My fault? When I tripped over because I didn’t tie up my shoelaces, that was my fault. When my favourite plant died because I forgot to water him, that was my fault. When I lost a friend because I kept putting off contacting them, that was my fault.
When you locked me in your room, when you tried to finger me under the tables in our science class, when you told everyone we had sex, when you made fun of my body and called me a whore, when you tricked me, when you groomed me, when you made fun of me for going to the police, was that my fault? You say yes, I say fuck you.
Those parts of me I’ll never have back, you stole that. There was no us, and there certainly was no me. You haunt me, when I see you my legs don’t work, and I want to run towards you, to embrace you, then thrust my knife into your back. Because that is what you did to me.
I see you laugh at me; I see you jeer. Whore, slut, skank, did you ever really know my name? Did you know what my favourite colour was? Did you know what show I loved the most? Did you even want me? Or did you want my body? You salivate, dripping drool like a dog with a gaping maw, you ate me, then spat me out when I resisted. You didn’t want me when I fought back.
You’re a monster, a lying cheating beast who prays on those who are smaller. You saw a rabbit, ripe, fresh and full of hopes, and you snapped its neck. For so long that rabbit lay there dormant, its neck hanging like a loose rope. I loved you once, at least I thought I did, I was 12 when you started attacking me. You said you love me, then proceeded to treat me like a toy.
You won, you won finally, I broke. 2 times I stood on a ledge, 2 times I choked myself with a rope. I turned, naïve, thinking maybe you’d see what you did. You were laughing. Mouthing “jump”. So, I tried, and 3 angels held me down, took me to the hospital and tried to fix what they could. They mended my physical wounds and tried to fix my brain. They had to remove the TV remote chord, I tried to die again.
I haven’t seen you since, and that brings me great joy. Every time I hear your name, see you active online, I laugh. I’m not fixed, not yet. I don’t think I ever will be. There’s no way to fix what you’ve broken, but that doesn’t mean that it will always bring me down. One day I know I’ll be able to stop the flashbacks, look past the trauma and know it wasn’t my fault. Until then I just must play it day by day. One day you’ll be scared of me, like how I am with you. And on that day, I will have won.
when i was eleven, my older brother passed away. he was fourteen, he loved blink 182 and the offspring, he played guitar and was even a part of a band (MFIC; motherfuckers in charge). he was impatient but kind, and he was the best brother i could have asked for. it has been nine years since he passed and i have forgotten what his voice sounded like.
i have forgotten what it was like to have a constant companion, someone who was always there to talk to. when he was with me, i felt protected. nobody could hurt me with my big brother there. he never let anyone rag on me, even if he was actively doing so (which was often.)
i loved my brother dearly, even though he most likely regarded me as the annoying kid sister most of the time. I liked to be wherever he was, doing whatever he was doing. i admired him more than i had or ever will admire somebody else, with no regard to how irritated he would get at my constant presence. nobody likes to hang out with their little sister 24/7.
looking back i am glad i pestered him so much to play with me, as now i have more memories to look back on. like playing on the stairs that led up to his room, slowly moving up each step until reaching the top, where i would be so loud and obnoxious until he came out and let me play the playstation with him.
or when we would play swords in the backyard, when we shot empty soda cans with bb guns, when he dared me to eat a jalapeno out of our mom’s garden (which i did, in one big bite.) and then had to run inside to get a glass of milk while i cried and blubbered in the middle of the yard. when we were playing storm troopers in the middle of winter, and my tongue got stuck to a metal pole.
while i may not remember his voice, his smell, or the small details of him as a person, i do have the memories of the time spent together. nine years have passed and my brother has become more of an idea than a person. i think about him everyday, if not when i wake up then before i fall asleep.
i think about what my life would be like with my big brother still by my side. would i carry the same ideas, would i have the same passions? who would i be had he not passed away? sometimes i wish i was her, oblivious to loss and able to live a complete childhood.
but i figure every life has a purpose, so does every death. in the short time i had my brother, i had the best childhood any kid could ask for. i had a partner in crime, who i thought would be there forever.
after nine years you would think you would find a way to fill that hole that is left in your hear after losing a loved one. you find ways to distract from it, to busy yourself. but you never find exactly what you need to feel complete again, simply because you are unable to.
i love you big brother, you stay in my heart always.
“I… Can I try something?” My whole life i had thought that i was straight… but these past few months… I’m not so sure anymore. “Sorry, that… uhm… that was really random! And loud! And i interrupted your story Sammy! I’m so sorry!” The words fell from my mouth and my cheeks started to heat under her intense gaze.
