Tag Archives: short story

Things you may not know about Papa Noel, Santa or St. Nick…

You think you know Santa? Here is a story that might have you rethinking that. Enjoy this dark tale by Gigi 🙂

Rethinking Life

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Picture from: Pinterest

You think you know me, but you do not.  You make up stories about me and believe they are true, but they are not.  You mold me into what you wish me to be but I tell you, you know me not.  You give me names that suit you, suit your fiction and your beliefs, but do you ever wonder who I truly am?  Do you ask yourself what I am?

Humans are funny creatures, thinking that believing makes it so.  I can assure you that nothing is farther from the truth.  Outside of your slanted and tiny belief system are wonders untold.  Layers of life you are blind to, by choice and by circumstance.  You turn away from the things that do not fit into your story but those things do not disappear, they live on without your consent or acknowledgement.

Names have power, I will…

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Johnny unfiltered

I once knew a Vet named Johnny

that is to say

I made his acquaintance

I’d wager no one really knew him

not after the war

he came back different

as many do

he rarely ever spoke

and never about the things he had seen or done

we worked for the same company for a time

though I don’t know what he did there

all I know is that his office was always cloudy with smoke

from his habitually chain smoking unfiltered  Pall Malls

we weren’t friends

in fact I doubt he even knew my name

our encounters were usually limited

to meeting at the office coffee pot

till that one night

 

that one night

after closing

after everyone had gone

I stopped by the Circle K next door

before starting my walk home

as i was walking by our building

a man from my past

who refused to take no for an answer

stepped out from the shadows

with threats to end my life

we threw obscenities at each other

and he threw a couple punches

but I was holding my own

till he pulled out a crowbar

just as he was raising it above his head to strike

I saw headlights and heard the screech of tires

with the car still running and the door flung wide open

Johnny was out of his car

and in one fluid motion had taken the crowbar away

I looked on in awe and disbelief

as he proceeded to beat him bloody

Johnny never said a word

never broke a sweat

and never dropped the lit Pall Mall

from between his lips

When it was over

all I could say was

“Thank You”

but I’m not sure if he heard

cause he just got back in his car

and drove away

 

 

 

 

 

 

~Melanie Thomason

 

 

 

 

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Gaylord

Gaylord was lonely

not alone mind you

as a member of the royal family

he was well liked and sought after

after all  money and title are attractive things

but he cried out for

the one

she, who would know his soul

he did try to find her

dating the town’s daughters

of the right age

desperately, feverishly

smart, dull, slender, plump, short, tall

he dated them all

but alas she was not among them.

Gaylord was no Geppetto

nor a Dr. Frankenstein

really he was more of a dandy

a pretty, yet fairly useless man

i never understood why he felt deserving

of this mysterious, wonderful she

anyway back to Gaylord

he decided if he couldn’t find her

he would make her

and as he had no scientific training

nor even basic carpentry skills

he decide to use his talents as a master confectioner

yes, it’s true marzipan was usually

used to fashion

diminutive fruits and vegetables

yet, in a stroke of madness genius

he thought it the perfect medium

In his kitchen he donned an apron

to protect his exquisite

coat with blue velvet tails

and he sculpted her soft face

from the almond paste

and what happened next

 

was strange indeed

if fact my friends

you will not believe

for such things

you cannot conceive

so really it may be best to stop here

why continue in vain

this tale of love, madness and marzipan?

~Melanie Thomason

 

 

 

 

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Cell Memory

there-

do you see it? look! look harder

you gotta kinda squint your eyes and let go

let the focus slide a little off and look with you soul

with the wide red eyes of your heart

now

LOOK

do you see?

do you SEE?

i dreamed of you and that is the scary part

it’s not just that you’re you and you’re beautiful

it’s that you are so aptly suited to me

like i couldn’t have built you better

sometimes, oh, sometimes i think i am so STUPID —

so stupid to let myself get into this mess

but i’ve been living it for so long i don’t know what else to do or how else to be

sometimes,  oh sometimes,  i wonder

it is to you, but i won’t let you read this because it doesn’t mean anything

and you don’t need to know

it’s all been to someone

all of it

it’s always been aimed somewhere

just happens to be you — this time

which is to say —

it’s the most real thing in the world

but in the end it is less about you

and more about me because when you’re gone

i will still have my words

me and my Words

a match made somewhere on the rim of hell

oh, and i don’t even know what i’m blathering about anymore

it’s all gotten lost in the translation from thought to tongue to paper

it is all lost

and i’m

lost

LOST

if I keep this up I’m gonna say something I can’t take back

going to confess some terrible rhyme

one of these days you’ll take your hair down and it will kill me

i don’t know how to explain but i have this THING for hair

for long dark hair on long white men

it’s something older than time and a memory in my cells

some THING that makes my soul ache

i am ample distraction

if i sit here long enough

maybe i’ll sprout roots

maybe i’ll grow on you

(sounds like a threat to me — better run!)

(come undone)

(better do it, now –or else)

when you opened the door did you expect to find me?

do you know what you are looking at?

do you know me and will you hear my name?

i don’t ask or offer because i don’t want to be turned down

even gracious objection is wounding enough on its own

without the killing pain of outright refusal

but — you KNOW, now you know, i told you and you still talk to me like i’m a human being —

that is something

something i wouldn’t have had the guts for a year ago

do you ever wonder at the tide of time?

do you wonder as the candy-man plinks coins off the links in my spine?

not like that, not like it was but as it will be

future imperfect, the residual of years of languages —

wild

feral

bestial

Queen

oh the things

you might have been

i couldn’t let it be a secret, not this time, you’re too you for me to have suffered in silence

where is this going?

is it at an end —

oh gods

i don’t know

how to end

i never have

that’s my curse

and gift i guess

this mobius strip of endless dithering

i think i must

stop

now

or else

it’s time

now

for my date

with

Death

~Melanie Blackwell

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