Tag Archives: wordle

Dearest Reader

Dearest Reader,

Whilst I am indeed euchred I felt that I owed it to you to pen this tale before I succumb to sleep’s waiting embrace.  I couldn’t cheat you out of it after all this time.

As you know, gentle reader, I have searched far and wide for the specimen we refer to as a perfect man.  A theory had begun to take shape that no such thing existed.  Well, I have to report to you that just last week I found one that may prove to be perfect at long last.  Granted, I only have a cluster of experiences to base this on, but he is looking promising.

Devoted reader, you must believe me when I say that he is intelligent and charming.  He is funny, sexy and kind.  I know, I know it sounds impossible but he is an animal lover and has told me great tales of his protection and support of women and children.  In fact he doesn’t even consider us as a “weaker sex”, he views women as equal to men, NAY, superior to men! 

I’m cognizant that it appears I’m being taken for a ride, so I shall keep my head on a swivel to ensure that I am not being snookered and in turn deceiving you dear reader. 

Did I mention that at the lightest touch from him my senses runaway from me? My pulse quickens and my cheeks flush red as a ripe strawberry.  My temperature rises when I feel his smoldering gaze upon me.  He is every good part of every man rolled into one, he is sex personified….ahem, pardon me gentle reader, as I contain myself. 

Anyway, as I was saying, it will (I assure you) be my pleasure to spend as much time as necessary with him to verify a valid conclusion. I’ll report back with my findings.  Don’t be alarmed if it takes a while.

Yours truly,

Mythomane

 

~Melanie Thomason

1/20/2020

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

FYI:

Euchred- utterly done in or at the end of one’s tether; exhausted.
Mythomane- a person with a strong or irresistible propensity for fantasizing, lying, or exaggerating.

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Ethan

Ethan was having a hard time holding his tongue.  He’d been holding it for about 20 years already and he knew if he started speaking his mind things would go to shit quickly.  He took an angry drag from his cigarette instead and slowly exhaled.  Rather than looking at his father as he continued his tirade, about how he was wasting his life and would never amount to anything, he focused on his reflection in the hallway mirror.  He was looking kind of haggard and could definitely use a shave.  He didn’t need to listen as he’d heard it all before and his art was not a waste of time no matter what the old man thought.

If he could just maintain his poise and deal with his thoughts alone he knew he could wait this out.  “Alone,” Ethan thought, “well that’s the rub isn’t it?  I’ve always been alone.” Growing up with no mother and a negligent father had made sure of that.  His father had never had time for him, never taken an interest really until now that he was softly knocking on death’s door.  Ethan knew that as an only child, he was set to inherit everything if he could just keep his damn mouth shut.

Not that he cared about the grand old house or the fancy cars… he would sell those off.  He just wanted the funds so that he could finally really search for her.  If he could only find her, he was sure she could untangle at least some of the lies he had been fed his entire life.  He had never met his Aunt Katrina but he was sure she could tell him the truth about his mother.  He had quietly been searching for her, with his limited resources, without his father finding out but so far there were no traces of her.  Ethan had to know what happened, it was imponderable to him that his mother had simply left him there and never looked back.

He had been so lost in thought that he didn’t even realize that his father had come to an end of his scintillating monologue and was impatiently awaiting a response until he heard, “Ethan!” “You worthless shit, I asked you a question, have you even been listening?”  Ethan looked at his father blankly and lit another cigarette.

~Melanie Thomason

01/13/2020

 

Wordle 163.png

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Spring Cleaning- a short story

 

As Jason was cleaning out the hall closet he recognized her scarf there on the floor in the back corner.  He didn’t think there were any  of her things left.  With a muffled sob he picked it up, intending to throw it in the “to donate” box, but he found himself holding it to his face breathing in the faint smells of honeysuckle and of her that still clung to the crimson fabric.  He knew at once that he must preserve this last indelible piece of her.  Jason tiptoed into his studio so that his new bride wouldn’t hear and placed the scarf in a plastic bag so as to contain the wonderful scent.  He looked around for a place to hide it away from prying eyes. His studio was filled with her.  The sadness that was always simmering under the surface came bubbling up and he allowed himself to cry just a little for his lost love.  His gaze flitted from portrait to portrait and even to his clumsy attempt to carve her beauty in alabaster and then he saw it.  He affixed her scarf to the back  of the last photograph he taken of her, he had had it blown up and printed on canvas, it was perfect as was she.

~Melanie Thomason

1/12/2020

 

Image by Florin Radu from Pixabay

 

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The Edge

always on the edge

of elsewhere

yet i’m ill equipped

for entry

into the ethereal

for it is not enough

to erase evil thoughts

even if they are exoteric

and emulation proves exhausting

which is exactly the point

~Melanie Thomason

10/20/18

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invisible arabesques

The promise I had made myself to resist him

was as insincere and insecure as a granny knot

Already, I could feel the blush rising to my cheeks,

feel my blood simmering, my breath quickening

as his finger slowly swirled and looped

drawing invisible arabesques up my bare leg

he dared to proceed up beneath my skirt’s hem,

dawdling there on my inner thigh

devilishly defeating my defenses

willing myself not to clutch at his hand

and urge it higher still

I closed my eyes,

felt them pulsing there within their sockets

and took slow, measured breaths

as his fingers traced the patterns in reverse

~Melanie Thomason

9/11/2017

 

 

 

 

 

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parallel

I’m pleased to know that in this parallel reality

I no longer tend to fade into your background

in fact I am a strongly desired commodity

you may think its all smoke and mirrors

but i tell you people are downright awestruck

you are too if you were to tell the truth

though you don’t have the nerve to spill it

~Melanie Thomason

6/6/17

 

 

 

 

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