Her dark hair that was styled like a boy’s and the light sprinkle of freckles under her whiskey gold eyes warmed me to the core. The way she sat on the edge of my bed and let her eyes wander across my body sitting in my desk chair opposite her, only intensified my blush and fidgeting. A small smirk grew on her full lips as she leaned forward, resting her elbows on khaki covered knees. “It’s okay Katherine. You wanted to try something?” She raised and eyebrow. “And I’m loving the outfit. It’s cute.” Sam winked and i pressed my knees together looking away. I was wearing a short maroon skirt with a loose grey sweater tucked in. It hung off one shoulder exposing the strap of my black bralette. I matched my outfit with black over the knee socks and was wearing boots earlier but took them off once we started to do our project.
Still not looking at her i replied. “Thank you. And you have to promise me you won’t move.” I dared a peek at her and realized my mistake once i saw her bitting her lip. And then i made another mistake. I never looked away from her entrancing mouth until she spoke.
“Whatever you say, Kitten.” She smirked again. I blushed even more and pressed my hands to my lap. “It’s alright if i give you a nickname right? You gave me one?” No one called her Sammy. It was just Sam. She was challenging me but it was hard to focus after how she said kitten. “All your friends call you Kat, thought I’d change it a little.”
“Yes.. wait no… Um, you can… but y-you can’t say it like that.” I pulled my lip between my teeth to stop myself from babbling on.
“Sure thing Kitten.” Damn, she wasn’t going to stop. And she didn’t care about my permission. “So, what was it you wanted to try?”
“You gotta pinky swear you won’t move.” I held my pinky out. Sam just stared.
“You’re kidding right?” I didn’t move my pinky away. “Oh shit, you’re serious.” Staring a moment longer she took my pinky with her own and then she put her hands behind her and leaned back. Her hand was much larger than my own but it makes sense because Sam is about six inches taller than me.
Taking a deep breath i stood and walked to her and stood between her legs. “Can i… i mean, is it okay if i… uh… I’m really confused and i need to know… if I…” What the hell was i even saying? This wasn’t making any sense. I ran my finders roughly through my naturally curly blonde bob.
“Do whatever you want Kitten, i won’t bite. Unless you ask of course.” Sam bit her lip and trailed her eyes over my small frame. Building up my last bit of courage, i leaned down and brushed my lips against hers. A small spark made me pull away an inch and i gasped. “Is there a problem?” Sam smirked.
“I don’t know.” I whispered. Looking up into her smoldering gaze.
“Why don’t you try it again but a little longer?” That sent a warmth to a place I’d never felt before. Pressing my lips against hers we kissed but not for long. Pulling away far enough so i could see her whole face i looked away. “What’s wrong?” Looking back at Sam i was shocked to find that she looked concerned.
“I don’t know how or what to do? I’ve never kissed someone before.” In an instant, she went from concerned to a complete bad girl.
“I can help with that, but only if you say that i can touch you. Wouldn’t want to break our little promise.” Sammy asking if she could touch me made me bite my lip. “Better yet, ask me to touch you Kitten.” A gasp escaped my lips and then i was moving, standing as close to her as i could get.
“Sammy,” she smirked, and my cheeks were so red, “will you please touch me?” Sam slowly traced her fingertips up the sides of my thighs, the feeling was so sensual that i had to close my eyes. Her hands came to a rest on my hips and then suddenly i was falling- no, i was being pulled forward. I grasped onto her shoulders in to process to try and steady myself and slowly opened my eyes. I was sitting now, actually the better term would be straddling. Sam somehow managed to gracefully pull me into the the most compromising position I’d ever been in. “How did you-“ the question died in my throat once i looked into her eyes. There was so much heat and intensity in them that i thought i was gonna melt.
And then Sam pressed her lips against mine, our mouths moving against one another’s slowly. We picked up the pace once we got our rhythm and Sam deepened the kiss. I gripped her shoulders tightly and she held onto my waist. Sam slid her tongue across my bottom lip, asking for permission and i parted my lips giving her access. This was the moment that Sam decided to take complete control and she pressed a hand against the small of my back causing me to arch into her. She placed her other hand on my thigh gripping and touching the skin that wasn’t covered by my sock. The warmth between my legs grew and i tried to squeeze my thighs together but only succeeded in pulling myself closer to Sam. She smiled breaking the kiss. Angry that she broke it i tried to get up but Sam grabbed both of my thighs and pulled me flush against her, my skirt rode up a little in the process. Detangling my hands from her i tried to pull my skirt back down but she caught my wrists and held them with one hand. Using her free hand Sam pushed my skirt higher up my thigh. I squeezed my thighs together not wanting her hand to go any higher. Sams hand reached my panties and a gasp slipped from my lips. A smirk grew across hers. And then my lips where against hers, our tongues dancing in bliss. I couldn’t get enough of this, of her. There were too many things standing in the way. Her black hoodie was one of them. I tugged on the end of her hoodie and Sammy broke the kiss long enough to pull her hoodie off and then our lips connected.
