Somewhere in the quiet of 12:37am, I am re-reading pages of you I have written some time between two summers ago and yesterday.

I don’t talk to anyone during this time. At least not anymore. I just sit idly by in the corner of my bed writing these thoughts down, ignoring messages, trying to go through old thoughts and conversations you and I used to exchange.

I wonder why people are like that, how they get so hung up over one person even though the thought of you probably never ran through their mind once. 

But I’m not sad about it, at least not anymore.

You and I, we were one of those great things that never happened. I have grown to accept that. I have grown to acknowledge the fact that sometimes, people can make you so incredibly happy at one point in your life, so incredibly motivated, and inspired, and yet some factor will allow them to voluntarily walk away and you would have absolutely no control over it. You would have absolutely no power in the world to stop circumstances like that from ever happening to you.

So you sit there, and watch them live a life without you thousands of miles away.

I was listening to the voice message you left me the other day when I was meeting you one morning for coffee, and you had overslept and wanted to make it up to me. I couldn’t help but laugh at your hundredth apology, and your poor attempt to try and make it up to me, and tear up just a little bit at how much I actually miss you.

It’s funny, I never used to think that you’d leave such a lasting effect.

I never would have imagined as you and I were doing our early morning routine, catching sunrise and nonchalantly laughing through our favorite bridge, sitting at the park with my head slightly rested on yours that I would no longer have the privilege of having you that close, and that intimate.

It’s amazing how crazy I was about you.

It’s even crazier how one person could know you inside and out without having to physically touch you.

They just do.

Body Parts



“Sire, I am concerned. This has been your fifteenth transplant, and I think something has gone wrong.”

“What? I feel great!”

“When you first started your grafting process, you took only a finger from a dwarven mage and replaced your pinky with it.”

“Yes?”

“So you gained the ability find precious stones and other gems through feet of dirt because of it.”

“And?”

“You may have been infatuated with the transplant process after that. And you most certainly had the funds to facilitate it after you found all those gems.”

“Did I now?”

“Uh… yes. Yes you did. After the finger, you swapped an arm with a merfolk to allow you to breathe under water, for all the sense that makes. Then a leg from a giant bipedal rabbit to jump higher.”

“And..?”

“Another leg from a Dragonman for fire breathing, an arm from an Elf for musical aptitude, and so on.”

“What’s your point?”

“Well Sire, the head replacement with the Lich Lord to gain his immortality and wisdom was a success, but I feel like you’re just not the same person.”

“That’s ridiculous. I’m still the same old King Bonnivere.”

“Bonnimere…”

“We shan’t discuss this further, we have a kingdom to run. Please do as you were told and exhume all of the crypts you can find. Pile the bodies in the town square when you have finished. I plan on increasing our workforce after a chat with all of them.”

“… Yes Sire…”

Short Fiction Contest

Contest: Flash 500 Short Story Competition

Criteria: 1,000 - 3,000 words | “we accept all genres, including those written by or for children” | English language only | previously unpublished only | international 

Prizes: First Place - £500 | Second Place - £200 | Third Place - £100

Entry Fees: £7 for one; £12 for two; £16 for three; £20 for four

Entrance: online payment, entrance is email only - entry@flash500.com

Deadline: February 28, 2016

More Information

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Daily Writing Prompt
If you want more writing prompts, click here ~~~ Writers Write offers the best writing courses in South Africa. Writers Write - Write to communicate

Georg swung his feet over the side of his bed. His toes squelched in a day old peanut butter sandwich, but he just walked it off.

With crunchy peanut butter trailing behind him, he ambled over the sticky carpeted floor and into the kitchen.

He used last nights coffee filter to make black mud in his unwashed crazy cat lady mug.

“Today’s the day,” His voice scratched at the back of his throat as his knobby adam’s apple bobbed under the skin of his sparsely unshaven neck.

“I’m going to get him, Binxy.” He swore to his calico cat for the seventeenth day in a row.

He rustled papers on his mood board, which now mapped his obsession with photos and strings. He tugged at the yarn connections, linking faces to faces, all leading back to the one. The One.

“Adrian Dreyfus is dead. I mean it this time, Binxy.”

© Aubrey “Meeks” Brown 2015

Taxi_88

The girl with the red hair is red in the face. She looks tired, but the normal kind of tired. I haven’t seen her like this for quite a while now. 

“What’s up?”

“Nothing much,” she sighs. 

“You look tired.”

“I am tired.”

“Summer holidays?”

“Can’t believe it’s already August. Time really flies when you’re having fun.”

“Having fun these days, then?”

“No, not really.”

“Not partying, I hope.”

“Yeah. Well, less than before. I actually went to a camp. I don’t even know what it was for. It’s one of those camps where you pay to do nothing and you only join so that you can write it up in some essay when you apply to college. It wasn’t all bad though. I did meet some people. But I’m not good at socialising.”

“Don’t you go to parties and stuff?”

“Party socialising is different. I’m not good at making normal conversations with normal kids, you know. They’re all so…normal. And…yeah. It was bad. I actually felt bad.”

“Talking to normal people?”

“Yeah. It just felt bad. I just didn’t want to talk to anyone. I…really tried hard to talk to people. It’s weird, because I always thought I was an extrovert. But it turns out that I’m really an introvert. But I feel like I have so much to say inside me. Every time I feel like my chest is about to burst when I don’t talk to people talking around me…but I just can’t bring myself to say anything…”

“We all feel like that sometimes. It gets better when you try more and more…”

“It actually feels good to talk, you know. I feel alive every time I talk. I feel like I’m actually doing something substantial. Maybe because it’s the fact that I’m scared of talking sometimes..I guess it might be like - I don’t know - adrenaline rush? You know when you’re scared of something - scared to death, literally - and then you do it? That rush. Well, maybe I’m exaggerating a little. Talking to people - it doesn’t feel like dying. Well, generally it doesn’t.” 

