My diary

Mr. Fluser says he doesn’t like me writing in my diary while I’m supposed to be working.  He’s the one who said I had to be here anyway and really I would be at home watching tv if we had it anymore.  He said if everyone has a job and felt like contributing then it would help and we wouldn’t give up.  What I don’t understand is his wife is the one not really doing anything anyways and just sits around in their big ol house with the skylights reading her fucking books all day and acting crazy.  I fell bad for her sometimes but then I think about Mr. Fluser always trying to tell me what to do and I don’t so much.  He thinks since I’m seventeen and it’s just me and Sally he can tell me what to do.  I’m going to steal his gun.

 

All I do is count these granola bars all day and organize everything and I think we should be able to leave the 10 lanes.  Flus says it would be so dangerous and some people tried and said they were coming back and never came back.  Like my brothers.  When I asked him about the big storm and what if another one comes bc the weather’s been weird he ignored me.  Fucking ignored me, like a kid.  I’m going to get him back.  Sally just sits here and watching me.  I got her all the dolls and stuff from the empty houses down the street but she only plays with them sometimes and when she does its really sad to watch.  She doesn’t smile and takes the games very seriously and I try to make her laugh sometimes.  When she does it is beautiful and that makes me happy when we sleep at night together under the blankets and look through the upstairs window at the stars and listen to the quiet quiet streets.

 

I wonder if the virus did something to her brain.  Like it did to Mrs. Fluser’s.  Maybe.  Or maybe Mrs. Douchebag just couldn’t handle the pressure.  She seems ok, like when I give her the extra granola or the food I found in the cellar or the stuff I stole from Phil’s car.  She doesn’t throw up or anything and when she goes back to playing house or tea or changing the baby she doesn’t jerk or tweak or anything.  One time I did walk in on her in Jeremy’s room though.  She was under the bed with all the teacups arranged around the perimeter of bed and the big floppy bunny dog thing was sitting on top of it. The covers were all tucked in and neat and it was dead in the center, staring at me when I walked in, propped up.  I didn’t know she was under the bed yet and I saw the teacups and stuff so I bent over and started picking them up and her hand jerked out from under and grabbed my wrist.  I was so scared.  Then I realized it was her and kneeled down to look under there and she was just lying there on her back staring up at the underside of the mattress.  I was like Sally Sally but when she finally turned her head to look at me she was blank.  I said hey you wanna eat some more food i got a lot and she nodded.  We ate on the roof that night and watched the other houses.

 

I keep stealing candles.  I know we’re not supposed to but I think everybody’s doing it.  There are so many houses and we haven’t gotten to them all yet.  Things finally calmed down and now “We got work to do guys” Mr Fluser Johnson and Williamson said.  Who put them in charge.  I know I sound like a kid when I say that but seriously, no one put them in charge.  I have to figure out a way to get a gun without seeming like the one and to get out of here and also neutralize Phil.  It will happen.

Mercival and What I said. (4 minutes to read)

“What if he gets bored with me? I don’t know how… but what if he does?”

“What do you mean?”

“What I said.”

“Well, I mean, so what? What if he does… that happens you know.”

Mercival bit her lip. “Yeah but I don’t want it to happen–“

“Shit Mercival, just put it in his program, damn.  Stop making it so difficult.”

“But I don’t wanna put it in his program. I want him to really like me, want me, fall for me hard, over and over and lickings and rubbing  and oh my god have you seen him?”

Pholf looked over at Mercival’s sea.  He didn’t understand why her tub was full of the best sea, but he decided to ignore that for now.

“Where’d you get that ocean?” Pholf kept at his work but eyed into her tub again.  “The data for that mountain?  I thought we all got like 50 to start.”

“You’re not looking.”

Pholf looked at her man.  He was still half-mesh­ poly (ultra).  Pholf noticed the flesh organ (bit skin?) as it folded down and disattached from his thigh.

“You need to fix that.”

Mercival slammed her fist into the sea.  Everyone shuddered.

(What was that?)

“Just look,” she said.

Pholf glanced at the face.  Shit.

He was beautiful.  Damn.

He looked back up at Mercival.  “Let me have one of your oceans.  I’ll give you some flakes.  A lot of them.”

