Coke or Pepsi

flash-fiction-badge1

Prompt: Look, somebody has got to make a decision.

Garry hated parties.

There was nothing wrong about them – he loved having company, but whenever Ella hosted a party, she always pushed the shopping to him. And the list was so long.

“Yeah?” Garry punched the accept button on his phone as it ringed loudly in the store.

“Coke.” The feminine voice on the other side of the line squeaked. Garry groaned.

“Again?” This had been the fourth time she called, unable to figure out whether to get Coke or Pepsi.

“Yes, I’m positive.”

“Wait wait wait wait… are you sure?”

“Well… I mean… I’m feeling for Coke right now…”

“And you felt for Pepsi two minutes before that and Coke five before.”

“Oh… Garry… You know how much I hate making decisions.” The voice became whiny.

“Are you trying to tell me to make the decision?”

“Can you do it for me?”

“No.” Garry promptly refused. “Last time I made a decision you almost tore apart our living room.”

“I… I… Well this is different, you know.”

“I’m not making to decision.”

“Well then get Coke.”

“Are you positive?”

“No.”

Garry sighed frustrated.

“Then why don’t we just get both and see which one we end up drinking?”

“No, Garry, that would be wasteful.”

“Wasteful? How would that be wasteful?”

“Because there are plenty of people out there who need the Pepsi more than we do.”

“Than give it to them.”

“But…”

“But what?”

“Actually, you know what? Get the Pepsi.”

“What? You just said Coke!”

“I meant Pepsi. You know what I mean.”

“No I don’t.”

“Garry…”

“Make a decision now.”

“Can’t you do it for me?”

“No! I already told you I can’t!”

“Ugh, Garry! You don’t know how much I want to slap you right now.”

“I do know. You want to slap me a lot.”

The line went quiet.

“Fine, get Coke.”

“Ella…”

“I said Coke!”

“Ok. Bye, I’m not taking anymore requests.”

Garry hung up and turned off his phone, grabbing Coke off the shelves and left the store. Hell knows what kind of shit he was going to go through at home.

Advertisements

The fibber does not lie

I consider myself a chronic fibber. Now mind you, a fibber is not a liar. In fact, I am quite far from being a chronic liar. It would be very unfortunate if I were (and you wouldn’t know anyways cuz I’d just lie about it).

So what’s the difference?

1. Fibbing

You’re friends are talking recently about their extreme sports experiences. Anna just jumped out of a plane and her parachute almost didn’t dispatch (if that’s the word for it). Kaitlyn’s parents let her climb a 1000 foot mountain without any safeties. AND your bestest friend Garry went splunking and almost couldn’t get out.

So now they’re all turning to you, waiting for you to share your all too amazing experience.

The first thing you think of is, Oh shit. You have no wonderful experience. You spent your entire time holed up at home staring at pictures of Thailand and wishing you could be there. Of course, you’re not rich enough to actually go there, but there’s no need to mention that.

Now here is when the fibber comes alive.

“Actually, I went to the Yellowstone.” You say with a smile, thinking back to the first time you went there.

“No way, again?”

“Yup.” You nod.

Your friends never asked you about that trip before and you have lots of details that you could borrow from there. For example, a wild fire. There was no need to explain that the details of this trip actually happened three years ago.

“I saw a wild fire.”

“That’s crazy! Did you guys almost get burned alive?”

You play along. They made the suggestion.

“Almost. There was so much smoke. It was starting to get into the car and we were all coughing and stuff.”

“That’s so dangerous! Didn’t they like block the area off or something?”

“Yeah they did, but that was after we had already drove into the fire area. God, I thought we were going to die. We almost even lost the road.”

“Man… I’m jealous.”

“Ha ha, just kidding though. This happened like three years ago.”

“Really? Why didn’t you tell us?”

What a fib.

2. Lying

You’re attempting a certain type diet that your parents most certainly do not approve of. It consists of eating only in between meals, which is totally bizarre, but your desperate to lose a few pounds even though your friends call you “the stick”. It’s dinner time and you once again wish to skip it.

“I’m not hungry mom.” You say, rolled your eyes. Your mother looks concerned, like all mothers are and you can tell she wants to sit you down and ask what’s wrong. But she holds the question back.

“Alright, but no snacks then. You’re skipping too many meals, I have a feeling you’re eating too many snacks.”

“Alright mom.” You get the feeling of being seen completely through, but in the end, your mom is still only speculating. She would never know the real reason behind why you were eating all those snacks.

You slip back up to your room where you have a huge stash of granola bars and veggie chips. This is quite simply a lie.

