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Four Thousand PiecesWe met outside the morgue. You were there with your hair too bright and clothes that we had fought over that very morning. You were crouched, your body looking impossibly small and broken.

You can't wear that out. You look like a prostitute.
I'm eighteen years old Mum, I can wear what I like.

All at once you were the brand new baby that I had held in my arms, sobbing over the tiny miracle that your Father and I had never thought possible. Then, you were five years old, and it was time to begin school. You had looked up at me with big green eyes and a serious smile as you proved over and over that you could fasten the Velcro on your brand
SnowThe snow is falling and it looks like the world has been erased. The sky is white, the ground is white, the space between my heart and lungs is white, blank, untouched. I am cocooned in a world of emptiness, cold but comforting. Tangled up in three blankets and a sweater that somehow still smells like you, I watch the sky darken into gray and the outside world slip into the shades of night. It’s not as dark as it usually is, the whiteness of the snow illuminating a world that should be as black as my mind.

And I wonder if you are thinking of me, when I am thinking of you (you must at least sometimes, because you are never far from my m
lisa everett jonesThe first time he told me he was going to die, I laughed. The sound, tumbling out like a river without end, felt alien as it forced its way past the cage-bars of teeth and padlocked lips. It hid the tears burning beneath the transparent plastic surface of my eyes. His smile, tinged with regret, remained.

***

He was my saviour, and I was his damsel in distress that evening in March when we first met. The streets were cluttered with faces and bodies all tangled up together; and home was a long-gone illusion I'd just run away from with a backpack full of clothes and a thermos of hot tea. I thought I'd survive somehow, in a place where shouting
Keeping up with the Joneses.It's Wednesday, and I'm sitting in my boxers eating cottage cheese and saltine crackers. The house is empty for the first time in a long time, but I have nothing better to do than get fat on scraps and watch my neighbors through the kitchen window.

It's been forty eight Wednesdays since I've had the house to myself, and forty five Wednesdays since I considered cottage cheese and saltine crackers a meal. I've since disposed of two horribly perfect Christmas cards from the neighbors across the street, and they've conceived another masterpiece sometime between Easter and who the hell gives a damn.

I've counted ninety six Wednesdays that didn't
Accident Captured the mammoth.  With fire.  A chiseled stone flew.  Killed.  We all did.  Helped.  The usual way.  Not hard.  We ate.  Feasted.  Firelight and firestories.  Meat.  Laughter.  Girl glanced my way.  Happy.

Not me.  Bow to you and swear not me.  Night like always.  Stars and no fire.  All sleeping.  Had idea.  Thought prepare hide now.  Help out.  Surprise.  Happy.  I nothing wrong.  Swear nothing wrong.  Sad swear nothing right also.  Not me.  Not plan.

Made torch.  Cut at hide.  Hide moved under fingers.  Told me.  Said move hand here knife this.  I followed.  Easy.  Like sleeping.

Morning I saw was big.  Like tree.  Mountain.  S
Killing TimeIt was twenty five past six. Two young women rendezvoused under a clock tower. They waited for a third – a mutual friend. Feeling an uncomfortable silence, one suggested to the other that they share funny stories to kill some time.

Five minutes later, the clock hands fell.

It took ages to clean the bloody bits.
arent said - WhenThere will not be any words when the time comes. Emotions will circle back on themselves like the snake eating its own tail: an endless cycle. Existing, not existing, consuming itself into oblivion, only to expel, excrete, create itself again. Constantly extinguishing, constantly setting alight.

I let the ink melt away the words I write on my naked flesh. Lick my finger again, rub out my emotions. I wrote them; childishly hoping they would find you. Like the words I say quietly in empty rooms, in empty expanses on other continents, hoping the wind will carry my thoughts to you.

I wanted to tell you, but being the coward I am, I don't know w
Better.I. White dress. You did your makeup in the upstairs bathroom mirror. There is hope on your lips  and powder on your skin. You are hiding your imperfections because how else would anyone fall in love with you? White dress you wore to make Tyler put his hands on your waist. White dress you wore in the summer. And in the laundry room, you wash blood off of a boy's hand, licking it once. Red blood you wished would stay in his veins. Red blood that goes straight to his heart where you once were. Red blood in the laundry room, where you make promises you'd never get a chance to keep. White dress you're wearing in the winter. White dress you press a
Fable"Where'd you get a name like that?" I asked her, the night we first met.