Mercival ignored him.

“C’mon.  I need it.  Just look at me over here.”

She looked over at his tub and sighed.  More of the same.  Factories, skyscrapers, ton after mound of business suits, stacked.

“Why’d you have to make ‘em so serious, again?”

“Fuck you I like it like that.”

“No you don’t.”

“I do, it keeps me preoccupied.  Do you know how many conversations I get? How many hysterics?  It’s awesome.  Look at you.  What do you get? Passing glances?  Pshh.  Child’s play.”

“I get a lot.  I just like to look at them.  But this one, I don’t know…”

Mercival patted another bit into his ear and sighed.

“Don’t be creepy.”

“I can’t help it.  And for one thing it’s not creepy.  I saw you do it.  Remember Oceanornia Seven?  I do.  I will never forget.” Mercival laughed until she accidently dropped her man into a cavernous volcano.

“OH NO.”

“Look what you did.  I told you.”

A diary

The black man stared at me from the window.  From behind me, there were weird screams or yelps that I couldn’t really pinpoint, but even the dog ignored that.  Sally crawled out of her corner and walked up to the kitchen table.

Sally’s my little sister, she’s seven.  On her last birthday, we fried two eggs we found on the back of a VW bug, abandoned.  She really liked that.  I like to go out of my way, keep the old holidays and stuff like that and nobody even notices me disappearing.

Except Sally.  She knows when I don’t show up where I’m supposed to be.

When the virus released, we all thought (after the doctors gave the go ahead) we thought we could go outside, walk in the rivers, play.

And we did.

My name is Bethany, and I am 17 years old.  My mom died after the storm.

My dad was never there anyway.  I hope he’s dead.

My two brothers went to the store a few weeks after, and never came back.  A few days after they left, we saw a band of pickup trucks speed past the house.  They had the flags.  Even music, which I thought was a pretty dumb idea considering doesn’t it take energy or something, battery power to play the radio?  I don’t know.

I wish I would have studied those things in school.  Mr. Johnson down the street was an engineer, but when we tried to get him to hook up the generator he started talking about inverters and an AC and Mrs. Fluser said “that’s a metal band I fucked once” and laughed when her ear fell to the ground.

Mr. Fluser took her back inside and we didn’t see her for awhile, but I saw her one night a few weeks later sitting in her yard looking up at the stars.  She was on one of those sunning recliners and even had a big floppy hat and everything so I didn’t bother her.

Anyway, we finally figured out the generator and counted all the guns.  There were seven on our block.  If my mom was alive I’m sure she would have stole one.

I’m thinking about it.  I saw the way Phil looked at our window yesterday and I could tell that he was thinking about how much food we had in the pantry.  I know it.

I’m watching him.

Today I counted all the granola bars at the registry again.  Mr. Fluser’s idea.  Said everyone needs to come together and kumbaya, etc.

When I count the bars I’m supposed to check off the mark from the last person and then identify the different brands and draw with my pencil the shape of the bar on the paper and try to rendition it accurately he said.

Then I’m supposed to sit and think of the bars for about 30 mins before my break.  That’s when the sun touches the left side of the roof of Mr. Williamson’s house.  Sometimes I forget to look over there and miss my break.  That makes me angry and Mr. Fluser comes around to check on me to make sure I get back on time to count the bars again but this time organize them .

In the afternoon I walk around the 10 lanes and knock on each door to verify who’s got their portion and give one bar each.

One time, Phil looked at me funny.  When I showed him the diagram of the bar and opened my case to reach in, I looked up cuz I felt a funny feeling.  His eyes were really shiny and then he looked at my ass (I know he did) and then the bars again and I gave him the bar real quick and left.

When I looked back he was still standing there in the doorway and he didn’t wave or smile or anything.  He was just standing there still and then when I kept walking down the sidewalk and then looked back again, he was still standing there and watching me but had leaned against the doorpost with his arms folded and a smug smile on his face.  I couldn’t see his eyes.

So now we have a dog.

Sally likes it.  I don’t.  It eats a lot. When we feed it.

There’s a man at the window and I know he sees it.

That makes me smile.

Sole and Ants, and a man, a door.