3. What’s the difference?

A fib is a somewhat of a joke. It’s a lie, but it’s a guided lie in which afterwards, you admit that you weren’t telling the truth. It’s put there as a way to guide the conversation away from a certain awkward topic that you have trouble contributing to. But not only do you admit afterwards, the lie itself must be a harmless lie. Simply put, saying that you went to a million dollar sky diving program is not a harmless lie, because you’re being irresponsible and putting a lot of pressure on your parents. 

Lying is dangerous. It’s made to be like a spider web. Once you’ve caught someone in your web of lies, you’ve got no choice but to weave it tighter and tighter until nothing can get through it. But even then, the most simple shard of glass can break it. Webs are vulnerable, hard to maintain, and harmful.

So now you know. I fib. Do you?

The Eternal Pain

To feel the pain of a trapped mind,
To rap the bars of an enclosed soul,
To search the hole of a broken heart,
An eternal pain it is.
 
A word can hurt; insults sting.
Nothing does more than those unseen.
The damage unknown, not fixed, kept alive.
The pain remaining, bleeding, and scarring.
 
What have I done wrong? What mistake have I made?
Have you some grudge against me unknown?
What is that I am, you hate to your heart?
So much that your trust does not come to me?
 
Your words hurt me, like an arrow to heart.
You’ll never know how hurt I am.
You’ll think I’m selfish, weak and dumb.
You won’t ever know what I truly feel.
 
A life of mis-communication,
So many things gone wrong.
I don’t how to express my words,
In person I feel suppressed.
 
You say that I can speak my mind,
But never have you told me,
What terrible consequences that might come,
And I still don’t know them yet.
 
Do you think I can overcome the fear?
I fear that I cannot.
Will you give me the courage I need?
I wish that you could.
 
The pain of misunderstanding,
Is a pain hard to fix.
And even as it heals,
A scar remains in place.

Long Time No See

I feel like it’s been a long time since I’ve actually written a legitimate blog post. So I’m gonna write one. Oh fun.

I really need to get this idea out to the world even though I barely have any followers and of those followers, I have barely any who actually check out my blog. So here we go.

I’m starting another blog. Not right now of course. I’m currently dying of schoolwork and everything. I’ve never been a heavy sleeper, especially on cars, but lately, I’ve been spending all two hours of my car ride to and back from school sleeping. So you know how tired I’ve been lately.

Ideally, this blog (called Thomas Wrote An Essay) would be a critique blog for people to post their work and get critiques on. But that wouldn’t work unless I have a large audience. Which I don’t have. So I’ve decided that I best start is small. If you’d like to pop in and check it out, I’m happy to give you access to it. (It’s currently set as private.) Feel free to send in something, and we can all read and critique.

Originally I wasn’t going to release this idea until when I got as least 100 followers. But I’m getting impatient so I’ve set a date. Thomas Wrote An Essay (aka TWAE) will officially be letting people in on May 1st, (right after Camp NaNo!)

If you’d like to check it out, just fill out the form below and I’ll give you access to it on May 1st.

For more info, you can check out the TWAE page.

A Deceptive Mind: Chapter 1.10

The last part of Chapter 1! Chapter 2 starts next week. 

Charlotte was walking back from a stroll around the palace when she stopped abruptly at the sound of footsteps in front of her. She looked up and studied the angry prince’s face for a moment.

“You’re blocking my way.” She replied flatly. Hanto crossed his arms.

“You can walk around me.”

“You can also stop blocking my way.”

Hanto shoved her backwards against the wall in rage, his face red with anger.

“Listen girl, I don’t care what my father thinks of you, but you have no right to be roaming in the Hyang palace. I want you to stay out of my way. Or else…” The hinted idea was obvious. “You know what will happen.”

Hanto almost half-expected Charlotte to gulp, but her face remained as stony as before, pushing his loosening grip away.

“It’s good to know that the Prince of the Hyang Empire likes to give out empty threats.”

Hanto reached up to grab her again, but she dodged his hand and slipped around him.

“It’s not nice the grab people.” She sneered before she ran off, too quick for Hanto to catch.

Guest Blogging!

My friend BBK was kind enough to allow for my the write an uber long blog post on words on (oh god, I hate assuming genders) her(?) blog, The Big Blog of Knowledge. So here I link it so that more people see it. Because I wrote my heart out. And it’s long so I actually spent time one it. Plus… uh… I don’t know. I’m cool. That’s why you should read it.

Just a little shameless self promotion here.

Uh, what?