People are not puzzles because they are tough to figure out— no; rather, it is the transformation from shattered fragments to fractured masterpiece that is so similar to the human condition. When a man is born, he is a box of broken and confused pieces dumped out onto the table of existence. He is unsorted, helpless— a mess.
The hands of life and experience slowly bring about a half-done image, a partially completed project that only brings frustration and discouragement to those who glance at it. It’s when the puzzle is nearer to completion that the true worth of its existence is seen.
The beauty of a puzzle does not lie in the perfection of the finished image; rather, the beauty lies in the spiderweb of fractures— the lines, curves, cracks and angles— that show proof of a broken masterpiece brought together.
People are like puzzles. Their true worth is seen in how their broken pieces come together to create the stunning masterpiece that is Healed Humanity.
“Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear.” The words in bold print on rearview mirrors subtly take up residence in one’s subconscious from the first moment they notice the warning typed over the reflection of one such “object” lurking in the small frame of existence right outside their vehicle.
The threat remains throughout the vehicle’s travels, regardless of the miles and landscapes it leaves behind. No matter what lies ahead, the ominous “objects” edge closer, larger in the corner of the eye; however, the shadows are often placed in the mind’s blind spots, left to fade. They never appear close enough to reality to have effect on anything but the mirror itself.
So what happens when the object creeps up and is suddenly upon you? When it overcomes you? What if the vehicle’s entire journey is purposed to run from the figures in the mirror? What if those figures in your mirror are closer than they appear?
I feel as though a large amount of sadness resides within me.. In a way that seems difficult to grasp. It seems to take refuge within the internal confines and crevices… so much so that the intermingling of two bodies—the metaphysical exchange of pleasure, specifically what exists beyond skin-to-skin and pelvis to pelvis contact—allows for an individual to dip into the pool of my vulnerabilities and reach out to me. The leverage one has… to wield the power of healing or corruption— and the jolt experienced from your touch against my skin causes the transcendental silhouette of my being to become water as it returns back to the very pool in which we both stand. To become one with the sadness around me and disguise myself from being captured, warding off others with the unbearable salinity of my tears, yet I am still vulnerable nonetheless. You can take a sip and I will heal you still, though I can flush you out until all you can witness are the waterfalls within my eyes that pool and gently trickle down my cheeks.
Whether you want a challenge, a break, or to get back in the groove, here are some writing exercises to get started!
Word Writing Prompts
Write 250-500 words using all five of the words listed. Try timing yourself to see how fast you can bang out a short or flash piece. To add extra challenge, use the words in the same order they’re listed.
peonies, hammer, pillow, hate, found
callback, vase, actor, broken, money
pink, dust, saturated, rust, bleak
dragon, farmer, monster, love, friend
Christmas, fight, jail, lemon, tiger
Write a Letter as Your Character
It can be a brand new character or a character you’re working on and they can be writing it to literally anyone. Use this to find their voice, opinions, personality, explore their life before the story, or just for fun. Below are some ideas of who they could write to.
a parent
their unrequited love
Beyonce
their past self
their future self
their best friend
a childhood crush
a priest
John Mulaney
Write a Flash Fiction Piece
Flash fiction is characterized as being less structured than a short story and more focused on the detail of a moment or collection of moments. It’s much more condensed and tends to be packed with vivid imagery. Shoot for under 500 words. Here are some prompts:
She had never seen a blade so big before.
“Come on!” “I can’t do it!”
A young chef has just realized she’s in the middle of a con.
a chess piece, an unloaded gun, and an attempted murder
I just had my 23rd birthday, a few days ago, and honestly it was probably one of the worst birthdays I’ve ever had. Only because one of my dogs of 12 years, Lady, decided to die the day before. I’ve had her through my entire teenage years and the first three years of my twenties. Might I just say, losing a dog, really really sucks. (Especially around your birthday)
