An interesting array of movies to watch. The first about a psycho newlywed husband who tried to keep his new bride prisoner on an island. Ok. Then one set on an Hawaiian island with a lot of emotion, healing, bratty drama, and a handsome island man who didn’t get the girl because she decided to stay with her husband… yadda, yadda, eh. Then it was Wolf Town opening set in the 49ers era. Someone is attacked by a wolf, will s/he transform? It jumps to present day with 4 young people taking a road trip back to the now ghost town. The wimpy kid college student sees a wolf. They gaze into each other’s eyes but no attack. Maybe wimps make wimpy werewolves. What else is there to think? His friend stomps off after disagreeing about why they are there, no one believes he saw a wolf anyway, and gets attacked. They carry him to the car but wolves have eaten the ignition and took the purse with the cell. Smarty werewolves? There’s always hope. They drag him back and huddle for safety. Cut to a full moon, howling, and anticipation that the friend will join the pack, possibly eat his friends but nothing happens. Another guy’s chest gets torn to shreds leaving wimpy and the girl whose leg had gotten chewed but she’s ok otherwise. Will both mutilated guys just become wolves then? Will the first kid who died become a wolf but help the others to escape? Mystical music sounds but still no werewolf or wolf action. The angry wolves don’t want people in their town we learn – don’t ask. After all the high intelligence they’re dumb enough to follow the wimpy kid into the building with the dynamite and get themselves blown up, well; all but the one wolf who didn’t attack anyone. He’s a presence while the pack creates mayhem. Wimpy and the girl begin to limp into the sunset, cross paths with the wolf, then turn to go separate ways. “Why doesn’t he attack us” she asks. “He just wants his town back, he doesn’t want to hurt us” wimpy says.
Well, my hopes were dashed…
“He died Baby”, he’d said. “Benjamin found him when he came home from school in his recliner with dark stuff coming out of his mouth…” “Bile” Meghan interjected. “I’m a medical person Sean. That’s renal failure and that’s bile. Drank himself to death finally.” Not surprising but her heart went out to his son, the same age as her daughter at having been the one to find his dad dead. “Yeah. He’s in Oregon now with Mike’s sister. You remember Melinda. They don’t have kids so they’re taking care of him. Figured that would be best. All his stuff has been divided up. His brother took the car.” Sean paused, waiting. A single mom with little to no budget he knew she could’ve used a vehicle. Her son had hers while he was away at college, her daughter still lived with her and she’d gone back to school. It would’ve been helpful to say the least. Not that exercise is a bad thing but they rode bicycles to get somewhere or walked. Meghan sat in silence. She’d broken up with Mike a while ago. Not long enough she guessed, still; good of him to let her know.
“So…” Sean began again. “My heart’s bad from all the drinking me and the Hawk did. You know how Mike was. Pam and I are moving to Arizona. I’ve got to get a heart transplant. “So… so… Well do you want to sleep with me now Baby?” “Sleep with you?” Meghan couldn’t help but wonder is this real or another scheme to get her into bed. “Sean, your heart couldn’t take it. It’d give out. I mean, you’re too big for me to put your body in a dumpster, I don’t have the strength to drag and lift you, it would be too messy to cut you into pieces and put you into trash bags, there’d be blood all over the carpet, I’ll never get it out. Your wife would find out and there’s nothing wrong with her heart. We’ll both still be around and you’ll be dead. No, I don’t want to sleep with you. It just wouldn’t work. Did you get any of his stuff…”
So I did that first. Write, write, write, write… a good kickoff, no? Not. Here I am reading it over and over without an inspirational thought to continue on with. I’d thought maybe the morning or if not I’d check back with it at different times throughout the day and now the sun’s setting – still nothing. There’s a strange light in the distance, you know, over the balcony and the view of the trees. Could be pollution or a small planet. A ship? A specter? Huh. I’m not going to stand here like a fool watching as it gets too close like a Hollywood scene. But what is it? And it is moving. Son of a gun.
Which reminds me of that restaurant again…
How did I get home? I woke up in bed but the last thing I actually remember was being in the painting watching the flames devour the dining room feeling I was beginning to melt with the colors. It was such a brilliant morning.
Guess I’d better make sure her social security checks stop coming to me. At least get that right. Things’ll work out somehow.
I’ve been afraid to go into that restaurant ever since that time. I mean, I hadn’t imagined it and I had lunch there just to see what there was. I don’t remember coming home but I had dinner, or I was having dinner. The next thing I remember was looking at everyone then looking at my table. It took me a minute to realize I’d been sitting there, where I was and the place starting to burn.
Guess no one minded I didn’t pay the bill… couldn’t from where I was standing, well rowing… whatever.
How did I get home?
The colors blazed like her heart did when she was alive. Planted in memory of, it was as if she were feeding it giving it life herself. Her husband knew that wasn’t possible through a bolted coffin weighted by an iron crucifix. “No messing around this time. She needs to stay dead.” He brushed tears away wishing the memories would cease.
“Sweet darling, how hard it was for you but you missed my heart.”
Startled he spun completely around… no one.
“Will you leave me like this for an eternity?”
Face blanched he stood there. “I didn’t… I didn’t!”
100 Word Challenge For Grown-Ups
Read The Instructions it’d said somewhere. The last time was a disaster so she read. “Not from memory this time” to herself she said.