Just as I was about forget about Project AWOL’s seeming interest in me, I suddenly get two more AWOL followers. God. Will you guys ever stop bothering me? I’ve made myself a promise. If I see anything on anyone’s blog that has to do with make money blogging, I will cyber slap them and then never come back again.

But now, for some reason, I’m also attracting the love of “I Love Latinas”? Ok, thank you for your interest as well in my day to day ramblings, but if you were to actually spend a little time looking at the header of my blog, you’d realize that I am in fact not Latina. I am no where near Latina. Other than the fact that I have dark hair, I look nothing like a possible Latina. What makes you think that I’m just going to like your Facebook page? Especially since you’ve followed me twice via 2 blogs that both only have 1 post on liking your Facebook page. Uh, nothing against Latinas but seriously? You guys are making your ethnic group look bad.

But on the bright side, I have more followers.

I like large numbers.

365 Day Challenge, Un-invent it!, 2/21/14

Prompt: If you could un-invent something, what would it be? Discuss why, potential repercussions, or a possible alternative.

Alright. I liked this prompt so I’m gonna answer it.

If I could un-invent something, I’m totally un-invent the gun and cannon and all similar things. What’s so bad about knives or bow and arrows? Guns are so unnecessarily dangerous, not to mention wars today are so seriously boring.

You can blow someone’s brains out if you have a gun. You can’t just stab someone’s skull with a knife and expect it to go in without having some arm strength first. Shootings are so much more dangerous and “knife-out”s. You can easily kill or fatally wound someone with a gun, but you’re a lot more likely to die from loss of blood than from the actual knife wound. Plus, you’ve got more of a chance to survive a knife attack.

Wars used to be fought hand to hand. People would ran across a plain and slash at each other. If you had some skill, you would survive. It was literally survival of the fittest at it’s extreme. But now, with these guns, you just prop up, load, aim and shoot and hope that someone else hasn’t aimed a bullet at you. It’s unfair because you literally can’t see a bullet flying at you. There’s no such thing as dodging a bullet like dodging a knife. There’s simply shot or not shot.

I’ve got more to say. I hate guns. But this will be enough for the day.

A Death of Relief

flash-fiction-badge1

Prompt: Three people walk in a bar after an earthquake

A Death of Relief

“You haven’t-”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing what?”

“I said nothing.”

They sit down at the table. Or what once was a table.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing!”

The second man slams down his fist.

“Why don’t you finish your sentences anymore?”

He is met by silence as the first man looks down. It continues until the door creaks open, letting in a haggled figure. Another man.

“Looks like I’m not alone.” The third man glances at the other two men gruffly, sitting down at their table uninvited. Dust racks up around them and the first man coughs slightly.

The third watches them intently before he reveals the bottle in his hand.

“You two didn’t expect to find a bartender here did you?”

“A bartender?” The two men both look up surprised.

“This is a bar.”

“Nonsense.” The first man replies.

“Blasphemy.” The second man agrees. “We are proper men.”

The third man laughs, shaking the table. He glances at them.

“You don’t look like proper men.” He pops the bottle open and places three wine glasses he seemed to have whizzed out of nowhere down on the table. “Lucky you, I brought extras.”

Pouring out three glasses, the man slides two towards the them.

“A toast to surviving.”

The two men look skeptical at first, wondering if they should touch the glasses or not. But the deep magenta liquid eventually caves their will and they each take a gulp.

“A toast to surviving.” They nod to the third man who is smiling now.

“That’s more like it.” He says, taking another swig. “So tell me, what is your story?”

“Our story?” Both men look surprised at the question, not understanding what it means.

“The earthquake.”

“Oh.” They both remain silent. The third man waits patiently until the second man speaks up.

“I lost my home, all my money. Most of my family were safe, but we’re as poor as hell and starving.” He stops short, unable to proceed. The first man rests a hand on his shoulder, but keeps silent.

“And you?” The third man looks directly at the first man.

“I- I- d-don’t know what happened.” He mutters. The third man shakes his head, leaning back against his chair.

“I’ll tell you what happened to me then.” Both men nod eagerly. “I had a wife. She was a lovely creature. Her hair, her eyes, her voice. Everything was just so great and beautiful. I adored her. She was my everything. When we got married, I spent all I could to give her what she wanted. After our marriage, I tried my best to fulfill her. She wouldn’t allow for children. She thought they were annoying and getting pregnant would ruin her physique. Oh, how I adore children…” The man sighs. “Well, how unfortunate that it is for my wife to be lost in the earthquake, but I only feel relief. Do you understand?”

Both men nod reflexively.

“Now can you tell me your story?”

The first man nods and begins.