hours. After coffee at the Nordstroms cafe, we said our goodbyes and all was silky smooth. Until... ...I got home and thought, "Hey, let me send her a follow up Facebook message saying how much I enjoyed our time together and how I looked forward to seeing her again." Here's the message... "Hey Daishiki, Tonight was um... magical, wonderful and delightful. I really, really, really like you. Do you like me? I hope so. Aren't you totally anticipating me tearing that ass up between the sheets? You would be the first woman this 29 year old man has ravished so you'll totally have to hand-hold me through the whole process. I learned how to program and build computers really fast so I trust I can learn how to ring your bells fast too. If you're not comfortable in your expertise, just let me know and before you come over to my moms house to pick me up, I'll take the bus over to Barnes & Noble & load up on Sexy Time Manuals. We can take our time and learn on the fly. Because I knew from your personal ad in the City Weekly that you would be the woman I would want to marry, I went out and got a tattoo to celebrate my undying devotion to you (rad pic posted below). {Due to my not being able to put a pic inside this post, a word picture will have to suffice: It's of two unicorns, one blue, the other white, with wings. The white one is getting pounded from behind by the blue one who has a lit cigarette dangling from his horsey teeth.} You can't see it, but below the tattoo, it says... "Daishiki & Mariano, togethurer forever." Idiot tattoo artist misspelled "Together" and I didn't know it until I got home and showed mom. I'm in the middle of writing a scathing note to him. Would complain to his face but I'm only on Lesson 2 of my Kung Fu training videos and I'm not sure I know enough yet to teach him a lesson if he tells me to go eff myself. But I learn fast so hey, judgment day may come sooner than later. Anyways, my snoopy brother's trying to steal a peek of what I'm writing here on the top bunk bed and it's time for me to clean my retainer and feed my fish so I'm going to say good night and maybe this is crazy but I'm also gonna go out on a limb and say... "I Love You." Do you love me too? Hope so. Mariano "Magic Juan" Franco ---------------------------------------------------- This was last Wednesday and she still hasn't called or written back. It seems like she's hit some stroke of bad luck because it seems like Facebook has shut her account down AND the phone company has disconnected her phone number. I hope my one chance at true love isn't ruined over the stupid heads at FB and Verizon messing up her accounts. I can't let Daishiki go at a time when it appears to me that she's met her soul mate. What if some over-bearing ex-boyfriend found out about us and is trying to sabotage our life? Should I forget about Sweet D (Stage Name, theater, I presume) & her six adorable kids from 7 dads... or should I just keep the hope alive that she'll find me some day? These are the thoughts that kept racing through my mind. And then, it happened. I'm walking across the street and look into the car just pulling up to the intersection and what do I see? SWEET D. And she's with some guy. I yell out, "OH. MY. GOD. HONEY, it's me, Mariano! Heavenly Father of the latter day saints has brought you back into my life!!!" This is when she gets a look of sheer, panicked, terror on her face. She goes flat. And white as Betty White. She's looking at me but talking. I can't hear anything she's saying because the windows are closed but I can only imagine, she's saying something like, "Jesus IS real. He has re-united me with my one true love. The man who promised me he would tear my ass up between the sheets." Well, obviously the guy with her must have been some jealous ex-boyfriend because next thing you know, dude puts the pedal to medal and SMASHES right into me flipping me up and over the car. Well, you know how some people say "Within every adversity, there's the seed of an equivalent or greater benefit." The seed of benefit paid off right here. You see, I'm kinda retarded or so people say, and this is where my "Retard Strength" must have kicked in and helped me almost completely shrug off being plowed into by an SUV. Yeah, my face got a little scraped when I face planted directly into the pavement, but everything else was just a little sore. And guess what? Mohamed was looking out for me. He put some kinda hex on the guy driving the car that made him plow right into a telephone pole and DIE on impact because from what eye witnesses say, they saw this maniac run me over, careen sharply left to avoid an on coming car and barrel directly into a telephone pole. All the while laughing and chomping on a corn dog. Upon the 35 mph impact, the driver was mid-bite and the corn dog stick was plunged into the man's mouth and lodged in the man's brain when his hand and face met with the air bag. Dead on arrival. Karma one, asshole zero. Being that the car wasn't traveling all that fast my smoospsy poo only ended up with minor whiplash. When I walked up and opened the door, she was kind of in shock at being only feet from the Douche ba..., I mean friend, all folded up dead. Well, of course I went in to give her kiss but she vehemently waived me off citing that no one should touch her but the paramedics. My baby is smart. I told her so, and said I was delighted beyond measure that the universe had brought us back together. She asked to "Shut Up" because my voice was grating on her "injured brain", not because she was being mean. I respected her wishes and just oogled her luscious melon breasts while waiting for the paramedics to show up, which they did, shortly. As we were both whisked away in separate vehicles I trusted that I'd be able to visit her in the hospital that day but it turns out that in her sheer brilliance she knew that her condition could be better treated at the hospital I wasn't going to and DEMANDED that the paramedics take her there. This left me back at square one. No way to get in touch with Sweet D. My soul was crushed into little bits as small as those crumbs on the bottom of a potato chip bag that had the watermelon roll onto it in the car. Well, it turns out the SUV that was used as a blunt trauma instrument was a company vehicle owned by a little bidniz named BP Oil. Conveniently while I lay in the hospital recovering from my sprained and slightly shattered pelvis, a lawyer by the name Saul just happened to be in the hospital and stop by my room to chat. He asked me what put me in the hospital and after I told him the story of my smoopsy poo being kidnapped, being runned over and being separated from my soul mate again, he told me that someone should be held accountable for all of this suffering imposed upon me. Saul said there was no dollar amount that could be placed on my "trampled retarded soul or body". He said there was only one way to make sure that these kidnapping assholes at BP Oil would never get away with a stunt like this again. Sue their ass. I told him I didn't actually think it was BP's fault but he told me that I was wrong. He said their faulty hiring process and management led to this wild animal being placed behind the wheel of a death machine, a death machine that kills more people every year than "the dope, a.k.a drugs" do. I couldn't argue with that kinda logic and neither could the jury. And the Buddha came to my rescue again because this law suit got all kinds of press coverage which made it easy for Sweet D to find me. When we saw each other again during the trial she threw herself onto me and smothered me with kisses. BP settled for what Saul said would be enough money to last me a lifetime which I'm guessing is a lot. I don't know how much it was because I just put all the settlement in the name of my bride to be, the woman of dreams, Daishiki. It was explained to me that with my being kinda retarded and all, this would be for the best. She bought us a REALLY nice home. It's so nice in fact that it's got two homes on the property. I and Daishiki stay in what's referred to as the guest home and other home, Daishiki turned into her office. She and her kids work a lot and entertain clients all the time at her office. She ends up sleeping at the office pretty much every night of the week and I don't mind because I don't want to interfere with her career and I've never really been all that comfortable around "business people". "Business travel" also keeps her away most of the year which can put a strain on a relationship but once again, I fully support her in her pursuit of her dream to be a dancer/actress/singer. She has to rehearse a lot at home so there's always male co-star's coming over. When I first heard sounds like shrieking, moaning, and furniture moving around, coming from the office, I got kinda nervous. When I called and asked her assistant what was going on, she said that Sweet D and her co-stars where working on a "wrestling" scene, which totally explained everything. She was inspired by Hillary Swank's performance in "Million Dollar Baby" and wants to break into show biz and start out being type cast as "Ultra-Athletic Chick" and move on from there. Well, I guess the good guys do win after all, eh. I get to be married to a super hot, super caring woman and live in a really cool bedroom and Mr. corn dog munchin' BP Oil muthafucka gets to be dead. The universe works in mysterious yet awesome ways wouldn't you say?

