Tag Archives: wordle

Jillian

 

For a brief moment, she stared into his eyes, a piercing Robin’s egg blue even in the dim streetlight.  She wondered how it was she found herself holding a switchblade against this man’s jugular vein.  Jillian knew there was no time to hesitate and so she made one quick, deep cut.

She wasn’t a violent person but she did what she had to do under pressure.  After all if one of them was going to die, today was not her day.  She still couldn’t believe she had been so careless as to let this man come so close to doing her harm. Yes, he had appeared gaunt and homeless, but she knew better than to discount anyone.  She had stopped to give him a couple dollars and then walked on without giving any thought to him behind her.   Never gave any thought that he might want rob her or that he might be compelled by lower, baser needs.  His looks had thrown her off but he had proven much more spry and strong than she could have imagined.  Before she knew what was happening he had grabbed her from behind, his arms surrounding her.  She had instinctively stomped on his foot and jerked her head back to bash him in the nose. That had allowed her to get free for a moment but before she could run away he was back on her overpowering her. He was hitting her and ripping at her clothes, making his intentions all too clear.  He hadn’t given up… and Jillian knew now that he was bigger and stronger than her.  As she felt him against her flesh she knew that a weapon was her only chance and so she had pulled the knife from her pocket.  Her friend’s voice echoed in her head “Don’t brandish your knife; only pull it if you intend to use it.”

Now that he was no longer a threat she pulled her tattered clothes around herself and her phone from her pocket and called 911.

~Melanie Thomason

04/08/2020

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Fair Trade

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

 

As children we are told tales of monsters

We learn to fear the unknown,

that otherness is bad

and blood is thicker than water

We’re taught that family is the most important thing

and that there is safety in numbers

But any child who has flailed helplessly to escape a brother’s grasp

or purchased sleep with rivers of tears

after enduring a thersitical mother’s ranting

or cried out under the blows from a father’s fists

knows that this is a fantasy

that being alone, that hiding

can sometimes save you

and that sometimes what is known

makes one long for distance

because what’s Out There

isn’t half as scary as home

Sometimes hanging at rope’s end

seems a fair trade for one’s turn at peace

~Melanie Thomason

3/02/2020

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Words Bite

 

I blink my eyes, baffled.

What happened to my sword?

Where have I placed my shield?

I swear my words had bite…

How am I to go into battle unarmed?

“What battle?” you ask

This endless parade of day to day

and on I must fight, so I hoist myself up

from this bog of self-doubt and despair,

my stinking thinking.

I gather my thoughts around me; my smelly armor

fragments

various tangled musings

traces of my soul.

Once whispered

will they shrink and float away

a feather?

Or will the phronesis be found

to see past this illusion

of papery fragility

and use our words

to Fight?!

~Melanie Thomason

2/26/2020

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Pink Lies (story/poems)

She was forged in this crucible of life

This crucible of grisly pink lies

Told not to question why

That men were right

And she would always be wrong

Taught to know she was less than

Simply because she was a she

She would never be an equal

Not even a reasonable facsimile

Of a man

You see it all goes back to

This origin story

Told by men

Of how woman was created

From man

For man

So therefore could never exist

Without man

And now girls are still taught this

That they need a man to complete them

That they should stand by their man

That they are property

That they should obey

And to be extra sweet

And dripping kindness

To be nurturing

And self-less

To be defined only for what they are

And what they do for others

Daughter

Wife

Mother

She rejected this claustrophobic version of a “life”

That was hammered into her

Since the first pink bonnet

Was placed on her head

 

Caroline

You say she is haggard

A hag, an old maid

Unwanted by man

And withering away

But you’re wrong

She didn’t find a man

Worthy of her

So she chose not to settle

Because she didn’t need a man

To complete her

And make no mistake

She is not alone

Or lonely

 

Melissa

You say she is easy

You say she is a slut

A whore

Because she enjoys the company of a man

Or men

Or women

Or anyone who isn’t you

Jealousy does not become you

and you are seeding a storm

That you may not see coming

Till hailstones rain upon you

Just like you spat your ugly words at her

 

Meghan

You say she is hard

You say she is a bitch

And you wonder what makes her

Gnash her teeth as she rejects

Your unwanted advances

You should be happy it isn’t your flesh

That she peels away as you flounder

And beg for mercy

 

~Melanie Thomason

2/20/2020

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Draped in Despair

He has suffered a thousand injuries

Both real and imagined

He has been draped so long in despair

That agony is now his comfort zone

Happiness and love he knows not

And so he pulls the sadness tightly around him like a cloak

Intermittent bursts of luminescent thought

Do little to crack through the tomb he has erected around himself

He has so often uttered his prayer for death

That the words are now stenciled upon his tongue

Mourning pours unbidden from his throat

He does struggle to choke it back, tries to wash it down

Hot tea with two lumps of Bradford sugar

Do nothing to assuage his sodden soul

~Melanie Thomson

2/11/2020

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without him

 

As a snowdrop bravely makes its Spring debut even whilst snow is on the ground

she knows she must surrender her reluctance to live again,

without him

she must push forward, she must elbow through

even if uncouth

she mustn’t let  memories of his charcoal eyes impede her discernment of others

though admittedly her heart is a mere sliver of what it once was

she is sagacious enough to know that she will be fine,

without him

With her face upturned in the morning sun,

she follows the dulcet tunes of Spring

with hope,

to start a new life

without him

~Melanie Thomason

2/05/2020

 

 

 

 

 

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Quartz – a very short story

Quartz had herself worked up into a fury!  Her mother had to know better by now… how could she still not know her at all? She would never wear that floral monstrosity with the puff sleeves.  Never!  She ran to the top of the stairs to proclaim, “I would rather shave off all my copper locks than wear this dress!   I would rather kiss the dog!  I would rather drive in an unyielding downpour while listening to old people talk about the weather and how such and such is in a fine fettle…!” (whatever that antiquated phrase meant)

And she meant it!  Quartz had the clippers in hand when her mother finally conceded.  She could go to the party in jeans and her favorite T-shirt.

And all was right in Quartz’s world again 🙂

~Melanie Thomason

1/30/2020

 

 

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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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