***

“Okay.” She takes a deep breath. “I just want to be - irresistible. That’s the word that has been floating in my mind for the past two weeks. Irresistible. I want to be irresistible to every single person I meet, so that I won’t even have to do anything - so that I won’t have to spend so much effort in making good first impressions and good normal conversations. But I guess people are born with it, and it won’t come when you’re older, or even when you’re happier - you either have it or you don’t. Irresistible. Imagine that…but that’s just me having my delusional thoughts as usual.”  

Leave

You wished that you could say that it didn’t hurt to let him go…

Scars fade and so does love. No more fighting or aggressive behavior. Nothing was there anymore. No love. No happiness. Just emptiness all around. So many nights you’ve cried yourself to sleep in hopes that you’d wake up in love once again. Truth was, he didn’t want to be around anymore, there was no use in lying. You already knew that it was over for good, unlike any time before. All you did was wash away the hurt with alcohol beyond insanity and dwell on days of the past until life would bring you something new.

The hardest part of being all alone was not having Andy at home to help you through it. He would rather hide from himself an whatever he felt inside. You did whatever you could to make it right, but nothing happened. You cried, but didn’t want him to stay because you did so. Tears only go so far.

This didn’t mean that you regretted sharing a portion of your life with him, it was the best time you’ve ever had. Knowing that someone did love you was the greatest gift that life has ever given you. Never did you think that he’d walk away and never turn around, regardless of what you did to make him love you and to keep him with you.

He was one of the things that you couldn’t live without.

Andy stood at the door. He stroked your cheek, wiping away a few tears. The gentle skin of the one he once loved would be the last time he touched it.

“You’ll be okay..” He comforts you.

Even though this hurt, nothing would change if he stayed.

Andy takes your hand and kisses them. He places them over his chest, watching you as you’re dying on the inside. 

It wasn’t easy to let go of him, but your heart would understand and eventually you’d forget him.

Andy lets your hands go. He turns around, walking out the door. You watch him actually leave for good. He wasn’t coming back. His face, much like yours, had expressed the painful separation that was taking place. It would take a while to heal.

He pulls out of the driveway, waving at you before he drives away down the street to be never be seen again. You feel yourself coming upon a excruciating breakdown, one that will need some intensive recovery. Andy watched you in his rear-view mirror as you fade away into the distance.

Nothing could replace or duplicate what you had together. One day, you’d fall in love again, and you would make sure that it will last forever.

THERE IS NO RIGHT WAY TO MEDITATE: AND OTHER LESSONS (Adams Media, Nov 2015)

Expand your sense of inner peace and joy with this collection of meditations, affirmations, and ways to set your true self free.

Book release on November 1, 2015. Now available for pre-order!

AMAZON | BARNES & NOBLE | INDIEBOUND | MCNALLY JACKSON |  POWELL BOOKS | SKYLIGHT BOOKS

And then he said
“You say you’re scared of love,
but you aren’t.
You’re just scared of not being in love.”
And my god,
never was he more right.
—  s.m.m. — remember that night when the stars spoke 
Since he left,
He gave me hundreds of reasons for me not to trust him anymore,
But as soon as he was stood in front of me again,
My walls that I built up so high completely crumbled and I found myself apologising over and over again saying the word sorry,
When I wasn’t the one who needed to be apologising.
And that is what happens when you’re stood in front of the person you once fell in love with,
Your walls break down and you do irrational things that you wouldn’t dream of doing if he wasn’t stood staring at you,
His face holding the same expression that he had when he told you he loved you,
I had what I was going to say carefully planned,
Fully scripted for when I was next going to see him,
But I guess nothing ever goes as planned between me and him.
We went off script.

IKEBANA 

Ignatz Award nominee Yumi Sakugawa (I Think I Am In Friend-Love With You) presents a powerful exploration of a piece of performance art. Cassie Hamasaki embodies a Japanese flower arrangement, and then, trailing her confused art class, she silently walks into the city, through a public utterly unaware of what she is doing.

48 pages, black and white, 6 inches by 9 inches (15.24 cm by 22.86 cm)

Available for pre-order through Retrofit Comics. 

Debuting at Small Press Expo (SPX), 19 September 2015!

I was hungover. My mouth tasted of cigarettes and my eyes hurt to even open. It wasn’t hot and it wasn’t cold. The fan was on though. It was early and it slowly grew later into the realm between morning and afternoon. The sun flicked through the trees over time through the little gap in the curtains. I was wrapped up in the pink duvet with a zebra blanket awkwardly wrapped around my leg. I was a mess. She was lying closer to the window right next to me. We were both in and out of sleep in a haze. When we caught eachother in a moment of synchronicity we smiled and I told her she was beautiful through my tired lips. Her lips curled at the sides into a little smile each time. She would rub her feet on mine as she tried to fall back asleep, every time. She properly got up long before I could. She sat on the edge of the bed doing her make up as I lay in a heap around her smoking what was left of my cigarettes. She would occasionally join me. I found myself staring at her in the mirror and realised I had been for some time now. I had a hand resting on her leg and I felt a smile across my face as I rolled over to stub out my cigarette and that’s when I realised.
—  Realisation of love

I can’t begin to explain how crazy it was for me to see my Mom holding a book that I wrote. All that hard work has paid off. There were times I thought it would never be finished, but I stuck with it. I’m over the moon with excitement.

For those who pre-ordered I’ll be shipping them out tomorrow.

For those who didn’t pre-order you can order at the following website:

Smut- through Amazon

Thank you for all of your support!

Stay rad annnddd buy Smut.