Hello WordPress world and good day.  I’m starting a short story challenge with my monthly writing group.  Here’s a short from last week.  Hope you like it and thank you for reading me.

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“This man, ugh, he bothers me.” Sole flipped through the brochures on the table and then shuttled them into the basket.  She looked up.

“Hmm.. okay yeah I wanna hear your story and all, but first I gotta go pee,” Ants said.

“You know there are cats in New York who piss less than you do.” Sole said.

Ants left the window but when he came back there was already someone else there.  “Hey, how’d you get here? I was in line first.”

The man ignored him and continued to whisper into the rectangle hole in the door.  He had his fingers hooked on each side of the six inch portal and his lips very close to the grate.  Ants didn’t like that.

“Hey, what are you saying to her?”

The man glanced at him quickly, barely moving his head. He had on one of those secure metal jackets, the ones that the gods couldn’t change.  They cost more than Ants made in a year.

The man’s bodysuit flickered as the gods tried to change his appearance.  The armor resisted, as it was supposed to do, but Ants wasn’t so lucky.  His Hawaiian shirt flickered and turned into a tight black workout shell, and his pants into biker shorts.  His hair stood straight on end.

“Guess it’s time to work out,” he said sadly.

The man at Sole’s window grunted and continued whispering.  Ants didn’t like that.

He edged over to the man and tapped on his armor.  It made a tinkering sound so Ants started tapping out a beat.  The man tried to shrug him off but he persisted.

Suddenly they heard Sole.

“Who’s there?  Is that Ants? Bring him back.  You. Leave.” Her voice was strong and firm. He liked that.

The man sighed and lifted his body from his crouch on the floor.

“You got your way.”

“I always do.”

When he looked back through the grate Sole was flipping through the brochures again. Her long dark brown hair cascaded down the edges of the white gown she wore, it was fitted.  So sexy, Ants thought.  She reached out to her shelf and pulled down the purple hat he’d gotten her.  Once she put it on her head it contrasted against the pale sheen of her skin and her eyes sparkled.

“Tell me a story,” she said to him softly.

“What kind of a story?”

“Oh anything really, something where things never change,” she purred and flipped off her hat.

Ants could see she was starting to crawl from her table to his window.  And.  He liked that.

“Once upon a time–” he began.

“No.  Something else,” she croaked and crawled knees on elbows closer to his door.

“Okay, uh.  A cat lived in a box.  Someone shot it.  The end.”

“I love your stories,” Ants heard her say, but he couldn’t see her anymore.  She was probably leaning up against the door, he thought.

“Ants, I want you to do something for me.”

“Hmm?”

“When they change the tree again, the one that’s right outside my south window, tie a yellow ribbon on it, and–”

“I cannot do that Sole. I mean, the grid doesn’t work like that anymore. You know that.”

An eyeball floated across the room and smashed against the wall.  Was it hers?  Or someone else’s? Ants wondered.

“Someone else’s,” he heard from the floor and then her finger poked out, slid against the grate, and tapped him on the nose.

Me

Not a joke

Or secret message
is at cynical

un numb
( )To where things happen

Nobody asks me about my day
What I think
Where I do

Why

So I print for EVERyone

Everywhere
not just u

 

Sharing “Featured Image” /Category Format – is Options> post settings :( more update write preview ahhhhhh

If I could climb

into a window of your soul

and take a nap

right there

stretched out

super stretched

yawning

lithe

like a cat

a soft roundy curved in

 

one

very little movements

hip

turn here

cheek t

urn there

mmm

yep

I like it

 

I like it when I

and you

if you

cry my tearcup

 

soul  let me whisper

croak

take

 

stroll

stretch

asleep fall again

in

 

the crook crook your neck

arm

where any really

I would a piece of you

there

and it would

so nice

so h

 

py

all I’m

i

is

mmmm

 

just a thought

“Brad”

Speaking with him is like
I can not
Walking with him is like
Oh. Hmm
Staying in is how you snap
Oh. This is very interesting

Dreaming is like it
Oh hmm wait and pick up the package

Sinking through you anyway
not actively seeking meat
Be with you
but I do not eat it if it’s right in front of me