Prefontaine and Main

DAILY PROMPT

Forbidden

Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.

dress

Simone Bassi was waiting for the crosswalk light to change when he heard a woman say from behind him, ” I wonder what it feels like to kill someone.”

Prefontaine and Main Street was always busy at lunch time- what with the office people who were packed into the buildings that had blotted out the skyline years ago and the trains always pulled in at the Prefontaine Station at a quarter to noon every single day of the week.

Simone was going to ignore her, not even turn around. He figured if he did all he would see  would be someone on drugs or coming off of drugs or needing drugs.

“It’s not that I haven’t tried. I have. I just don’t feel much of anything when I do it. That’s why I’m asking.”

Simone turned around with the most annoyed expression he could muster.

The woman talking about killing people wasn’t the person Simone thought she was.

She was a lady.

Her hair was neatly coiled on top her head, her makeup was soft and artfully applied, her dress was simple and black.

“I’ve done so many wicked things-” she whispered, ”  the thing of it is, I’m just not good at it.”

The crosswalk light invited them to walk.

Simone was rooted to the spot. ” I’ve never tried to kill anyone before…

” Esme. My name is Esme Keavy.”

” I would’t do anything like that Esme Keavy.”

The cross light flashed red and then green and when it flashed red again Esme shoved  Simone Bassi from the curb and under a bus- the one of many buses that crowded the street at this time of the day.

Esme watched Simone pop open under the big black wheels and in the excitement that always follows a moment like this,  Esme reached down and found Simone Bassi”s wallet.

She took Simone’s ID from out of his wallet and dropped it into her purse. Then Esme flung his wallet over her shoulder and it sailed into a trash can that was painted bright blue with trees around the sides.

” I’m bad at what I do” she said to the ruined mess that had been Simone Bassi.

” I’m wicked bad”

Carmilla’s Cupcakes

 

B/W CUPCAKES

Daily Prompt

Darkness

Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.

” So what are we supposed to do now?” Rowan Ready asked his friend Hadley Hanson.

They were sitting against the wall on a broken wooden bench- down the wall from where the operating theatre used to be.

Abandoned Hospital or not, The Van Blomgren  Institution for the Criminaly Insane still smelled slightly antiseptic and when the breeze from the outside whispered down the halls- of which there were many in Van Blomgren you could still smell bleach too.

Hadley said. ” Wait I guess. I don’t know. I’ve never been on one of these things before. Want a cupcake? My wife made them for me. She’s not a bad baker you know.”

Hadley showed the plastic container to Rowan. ” They’ve got black icing.” Rowan said cautiously.

” I think the frosting is cherry flavored. Go on. Take one.”

” Will it turn my teeth black?”

” Nope. Green. Don’t ask me why.”

Rowan took a cake, peeled the wrapper off popped it into his mouth and dropped the wrapper on the floor. Mid-chew he pointed at his mouth, nodded and gave Hadley a ‘thumbs up’.

” So this is what Ghost Hunters do- ” Rowan said after he swallowed Carmilla’s – pretty darn good cupcake-. Not a bad gig. You just show up, take a few pictures yell into a bunch of empty rooms and call it a day.”

” Yep. ”

” I’ll be. Here. Give me another one of those. So what’s up with the Operating Theatre then? Why all the interest in that?”

Hadley leaned over and whispered into his friend’s ear, ” Unnecessary surgery. Lots and lots of unnecessary surgeries.”

” Jesus.”

” Poor bastards. It had been a mercy if they had died, but the Doc and his wife knew their stuff. And on they went.”

All of the sudden the Surgery doors flew open, Rowan and Hadley each took another cupcake and they watched as a youngish man in a tight red t-shirt screamed into the hallway around him, ” Where are you, you bitch? Where are you Carmilla? Poisoning more people like you did to your husband and his friend? The neighbors children?”

‘ She didn’t do that one.” Hadley said to Rowan. She was meaner then a snake but she was no child killer.”

” It’s justice you evil vicious bitch…justice that you ended up in  Doctor Benini’s Operating room getting your brain cut up. Can you hear me?”

Hadley was transfixed, he chewed slowly his eyes were open wide. ” Hell. I could listen to this guy go on all day.”