She shrugged nonchalantly at the question, like she'd heard it a thousand times before.  "I was simply born to tell stories."

Fable found me at the bottom of another empty highball glass in the darkest corner of the bar, as she drank rye and water through a black plastic straw.  Save for the drink, she didn't look like she belonged there.  She was more like a lost college sophomore, her ID likely the top card in her wallet.

"Can I help you?" I groaned, my head held up by both of my hands.  Elbows on the table; mother would not approve.  She took a seat across the tabl
The Normal GuysAs he killed the engine, Fred let his heavy head fall to the dash.  What else would a rich man do but keep his sports car in pristine condition?  He'd seen all the rich guys drive around in their red Lamborghinis, arms around the shoulders of their cute blonde trophy wives.  Many smoked Cuban cigars and did at least fifteen over the speed limit.
It had been a week since the last time he'd gotten his car cleaned.  Going through a car wash still felt so ordinary, but how was he supposed to know where all the football stars and successful computer nerds went to get the job done?  Those privileged bastards looked so smug with their greased hair and perfectly waxed hoods.
The attendant tapped on the window.  "Sir?  Do you need directions?"
Fred rolled the window down and leaned his head out the window.  "No.  I'm exactly where I meant to be."
"Are you sure?" the boy asked, raising both eyebrows.
Fred nodded.  He knew the way to G
The ConnoisseurEvening in the thought quarry is sublime. The newly collected memories are finally digitized.  After the day’s work, I relax and sort them, evaluating their body and character.

I load a new one titled “Elizabeth," dated for last week. I open the sensory log and dive.

I see green hills and the occasional flower. Clear skies. The sight has terrific clarity.

I pluck a nearby dandelion. The aroma is sweet and earthy. I take a greedy sniff and feel the sharp prick of a stinger. I tear away the insect. The pain finely accents the fragrance.

I detect powerful enthusiasm for the loneliness of these hills, for the absence of civilizati
Hayling (Teaser)The clunker satellite was within his grasp. The gloves of Rise's space-suit rig sent signals to the neural relays attached to his head as he grazed the side of the satellite. The metal felt brittle, and he expected that from a two hundred year old satellite. What caught his interest, however, was the hollow feeling that resonated from his gloves to his head. Satellites were compact and filled with the electronics necessary to equip them with for their job. They were most definitely not hollow.

Rise acted quickly; his shuttle would be out of reach in a few minutes. Clambering around the outside and pawing at the peeling heat tiles-- heat tile
similar but not the sameThe young girl sat down in the grass, her black dress poofing out around her. She had worn a dress so similar to this, a white one, not too long ago. At least, she thought it wasn't too long ago. Time seemed to fly by.

She saw a little blue flower and picked it up. She had worn flowers in her hair with that white dress. There had been flowers everywhere, in vases, on the ground, in that little wicker basket that had hung from her wrist.

Her curly blond hair flew into her face as gusts of wind tumbled around her. Her hands, longer and more elegant than they used to be, reached up to fix her carefully-done hairstyle. The same hairstyle as whe
PerceptionsThe bus is already at the bus stop, and I'm running late to meet my sister. She is going to kill me. I'm heading to the bus stop as fast as I can, waving my arm above my head, struggling with my bag -why is it so heavy?- and luckily, thankfully, the driver sees me frantically gesturing, and waits. A minor modicum of chivalry, not driving off and leaving me standing in the rain. But then, plenty would.

I gasp my thanks as I finally make it onto the bus. There is a space by the door, and I sink into it. I am far too unfit; I must find the time to exercise sometimes. A young man jumps onto the bus behind me, glares around, but there are no spac
The Space BetweenShe had seen him looking at her, his brown eyes tracking her movements as their bodies rattled inside of the train.