“Sage, rosemary, wormwood and belladonna, crush together, over the body spread. Pierce eyelids with a fine needle, not all the way through, just a prick. Chant for five minutes, but no more than six and dead he will no longer be.”
“We’ll just see” she muttered as she followed it through.
Up he rose. The first moment she knew when he put on an apron and began to clean.
“He’s not himself.”
Her smile beamed.
Your prompt this week it is:
“…READ THE INSTRUCTIONS!…”
I went to the Farmer’s Market, something I didn’t do so much when I was alive but now I don’t have to pay. I enjoy the best. Nice not to have to worry about budget. There are lots of apples, have been for a couple of weeks if its been that long, so I’m guessing it’s fall. Several people are wearing heavy sweaters – must be a cooler day. As I walk skin flakes off leaving a trail like breadcrumbs but I don’t think anyone knows one way or the other. I can tell a heavy breeze, not a gentle one, is blowing leaves around by the way everyone’s hair is tussled, everyone’s jackets, dresses and scarves fly. My hair stays perfectly still for a change, big curly hair, my crazy unruly stuff for my whole life now lies perfect. Death has its perks if only my skin would stop peeling off. Be nice if it’d grow back.
I find honey-crisp apples. Always loved these. Take several then move on to honey, speaking of which, and grab a larger squeeze bottle. A couple of stands down someone’s offering handcrafted earrings looks like silver with coral, jade and turquoise. I pick out a couple pair wondering if my earlobes will give way. They haven’t yet. Do I want anything else? Long dresses becoming trendy, not that it matters but I’ve always liked them so I grab a couple. Might just cover up my dilemma, for who to see I don’t know if only me when I look into the mirror I won’t see the flesh I’ve lost. This is turning out to be quite a day. Shame no one sells boots.
Speaking of no one I get not a glance. Does anyone notice a bag floating around on its own or are folks just being polite as if I were a leper and looking the other way for the sake of my privacy? Would they run from a leper these days? Think I might stop by that Chinese Buffet and get dinner, no, maybe just the market to get sushi. The guy who’s behind the counter was there when I was alive and makes the best then again I could just help myself at the fish counter. Always loved fish. Yeah, fish it is. Sea Bass, only the best.
How do you write about romance when you’re dead was what I thought as I stood before the full-length mirror peeling skin from my elbow. I don’t mean skin from scab but skin from me. I’d been dead a while, in fact so long I’d lost track or so I thought. There’s only so much you can do with it, romance – I mean there were so many good men around the corner in a romance novel it began to get annoying and really unbelievable. I’d finally stopped reading and gave one friend a stack she’d given me of her favorite author.
Can I remember anything from when I was alive. The fingers still work if that makes sense at all. Wasn’t rigor mortis supposed to set in so I couldn’t type. How can I be dead and type? There’s color. It’s not like I’m in a grey room and outside looks cloudy. Today was beautiful, a sun shower and rainbow that broke into two with the colors opposite of each other, then extra stripes, is that what they are, extra layers, yes, extra streams of color formed. It was awesome. No one ever comes in the house though, not even daring people who risk entering haunted houses. I’d heard two kids standing in the yard, my hearing is extremely acute now, saying that I’m still in here for real and no one should come in not even on a dare.
“He held her close. They’d been dating for a while that involved his or her car, sometimes a back seat – why was sex always part of it like it was a ritual – and doing something else too. They liked to do things together. This was a day it was sex first. They tumbled onto the bed and kissed , sloppy, wet, trying to swallow each other whole. He rolled her over, she rolled him over, if they’d wound up on the floor neither would have felt it. He surprised the hell out of her by penetrating now. He’d slid his sweats down and found his way over her waistband and between but wasn’t at the right spot. He caused her to moan from the pressure, the pain, and desire from being so close. He was a rod, a wide bar that needed insertion. She slid her hand but he stopped her. Maneuvering his lack of hips around he pushed hard still in the wrong place but had moved himself up a little so his head was close. Head, ha… what most men think with. He pushed hard again and she moaned from the pain. he was so close but not enough as his dryness stuck to her. she though he might break her, break her skin and make a new canal to where he wanted to be, where he could swim. She tried to speak but he covered her mouth with his, pushed down hard on her hand to ensure it wouldn’t move and pushed so hard he entered but not without causing her pain as he broke the dryness away. She felt like she could bleed, that she should be bleeding. As soon as he hit the spot she forgot about everything, what he’d done, the pain and was lost to absolute pleasure making soft sounds until he slammed her hard. He covered his mouth with hers again so she couldn’t speak.”
“I’ll need to read this over”, I thought as I stood in front of the mirror again. A piece of skin flapped over from my knee. It wasn’t gross and bleedy, it was dry underneath with tendons and muscles looking about the same as if it didn’t matter whether or not I had skin. I decided to take a longer break and go for a walk. I opened the front door and the sun was dazzling although I couldn’t feel if it were hot or cold. I’d have to see how people were dressed today. I brought my grocery bag to pick up a few things. I ate. Food tasted good. I wonder what others see. Is there a bag floating along on its own or is it invisible like I seem to be. Is it no one is looking? How could they not react to my appearance? They mustn’t be able to see me. That’s all I can figure.