Written for Thursday Inspiration #310 –
“Oh Sherrie”. Here’s my response.
Tag: Desperation
Abandoned
Written for Muse on Monday where David asks us
to write a story about facing a situation, a dilemma
where there isn’t necessarily a right answer.
Here’s were the prompt took me.
Continue reading “Abandoned” Quiet Desperation
Written for OLWG #418.
The prompts appear below.
This is my story.
Just An Average Junkie
Alright, alright, alright!
It’s time once again for a Six Sentence Story,
this time incorporating the word ‘remote’.
Here’s mine, with a few other prompts just for fun.
The reflection of my timeworn face in the bathroom mirror is harrowing, one I still can’t accept is me .… someone who was always strikingly attractive, impeccably dressed with my designer labels neatly tucked away and out of sight; these days I see only one person on a regular basis and he doesn’t give a shit what I look like as long as I have the money to pay him.
There’s that old twitch in my left eye, an unwelcome reminder that a killer headache and nausea are about to overtake me if I don’t eat some Skittles, a much more socially acceptable term than that hushed-up, dirty little name that makes all the so-called ‘well-adjusted’ people cringe as though in the presence of a leper; fucking hypocrites who gleefully suck up their gummies and hemp oil and legalized medical marijuana while sipping on their “superb organic Pouilly-Fiussé”.
My hands are shaking in equal amounts of excitement and desperation as I check out what my guy has delivered today – reds, blues and yellows – a difficult choice, to be sure, but the numerous voices in my head have made a unanimous decision: mellow yellow to match my jaundiced skintone and disposition; yes, I’ve read the headlines and the fine print warnings – I’m not an idiot, you know, and that makes me laugh out loud!
Let’s see what’s in the magician’s box to fix this sallow complexion …. spackle-like primer to fill in the yawning crevices around my mouth, foundation with a bit of a dewy finish (or so the advertisements promise), creamy rosy blush for my cheeks, glossy brush-on plumper for luscious lips, pencil to fill in my threadbare brows, glittery highlighter to lessen the deep-set appearance of my eyes and layer upon layer of mascara on my straggly lashes.
Looking at my reflection once again, I see that I’m now back .… returned from the dead, if you will …. and I look sensational, provocative and sensual with just the right touch of promiscuousness, yet there are two burned-out, remote eyes blankly staring back at me.
I slip into my work clothes, ready for another night hitting the pavement, when I feel that familiar sensation and I’m faced with the recurring stalemate – whether I should just take all the pretty candy, lie down and pray I never wake up or put myself back on the meat market to earn enough money for another bag of Skittles; “Fuck it, I’m already dressed” I think as I pop a red and slam the door behind me.
NAR©2024
This is “The Pusher” by Steppenwolf
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