Each day he seemed to move closer, becoming more daring. At first she was only flattered, catching his eyes in thanks as they left the train and went off to their separate worlds. Soon, it seemed she knew him.  Knew him in the swaying of his body as he gripping the rail, and in the lifting, flick of his wrist to look at the watch with the brown, leather strap, and how her hair would stand on end as the gaze of his eyes left tiny pin pricks at the back of her neck.

His actions were silent love letters that touched her
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I thought I knew my death.

:iconkaz-d:

I thought I knew my death. He grabbed my heart one day and squeezed tightly, banded fear wrapping its way around my body and terrorizing the air from my lungs. "Not..Like..This.." I would gasp, thinking that there must be some better way out. I would start to beg but it would soon be over. He'd release me and my body would give up. There would be nothing left to say.

I thought I knew my death. She would slip into the shadows some months before I thought my time was up. She would slowly take my memories for my own, replacing them with child's talk and nonsensical things. "Oh please, won't somebody help me." It would be a rhetoric, although I wouldn't know that then.

I thought I knew my death. He would seep into my skin and beneath my bones. Disease would spread through my veins, shutting me down. My very soul would ache, because cancerous ways could do cancerous things. He would wrap himself around my very voice, my heart, my tissue and my being. "Take me home." I would not want to go, but he would convince me there is a better place.

But I did not know my death. Instead of Them, she came. Her eyes were gentle and her breath was filled with compassion as she held me loosely. She did not have to force me to go, she knew I wanted to. Her face was warm but her hair was chilled, her lips frosted when she pressed a kiss to my cheek. She was silver, and cold. She promised me a death with no pain and I...went willingly.
:iconkaz-d:
This came from hearing people talk about death, from hearing them predict how they would go. I decided to give it a twist, and talk about the ways I thought I would die - Alzheimers, Cancer, Heart Attack - but actually in the end, it was simply old age. I wanted to build it up, to make it awful, to make it fearful and sad and terrifying all at the same time and then end it with something completely calm, neutral and something that one is almost ready for. I wanted to instill the fear of death, but take it away at the last minute. Maybe I did that, maybe I didn't! Thoughts appreciated. :)
Featured by =DailyLitDeviations - [link] :)
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:iconthecheshercat:
~TheChesherCat 1 day ago  Hobbyist Writer
"I wanted to instill the fear of death, but take it away at the last minute. Maybe I did that, maybe I didn't!"

Definitely you did. Bravo! :iconbwavoplz:
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:iconxlntwtch:
*xlntwtch 2 days ago   Writer
Congrats on the DLD. I really like how you take us on a "prosetry" journey through deaths to one of old age. Thanks. :+fav:
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:icondailylitdeviations:
=DailyLitDeviations 2 days ago
Your wonderful literary work has been chosen to be featured by =DailyLitDeviations in a news article that can be found here: [link]

Be sure to check out the other artists featured and show your support by :+fav:ing the News Article. Keep writing and keep creating.
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:iconkaz-d:
^Kaz-D 2 days ago  Hobbyist Photographer
Thank you so much :)
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:iconashtha:
~Ashtha Apr 12, 2013
You definitely achieved what you seem to have wanted out of this. I was chilled to the bone initially as you described all the painful, torturous, unfair deaths you feared facing..and then took away the fear by the peaceful death of the persona. However, when I think of it...I feel like deep down everyone wishes they could die the death described in the end, but so many have to face through our biggest fears. Hate how unfair life can be. Keep writing stuff like. It's what gives some of us hope :)
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:iconkaz-d:
^Kaz-D Apr 18, 2013  Hobbyist Photographer
Wow thank you so much :)
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:iconlourdeslaveau-bowman:
Mood: Joy *LourdesLaVeau-Bowman Mar 14, 2013
This is really great!
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:iconkaz-d:
^Kaz-D Mar 16, 2013  Hobbyist Photographer
Thank you!
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:iconlourdeslaveau-bowman:
*LourdesLaVeau-Bowman Mar 16, 2013
Most welcome!! My hubby is going through a rough patch right now healthwise. I tried to bring awareness to his condition, please look if you have a minute. [link] :heart:
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:iconkaz-d:
^Kaz-D Mar 16, 2013  Hobbyist Photographer
:heart:
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