She scurries down to meet the maker

She scurries down to meet the maker
Making her body boil

She puts a hand between her thighs
This time she will not be ignored

He serves her tea from minced bones
Percolate, he turns her blood to oil

She veils her soul with spider webs
She won’t let him take full control

And so they sit so prim and proper
Each side waiting to explode on the other

She leaps forth with pointed toes
Sliding down between his spread legs

Each limb examined
Her meat will generate a fortune

Breast tightly press against her hands
His full intention sprung up along beside her

He turns to grab his wooden axe
Her fingers curiously test the blade’s prickly prick

Tailor made chamber maid
Her skin was made to bleed

Arms flare back and as quick as a snap
Her head goes tumbling forth

Skinned and tagged,
Her follicles all accounted for

Her flesh is perfumed for a market trip
The meat neatly stacked and adorned

[Fiction] Friday #114

PROMPT: Yesterday, your character called in sick on their birthday because they knew their co-workers had a surprise party planned. Write what happens today.

Baby Fart Blue

I’ve been sitting in my car for over 45 minutes trying to figure out how to erase what happened yesterday. How they ever found out it was my birthday is beyond me. Two years, for two years I was able to conceal the day. I don’t have a facebook or any other social networking nonsense. When asked, I seamlessly adverted the conversation which I’ve become quite good at. There was this one time I almost cracked when Mitch from sales cornered me; he looked me straight in the eyes and asked when was my birthday and why haven’t I told anyone. After a long pause I began to stutter a little when from out of nowhere Peggy the receptionist paged him with a phone call. Maybe if they knew why yesterday could have been avoided. This is ridiculous, a man has the right to share whatever personal information he wants without this sort of harassment!

I’m really late, I’m never late they can’t hold it against me. I had to park at the top level of the garage where no one ever parks. Still, I’m going to have to get out of the car soon enough, they can spot my hide out up here from the windows in the cafeteria. What am I saying, they want to lynch me at this point. I skipped out on my surprise party. Ha ha, I only wish I could have seen their faces after they got word I wasn’t coming in. I didn’t plan for the aftermath, though. I have to face them now. It’s funny how I found out too. If it wasn’t for my post lunch bowl movement session then I would have never over heard the plan for celebration. What gets me heated up and prompted me to act so hasty was their determination to “get me”. This surprise was not a celebration of my existence but a treacherous victory over my right to privacy. Now today I have to sneak around like a criminal.

It must have been that nosey Brenda from accounting. She heads the party inquisition. She’s the head-to-toe-in-pink sort of gal. She is always smiling when she passes you in the hallway. If you dare ask her how she is doing she will reply with an over emotional GREAT! She sends those cliché chain letter emails on how life is filled with fuzzy little animals sliding off of rainbows and unicorns that poop heart bubbles, but you better make sure to send it to the other 10 co-workers around you or all your hair will fall off and you’ll have halitosis. And like clockwork, 30 seconds later I will have about 10 forwards of the same message. She has 5 different cutesy animal calendars in her office. All that pink makes me a little dizzy when I get in her space- might be the cotton candy scented candles. Those things will give you cavities after prolonged exposure. I asked her once how she refrains from vomiting glitter and sparkly objects whenever she enters her office but she laughed and slugged me on the shoulder really hard. I think that was the most honest interaction I have ever had with her.

How did she do it, though? Must have been Rose the new HR rep. They instantly became close- she is just like Brenda only in baby fart blue. She must have checked my file or something. Isn’t that a breach of confidence? She must have violated an HR oath. It’s enough delaying it. I’m just going in. I can see all their cars are parked so I should expect a full house. Hmm, no sight of Peggy out in the front, I must be pretty lucky. She would have been the first to deal with...

“SURPRISE!!!!” “BLURRRRRGGGPPH….” Everything grew really quiet. “Sorry guys, I projectile vomit whenever startled. “

[Fiction] Friday

Prompt: On the way home from work your character stops into a music store and purchases an unusual musical instrument that they’ve always wanted to learn how to play. Why today?

(Okay, so seeing as it's my first [Fiction] Friday, I honestly had no idea what buttons I was pressing and accidentally posted myself on Mister Linky's Magical Widgets. Sorry... I thought I was getting access to other stories. Since I goofed and listed myself first I'm just going to go ahead and post my piece even if it's a little early. Hope you enjoy!)

