Chapter 1

Tried writing a short story, it kinda turned out like this. Tell me what you think! Should I continue this?

Suppressed noise. Sounds wired into headphones and eardrums, couples hold hands, some tensely. White noise humming from those minds temporarily blank as the wall they stare at.

Plastic handles sway like ominous pendulums. There’s a couple just above my head, millimeters from my face, which floats, reflected in the black glass within a metal door. I never noticed this blouse was the same color as the walls of a train compartment, white, dubiously sterile-looking. Opposite me, the girl leans her head on his arm. Their faces get closer, almost touch. I lapse into mock sleep, it gets harder to breathe-

Relief comes with the slowing slide of the train floor. The crowd comes murmuring back to life, awakens at the dead-sounding, doorbell-ring. That familiar, detached voice, ignored. “Please do not lean against the train doors.”  Body heat. Someone’s sweat stained shirt. Someone shoves me from behind, and I almost fall in my high heels. Sweat drops. The tide swells and bursts as the train doors open, and I rush like a bat out of hell.

Passengers from reverse direction approaches. I blink and realise, It’s August.

Jostling,  a quickening of breath. Thoughts like muddy footsteps-

Fingertips brush against a soft, flowery sleeve. “Hey!”

I was the one who stopped her. Once again, I reached out into the rippling sea of people and snatched a slippery, golden fish.  Here she is, clothes trapped in my fingers again. I’m hoping she can’t feel how hot they are, blood burning under my skin like her vivid blush.

 

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In completion

prompt: Incomplete

Looking back at diary entries from a year ago, even just last week, I feel a 

dis     co n   n  ect  from the person I was then.

What are we but temporary beings, slices of a time-worm, coins of fat salami. Heartbeats  and jagged breaths simple echoes in the vastness of the universe.

Like deceptive stalagmites, or Yellowstone’s geyser-pitted landscape, we are constantly in

flux; your cells die and your dna shrinks and you change your mind

like a girl changes clothes

as long as you are alive right now. Maybe because we are fragile, and simple going through the world snips at our clothes, smashes our glass selves into pieces;

Maybe because we are weak, and we are hurt by words real and imagined;

 

Maybe because we hunger for life, and are constantly searching for people to share a connection with, friends to hold close, rattling our hearts like donation-tins, a penny for a penny, trading pennies-for-thoughts;

We are in-completion;

Maybe because we are more than rational beings, and apparently love makes us whole, ‘again’ (Plato 427-347 BCE), so we join and break and join and break with others like rabbits;

Maybe because we don’t want to forget, that’s the first time i failed, she left me, gor stabbed dad, and we clutch our pain to our chests like glass shards, and the vines of our garden get cut; so the grapes never crush a good wine;

We are incomplete;

Forgetting that, to leave your past behind, you need simply to exist; the current of time drags past you, simply blink, and the ocean before your eyes is never exactly as when you last saw it.

To move from incompleteness to in completion: don’t let others put you down, don’t lay piled up with regret; we are rebuilding ourselves as we speak.

name-shaped

Prompt: Say Your Name

My name…

  • has a religious connotation (yay!). My name basically dictates that I be a servant to our Father and bring him joy. Which I wouldn’t mind doing, except I don’t or should I say can’t share the same sense of belonging to the religion I was born in as my family anymore.
  • starts with ‘A’. (yup, Naomi isn’t my real name. Sorry.) Which means I’m always at the front of the class register. Always. I actually feel that this had a positive influence on me as I was forced to become more confident, outspoken, etc.

I wonder though, am I happy I was forced to be confident at an early age due to my personality, or is my personality due to being forced to be confident?

If our personality is shaped by our experiences, how much of our experiences are shaped by forces beyond our control? By the luck which runs like molten gold or computer system – pure mathematical variable?

In a parallel universe, how is my counterpart named Elizabeth or Samantha faring differently from me?

What effects do your name have on you?