Unchilled

“Childhood’s a collection of lies.”

“Really?” I laughed into the phone, and my back spasmed. “Where’s the evidence?”

“In memories suggesting I used to wish for snowstorms”, she said.

“I have a copy of your ‘Come Snowstorm Come’ spell, glued to the front page of my ‘Warrioresses Survive Together’ journal, which corroborates your recollection.”

“I forgot about that.” She laughed and then cussed.

“Pain’s getting worse?”

“Nah, just the cold carving sour nothings inside my bones.”

“Let’s take the chisel and eye-gouge the bastard.”

“Together”, she said.

“Always”, I said, and the warmth of our combined laughter unchilled the world.
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for Robin

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the wee notes…

– Linked to Friday Fictioneers. Visit Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog, to join the creative fun. Follow this LINK, to read what others have brewed out of the photo prompt.
– Also link to Prompt Nights ~ Come chase oh fleeting thoughts of the moment. Sanaa invited us to celebrate World Thinking Day (Feb 22nd), by catching up with a friend, and writing a poem (or fiction piece) based on the conversation with them.

photo by Sarah Potter

Self Bloomed Rainbows

This holiday season, I am hosting flesh and bones bursting with unwanted guests. Mistress Nausea brought Sir Hurl. They arrived almost two weeks ago, accompanied by Lady Fever—an insufferable harlot who refuses to take three steps without her good-for-nothing boy toys, Dizziness and Fatigue.

And I can’t even think of throwing them out, since they are best friends with Mr. Pill, and he is the only one keeping Lord Crohn’s from puncturing my pipes and letting all sorts of crap leak who knows where. I haven’t been able to pretend that the undesirable horde is not constantly around. But most days, sipping tea and nibbling on pomegranate seeds dulls the effects of their visit a considerable bit.

When their presence gets so loud that it threatens to crack my skull, I sip on words and tell myself stories to quiet them out. Some days (nights?), I share the stories with you. And you add your bits to my bits… Our united bits say, “We aren’t alone in this. We are awesomely strong. And goodness, we are so freaking modest! In fact, our modesty can only be surpassed by our extreme hotness.”

So, there you have it, my Wicked Luvs: when my bones and gut hurt so much that I must squint to see my screen properly, I write things that make me grin. And I turn to friends who morph said grins into laughter. Then I wait for magic to happen… in the company of self bloomed rainbows.

“Bloom a Rainbow”

If winter blues
ever fray my edges,
I shall bloom
a rainbow…
and fill my-Self
with spring.
self-bloomed-rainbows