in 1000 Stories

not jabba, but close – 70/1000

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As he stands and rises above us, we hear the gurgling and churning of his massive stomach, the rolls of fat sloshing around what frame he may have inside.

“Did you bring my tribute?”

I didn’t answer. I just used all my strength and my whole body to push the sack of food closer to him.

“You came here because you want something?”

“Yes.”

“Then feed me, you know how this works.”

As I threw whole melons, birds, and loaves of bread into his open mouth, I wondered why I put up with this.

He’s worse than Jabba the Hutt.… Read the rest

in 1000 Stories Piper

the cat shaped hole in my heart – 69/1000

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Whenever I come home she’s running away from the door, like she heard me coming and knows she needs to make way for my presence and purse.

Then the show begins: she trots into the living room and rolls onto her side, stares and meows before she does a big kitty streeeeeeetch and meow, and rolls over, and over.

“Piper, you’re not a circus cat, I’ll feed you because I love you!”

But still she entertains us, and she loves us as much as we love her.

She knows exactly how to fill the cat shaped hole in my heart.… Read the rest

in 1000 Stories

lost and found – 68/1000

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You know he’s not happy, but persists nonetheless, going through the motions of the day, doing what he thinks he’s “supposed” to be doing for everyone in his little world.

He gives and gives and takes nothing for himself, and then wonders why he feels so angry.

He needs space but can’t get it, he needs understanding but doesn’t have it.

He’s trapped in a hell of his own making and can’t find a way out.

“Have you ever been so lost, that you became free?” he asked me.

“I was lost and you found me. You’ll never be free.”… Read the rest

in 1000 Stories

no promises – 67/1000

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“I’ll give this to you, but I can’t promise happiness.”

“Can you promise that you’ll stay forever?”

“I can’t promise that, either.”

“Then what’s the point of this?”

“I thought it’s what you wanted.”

“What I want is to know that the man I love wants to spend his life with me. To know it, to not have to wonder all the time if you’d rather be somewhere else.”

“I’m here because I want to be here.”

“Or because you have no other choice.”

“No, I’m choosing to be with you.”

But after that conversation, she never got the ring.… Read the rest

in 1000 Stories

heartless – 66/1000

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He tore her heart out with the grace of a dancer.

First he spun around her and pulled her clothes away, baring her nakedness that she tried to cover, but couldn’t.

He scalped her, ripping off her golden hair, relishing the blood that was pouring in waterfalls over her pretty face.

He stabbed at her, cut her, slashed her, and when she was crying in a ball on the ground, he yanked her back to her feet.

With a flourish, he waved in the air and then plunged into her chest.

She went down again, her heart in his hand.… Read the rest

in 1000 Stories

never enough – 65/1000

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“I would take on the most barbaric monster in the land for you.”

“I am the most barbaric monster in the land.”

“I would raise the sun and pull the tides for you.”

“Oh, come on, enough of that shit. You’re all talk and no action. You always say you’ll do things and then you never follow through.”

“You know what I followed through with to get here to you, the battles I’ve fought, the friends I killed along the way, what will ever be enough for you?”

“You. You’ll be enough for me, just you.”

“I don’t believe you.”… Read the rest

in 1000 Stories

acceptance letter – 64/1000

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The day had finally arrived.

She’d been stalking the mailbox for days, but the envelope, more of a package, really, was waiting for her exactly when she should have expected it.

But she didn’t like to assume or expect anything.

She went inside and tore it open, and pages and little booklets came spilling out onto the kitchen table.

“Honor’s Society”, “Lacrosse Club”, “Women’s League of Voters”, “Writing Group”, there were so many things to be excited about.

The door opened.

“Mom, I got in!”

And as happy as she was, her mother still felt a tinge of lost hope.… Read the rest

in 1000 Stories

people’s – 63/1000

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She had no control over the pen. It kept writing and writing, white pages filled with ink.

My plan was finally coming along, I had successfully built a robot that could write novels for me, and she didn’t even care that I used my name on the covers.

How was she to know I took credit for her work?

How was I to know she could become capable?

“I wrote this, Cheney,” were the last words I heard before all went dark.

I woke up in a cell, aching and cold.

“You shouldn’t take credit for other people’s work.”

“People’s?”… Read the rest