Roger has spent half his lifetime avoiding physical contact. It’s his hands you see, they sweat-profusely. If he’s nervous, he sweats. Anxious-more sweat. Angry and he’ll start to drip. Just thinking of anything nerve wrecking can trigger it.

Nothing has helped the situation. He’s tried lotions, potion, and even meditation couldn’t help. Maud his landlord claimed holding a toad for 30 mintues removed the same problem for her cousin Saul when they were kids. He held it for 5 minutes before it slipped out of his increasingly moist fingers.

He had become quite cunning at avoiding handshakes and other forms of physical contact. His passion for music has suffered as a result of his affliction. When he is alone he can play any instrument presented in front of him. But as soon as another pair of eyes enters his plane of awareness, he becomes a dribbling mess.

He finally got word of an instrument that would allow him to quit his job and pursue his music career-the Theremin! To think, an instrument that can be played without even touching it! There is, of course, a chance he might get electrocuted, but there is no use questioning it without trying. After work today he is passing by Melrose’s House of Odd Noise and he’s scoring himself a ticket to physical free paradise.

god fearing kind of folk

Maude Sanders is a quiet, god fearing kind of folk who enjoys the basic necessities in life; a strict diet of insecurities reinforced by a life time of premature attempts of making up her own mind due to fear of seeing her own reflection flip her the bird. It’s no surprise she got involved in petty crime.

At first she would start off by taking things from houses she visits. She took a decorative soap from Mrs. Crandle’s bathroom and sister Nan’s bottle opener. She would take anything that seemed mundane and its disappearance unnoticeable. That way the victim would never suspect foul play. They would give a puzzled look and cross themselves. Where the hell could it have gone? Margaret her next door neighbor and probably her most frequent victim, would phone her a few times to ask if Maude borrowed her spare scissor, but Maude would never admit to it. No one could ever know about her little secret power.

She felt the tang of excitement when she lifted an object with the intention of removing it from its proper place. She got to the point were she had to take it while someone was in the same room as her, just to bring the stakes up higher. Maude would feel the satisfaction of knowing a secret about a person without them knowing she knows. The problem was she had no need for these objects. Soon she was running out of places to stash these trophies.

Maude did what she deemed best. One night, when she knew Herald would be down at Scoop’s bowling alley she collected her tiny treasures in plastic garbage bags. She loaded up the sedan and drove out to the docks to dispose of her bootie. She had to be extra careful not to be noticed. She tried to create an answer if she was ever caught like that one time Tiffany, her little dumpling, found Mrs. Crawl’s vibrating massager. Lord knows if it wasn’t for Herald’s arrival she would have had to hurt her way out of that one.

Still…she still has no answer-truth or lie. She doesn’t know why she has to steal, she just knows that she feels most genuine the moment she gets away with it. Walking away waving good bye and the whole time she has a part of them that they don’t even know they lost. She was the only one to know. It wasn’t until she misplaced one of her own objects that she started to feel guilty. That’s why she chose to stop this whole snatching business and disposed of all these trinkets she grew to obsessively love.

She found a nice secluded spot at the edge of the dock. One by one she slowly dropped the bits and pieces of her success. 23 pairs of keys, 3 bras, 56 lighters, one urn filled with the remains of Gladys’s pet squirrel, she never did like the rodent. All and all she filled 3 large bags worth of stuff. When she was done she felt a bit liter on her feet, she even skipped a little back to her car. Along the way she found a pair of shoes that must of belong to one of the boaters. Looking left and right she quickly picked them up and stuffed them in her purse and continued to skip her way home.

memories...

Remember the nature of your dreams and how intoxicating they are.
Remember your own nature and your savage desires to see the clearest set of mandibles grinding back at you through mirrored surfaces.

Remember gnawing capacity and fearless veracity.
Remember the surging light that escapes your pores and its sweet fragrance greedily swallows all the surrounds it, imposing smiles.

Remember you must betray yourself to discover the true nature of your strength.
Remember a witches’ power can only emerge when you have both destroyed and synthesized the human power.

Remember you are inseparable to all that surrounds you.
Remember you are a puddle of tiny particles interacting and experiencing the collective umbrella of star dust.

Remember that 1 + 1 is 2 but also an infinite amount of 3’s.
Remember to forget yourself.