Virtuosity 11.11

Where words become worlds…

Archive for the category “Short Stories”

Morning Rituals

15536022860_822668930cShelled pistachios on a porcelain plate – the salt still lingered on my tongue. Sweetened by honeyed kisses with traces of Moroccan mint and green tea, your lips curve into that knowing smile, slightly parted with breath that stirred the steam dragons wafting off of my coffee; you made them dance. They framed your face as you looked at me with a twinkle in your eye – as if you and the autumn morning shared a secret. Indeed, I touched your fingertips across the table, carefully splayed to hide the last answer to our daily Sudoku, and I leaned in, eager to listen. My heart opened to hear you, and with the soft brush of your warm lips against mine, you passed the secret over to me, reaching beyond the framing of simple words so that it could be fully felt and enjoyed. Together, we left the past, let go of the future, and unwrapped the present.



The Goddess of Self has skin made from silk, woven from threads placed by others.
Her ancient, silver scars shine through the thin, amorphous dress made from spoken words.
She sings when she speaks, and her presence is like the sound of fallen snow.
She walks barefoot on the earth – always touching, feeling, listening.
Stars sparkle in her flowing cobwebbed hair, carefully spun from the aether of experience by tiny white spiders.
She lives at the edge of dream and reality.
Time changes her with each step she makes, so that she is never the same.
When you gaze into her luminous eyes, you will see your own reflection.

Ulysses’s Wife

 I like to participate in Crap Mariner’s 100 Word Story Challenge.  It always seems to me like my stories tend to be darker than most, but I still do enjoy writing them.  The topic for this story was “anchor.”  The topic for next week’s challenge is “adventure,” if you want to give it a try!


Ulysses’s Wife

Psychiatrists, medications, and drunken stupors culminated to hours of unfeeling; sits in the dark, staring at the static of a no-stationed TV.  Broken bits of fine china lay strewn about like the thrown rice in the wake of their wedding.

She had to pee.

Her broken body protested as she rose from her chair, and made her way to the pier out back.  She left the dock in their boat, wearing her wedding dress and his barn jacket; the pockets were filled with rocks.

The water would hide the blood stains as she held the anchor, exhaled, and jumped.

Migraine Solace

Pain soaked bed and bloodied cave of my design.  My world, separated by a thin, sweat dampened blanket and the comforting stench of my own body protected me from the outside; but I had no solace from within.  Thoughts pool inside in my head like dying fish; silhouetted and choked by thick, polluted opium water.

I had to do it.

Hidden within that glutted school of piscine bodies were sharp toothed sharks with razored fins and venomous skin.  Their bites made deep, phantom gashes that tore at my head and rendered me helpless.  My vice.  My only solace.  My drugs.

Tenants to Utopia

Another one of my 100 word responses…


Do nothing,
Because change
Is scary. It’s a foray into the unknown that can threaten and harm.

Be silent,
Because when no one knows what you
It cannot be challenged.

Be normal,
Because being
Makes you vulnerable to criticism.

Listen to others,
Because your own
Have no value or worth.

Be ignorant,
Because knowing
Means you must do something, and that violates rule #1.

Be controlled.
Because acting out on your own
Makes you a threat.

Resist change
Because suffering
Is familiar.
It is what we are used to doing.

Keeping Promises

I started taking up the 100 Word Weekly Challenge on Laurence Simon’s bloggy.  This week’s challenge was “Always.”  Although I wrote two other pieces for this challenge, this one is my favorite.


Keeping Promises

The tumor on my back has grown so large that it hurts to even breath, much less move a muscle.  It feeds off of my body – dissolving tissues and draining my blood until I’ve nothing left.  Its weight, as it grows and grows, crushes my bones and leaves me a crippled husk.

This is the cost of my promise.  Years ago, when the tumor was broken and helpless, I gave way to pity, which became adoration.

“I promise that I will love and cherish you forever.  I will never leave you.”



I’m a person who keeps my promises.

Key to the Pearly Gates of Heaven

I started taking up the 100 Word Weekly Challenge on Laurence Simon’s bloggy.  This week’s challenge was “Guard.”  Hope you enjoy it!

The Key to the Pearly Gates of Heaven

I cut out my heart and placed it in a stone tower surrounded by high walls.  It was safely hidden inside a locked box; camouflaged by lucid dreams and harsh realities.  Fiercely guarded by fear and shielded from the world, it could never be hurt.  Time and apathy hardened my tower walls.

When I died, I prostrated my soul in front of Saint Peter’s gates and said, “Here!  Here, I have the key!”

I proudly took out my box, coveted for over a lifetime, and withdrew my heart.  It disintegrated in my hand; rotted from within through years of neglect.


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