(no title yet…. i forgot what i wanted to call it : ) fff#3: (Starter) They never could get that right They never could get that right thought the old man wryly with a shake of his silver head. There was something in the act of taking off, the tension in his thighs, the effort of getting past the mental block to the allegedly impossible, the way that the ground buckled slightly when his feet eventually left the ground, that none of the books, the comics, the movies or the TV shows never got, far less for this made-for-TV movie….
Flash Fiction Friday #21: Fresh To Death
fff#21: (starter) it wasn’t how fresh It wasn’t how fresh his mark was whenever he went out, or the way his shirt hung just right, or the way his jeans hugged his hips and the demim kissed his skin, or the combination of dimples and bashful smile that always smelled of mint that got me, but it certainly helped.
Flash Fiction Friday #31: Dat Is Obeah
Fff#31: (idea inclusion) witch, egg(s), cave This one is a lil bit different cuz i’m not really to use the words, more the ideas of them…. which is what i was supposed to do last week but this one came out much better. i really like it actually ^_^ it lil long doh…. Kenny sat in his truck as he stared apprehensively at the house. It was one of those old wooden houses with shutters and fretwork that had fallen into the disrepair that came with age. Lonely tufts of grass sprouted between moss-covered, formerly white, pebbles. A large mango…
Infatuation: A Haiku
Watching from afar, i wonder what it’s like to be wrapped in your arms.
Flash Fiction Friday #30: Charmer
fff#30: (inclusion) snakecharmer, citrus, book(s) Not quite sure if i got what i was supposed to do quite right, but no scene 🙂 The snakecharmer plays his instrument and sways, serene, almost oblivious to the fact that the very breaths he takes enthralls the creature before him. So it was with me and him. The melody of his voice drove me to distraction whenever he spoke to me, and the movement of his hips when he walked away hypnotized me. But he wasn’t oblivious to the effect he had on me. Oh no, it was quite the opposite. He read…
Writers’ Insomnia
I write best late at night. Maybe it’s the silence that forces me and my thoughts to spend some quality time together; a silence that is interrupted only by my fidgeting, or the clacking of the keyboard or a pencil scrawling across paper, or the lack of people bothering or observing or disturbing with their mere presence. Somewhen between midnight and 3am on a good night, when everyone else is sound asleep, my mind is full of ideas, keeping me from sleep and forcing me awake until I let them out. My suspicious mind thinks that anyone who happens to…
Flash Fiction Friday #22: When I Drink
fff#22: (starter) when I drink (ah find d permalink! plus the link for the blog itself is HERE. also, i don’t drink. seriously). when i drink, the warmth trickles down my throat, settles in my tummy for a moment, then rushes off to curl my toes. the warmth then moves to my head to cloud my judgment, heighten my thoughts, and dull the reasons why i don’t think about them. the warmth then envelops me, heats the tips of my ears, then whispers into them, and tells me i’m invincible, and so i am. but eventually the warmth dissipates, the toes…
Flash Fiction Friday #18: Dance
Let it be known that prance is an incredibly UNATTRACTIVE word. fff#18: (inclusion) dance, glance, trance, prance, pants she enters as the music dims to announce that dj prance would be supplying the tunes for the night. the club is dark and the crowd moves, almost in a trance, to the carnal demands of the pounding bass. she makes her way from the bar, drink in hand, to join the mass of bodies pressed together as they dip and sway in time to the music. she takes a glance around her, and their eyes meet. she bites her lip and…
New Frontier
So funny story about this poem… The timestamp for the creation is the 5th of august 2008. See what had happened was I started this poem and just never finished it… I couldn’t quite find the direction I wanted it to go in, until one night, the fevers of writing possessed my brain, (lol whut??), and it came to me. And so on the 22rd of September 2010, in the late hours of the night, I finally freakin’ finished the poem. And here it is in it’s longsuffering glory. The title is a work in progress. Give it a year…
Flash Fiction Friday #29 Curlylocks
Flash Fiction Fridays Trigger: (starter) as much/little as As much as it may surprise some, the way I wear my hair now a days did not start off as this huge social statement many take it to be. I mean, two and a half years ago when I decided to go free and be happy to be nappy with the hair one Carnival Friday for school, I didn’t really have anything on my mind other than, “Hmm, what the hell can I do with my hair that isn’t a bun or 2 ponytails or spending 3 hours with a flat…