A/N: A sonnet called Dandelion Girl.
If you were a flower you’d be the dandelion.
It’s not that you’re not beautiful.
It’s not that you’re not wanted.
Nor that I don’t think you unusual.
But you are no feeble rose.
Who needs me to thrive.
If I did not want you, you’d still live.
And if I were to leave, you’d still strive.
You are the dandelion of flowers,
And that’s why I love you.
Your strength, your will to live,
Through concrete you grew.
And I’m wondering, my dandelion girl, if you might love me too.
And we will be two dandelions entwined, the same and yet new.
A/N: A quick flash fiction.
Every year Eleanor Perry divorced her husband.
It was always around the middle of May, at the stroke of noon. It was true that midnight would have been more dramatic, but she honestly didn’t feel like having to stay up.
Eleanor loved her husband almost as much as she hated him. He was infuriating in every sense of the word. It was one thing that he was always mocking her, always embarrassing her and always making her feel like a little child – all of this she could forgive.
What she couldn’t forgive was how much he loved her.
He never tried to hide it. He was as brutally honest about his love for her as he was about everything else. He seemed to think it the greatest joke of his life.
“I want a divorce,” she said as she barged into the living room, and Roger looked up with his familiar sardonic smile. He was sitting alone, smoking one of those hated Cuban cigars that made the entire living room smell for days. He had been expecting her.
Continue reading The Anniversary Game
A/N: Another Friday gone by, another story written in the very last minute… enjoy!
“I got the job,” I told my dad as soon as I had started the car.
He grinned at me, pride evident in his face, and I smiled back at him, equally proud of myself. I had wanted to be an artist ever since I was a little girl, and my dad had always supported by ambitions. As a single father he’d had a hard time, and working two jobs to pay for my tuition at the School of Art didn’t help. Thankfully I’d gotten a part scholarship. Otherwise there was no way a blue collar like my dad could ever afford it no matter how hard he worked. My job at the local book store hadn’t paid off that much either.
My mother had died when I was pretty young, and I was used to it just being my dad and I. We’d scraped by. We hadn’t gotten everything we wanted in life, far from it, but we’d survived. And now our hard work was finally paying off.
“Can you believe it?” I asked him. “Christopher is one of the biggest names in the world of art. Like, at all. To be his assistant is huge, I mean; I know it’s not my own collection or anything, but it’ll get my name out there, you know? In a couple of years my name is going to be known. Not world-renowned, but known. And I can finally make more than a few bucks of my art.”
Continue reading Dad
A/N: I actually wrote something! Even though it wasn’t particularly long… but write it I did!
“Today’s the day,” Matilda announced.
“Today’s the day for what?” Jerry asked.
“I’m not sure,” Matilda said. “But surely it must be the day for something?”
Jerry merely yawned. By now he was getting pretty used to Matildas eccentricities. “It could be the day for doing nothing?” he suggested. A nap did sound nice.
Matilda sent him a withering look. “No. Today’s something special. It has to be.”
“Because yesterday wasn’t.”
Continue reading Yet Another Special Day