Amber
Amber

A place to sleep. Somewhere warm and dry. Days had turned into weeks, weeks into months. The dust was everywhere. Dust of a life I fled. The streets aren't as cold and lonely as every one says they are. There's a strange camaraderie among the homeless. But at night, 3:00 in the morning, the witching hour, it gets cold. It gets scary. For a girl on her own. A girl who refuses to sell her body, to sell her soul just for a bite. But I'll sacrifice some dignity. The car is a heap. Rust on wheels, Decorated with droppings and dirt. It's abandoned, one door permanently askew. And this is a bad part of town. This time of night there isn't really a GOOD part of town. I'll just climb inside. I wish I could will it to run. To take me away from hunger and cold. I wish I could will flat bald tires to turn, to ride the curving gleaming pavement into a world that welcomes me with open arms instead of walking past my outstretched hand. In a hurry, like they've got someplace better to go.The seat is barely there, worn and scratchy against me. But it's dry. It's warm. And it's full of dreams. Like me, someone once loved this car. And tonight? I'll love it too.

Ryan
Ryan

10 years and 3 months ago I did the last line of cocaine in my life. 6 years prior to that was the promise of a fun night and an expectation that I could forget my problems. I was in college, had no real responsibility, a lot of weight from the death of a close friend, and a family that was too spread out. That night was everything I thought it would be and even the first couple of years were good... stay up all night, drink lots, laugh, party and solve the world's problems. The later years were a left turn over the tracks and a drive through the shitty part of town. The nights got shorter and the days turned into 72+ hour, sleep when you're dead, craziness. No pill was too much and no party was too far. "More" quickly turned into "Not Enough". For those that don't have the experience with this, it's a feeling of total helplessness. The cocaine starts to change the way you think, the way you act, the things you value... and you never even know it.In moments when you sober up, you start slipping in and out of feeling like your life is empty and you need to change, but your brain won't let you get out. Those last few months of life on drugs were the lowest of the low... surviving on credit cards and my job may as well just paid me in cocaine since that what it was all going to. I spent many mornings watching the sun rise, usually driving somewhere to get more. Trust me... the only people that are up selling drugs at 7am on a Tuesday, are pretty fucking nasty. When I see this picture, that's what I think of... sitting in my car at 7am, looking out into the world with a empty stare. I can't see the Truth of what is really going on because the windshield has a haze of lies covering it. On the corner, my true friends are watching me stare out, but all they can make out is part of what used to be me. The rest of the car is unkept and covered in dust and dirt, like my life. They wonder where I'm going, but doubt they'll ever see me again.10 years and 3 months ago I did the last line of cocaine in my life.

Joanie
Joanie

For the first time in my life I’ve had to seriously ask myself if I believe in heaven. On June 1, 2010 my grandpa, Henry, died. The funeral was a dragged-out, two week long process. No one wanted to let him go. I’ve been devastated. My grandpa is the first death of a loved one I’ve had to experience. I’m 25. I’ve had a good run. I stare at the ground and nod my head when people pat my back and tell me he’s in a better place. The thought that it’s possible there is no better place is too much for me to address. When we sat around his hospital bed and watched the doctors take out everything that was keeping him alive, his vital signs ran downhill so quickly they were hard to follow. Within minutes, he drew his tiny last breath and that was the end. I wanted to feel a religious calm that my beloved grandfather was now with God. That didn’t happen. I’ll wait as long as I have to to feel something—that good old-fashioned feeling that angels walk among us and our souls never die. I can’t get out of the car knowing that the other option might be true.

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  2. […] Redheaded Fury Yeah, yeah. You’ve been waiting to hear about the finalists selection in the More Than Words photo prompt un-contest. God know what you’re competing since I haven’t told you what […]

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