‘ Really. The Doc cut up her brain?” Rowan asked

” Nah. He cut her head off and tried to sew it back on again. Close though. Hey. She came around for a minute after. So it almost worked”

Hadley stood up looked into the empty plastic container and said, ” Those were good. Let’s go to the kitchen and ask Carmilla to whip us up another batch.”

” Minus the poison would be nice.” Rowan said.

” Doesn’t make any difference to us now does it? Plus, it’ makes her happy you know. Doing what she loved doing before. We all need to remember we had that.”

They walked passed the youngish man in the tight t-shirt, around a woman holding a video camera that didn’t even have a battery in it and around the camera man with the camera that worked who was filming them all.

It was the woman with the dummy camera who asked her fellow Ghost Hunters, ” Can you smell that? I smell cherries.”

” Hey Verna, could you say something like, can you smell that? What is that god awful blah, blah, blah.”

Rowan and Hadley, shrouded in the deeping  darkness of The Van Blomgren  Institution for the Criminaly Insane ,  made their down the hall and to the cafeteria and the smell of freshly baked cupcakes.

poison

 

 

 

The Evesdropper

Layers

Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.

Photo: A.M Moscoso

Photo: A.M Moscoso

Oliver Simon was waiting for his bus on Larch and Fifth when he heard two angry voices drifting over the tall hedges. He wanted to turn around and to see the argument in action but he couldn’t- that would be rude.

So he stayed very still and listened instead:

” It’s so crowded here, and we’re all packed in tight as sardines in a tin, you can hardly take a breath Innes”

Oliver assumed it was Innes who answered, ” I’m sorry. You know how it is.”

” You can’t keep doing this to us. Packing us in like this, it’s dehumanizing.”

” I said I’m sorry Mrs. Brody. I’ve said it a million times. But there’s  nothing I can do. “

” Take…”

” Mr Longmire.”

” Take Mr Longmire somewhere else. It’ so crowded here. I swear we can hardly take a decent breath anymore.”

Oliver thought that sounded pretty awful. The bus was crowded most of the time and God knows he hated sharing a seat.

” I really wish you’d stop saying that.” Innes said.

” Eight of us, there are eight of us in here. Now it’ nine. Are you going to go for an even dozen? Why not Innes? Why not a dozen?”

Oliver hated sitting next to anyone- no matter what he put on the seat next to him and no matter how far he spread his legs apart somebody always insisted on him moving himself and his stuff to make room for them when they were clearly not wanted, not invited to share Oliver’s space.

The world was full of jerks.

” Because, there is room, Mr Longmire is going to be your neighbor and…”

” We can hardly take a decent breath, we-“

Oliver heard Innes slam something into the ground with a thud  ” You’re dead, you haven’t taken a breath in 25 years. Now quit complaining and go back to sleep will you?”

 

Infernally Yours

Autonomy

Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Every doubt, every scar, every insult, every hurt, every injustice every demon.

I was told to overcome them, banish those demons- put them behind me, bury them, shove them into a room and lock the door and throw away the key.

Go ahead and build and fashion with my own two hands a room where the air is chilled by despair, lit by anger and every square inch, every corner of that cavernous room is crammed full of bones, twisted shadows and the torn and bloody remains of  every me who ever was in doubt, ever injured, ever insulted or dealt an injustice.

The crying the half breaths and the whispering and shouting into nothingness would never end in that room- does anybody know that?

Why doesn’t that matter?

stuck

Create a Hell is the advice I get,  create a hell shut the door, lock it and throw away the key.

I can see myself standing in front of the door. I can feel the coldness, hear the despair. I can see the handle being frantically turned and worked from the other side.

I should lock that door, throw away the key and walk away from that door…

Or I could open the door, walk inside and

embrace what I find there and make it my own.

scary-mirror-1

 

The Unquiet Door

For this week’s challenge, publish a post — any kind of post, be it fiction, nonfiction, poetry, photography, illustration, video, or anything else — inspired by this line:

It was the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Photo A.M Moscoso

Photo A.M Moscoso

It was the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last

I would hear a knock

on the door

at

the end of the hall.

Photo: A.M Moscoso

Photo: A.M Moscoso

It was the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last

I would hear the door

at the end of the hall

open and close

on it’s own

with a click.

Photo: A.M. Moscoso

Photo: A.M. Moscoso

There will be a first time

and it will be the last time

I open the door

at the end of the hall

and walk through it

forever.