Month: October 2016

Conversation Between Two

“So, how have you been, man?”

Erik keeps looking at the ocean on the other side of the railing. I can tell that, ever since we started doing this, that he’s been more relaxed about being able to talk to people; he doesn’t too nervous about talking about something that he enjoys. After looking out at the sea for a bit longer, he turns and looks at me.

“I’ve been alright. Just tryin’ to take it one day at a time, ya know?”

His eyes seem to have more color in them. When I first met the guy, it looked like something drained all of the life out of him. His skin cleared up a bit and his hair shines a bit more too; he looks better. I guess it’s my turn to talk.

“Yeah, I hear you. It’s really never easy taking care of a kid, especially if you’re doing it by yourself. I can tell you about all of the stories I have about when I had to babysit my niece for a few days. I could have gone crazy during those days.”

That brought a small smile to his face followed by a chuckle. I know that me taking care of my cousin is nothing compared to his situation, but I’m not trying to make it a competition or anything. I hope I don’t sound like I’m bragging to him.

Erik nudges my shoulder, “Let me guess. She’s probably some six or seven year old who can’t sit still and constantly wants to jump on the couch until she passes out?”

“You a mind reader?”

“Nah. Just have some experience with a kid like that.”

He sure does.

“How’s your daughter. Jeanne, was it?”

“Yeah. She’s a fighter; she bounced back already. She had her break down moment, but ever since then, she’s had her head up. She’s had a little dip in her grades for a brief period, but she quickly brought that back up like it was nothing. She’s trying to find a boyfriend.”

After he utters the word “boyfriend,” Erik let out a long, tired sigh and leads on the railing, putting his head down.

I let out a laugh and pat, “I can’t wait to hear about the guy she finally decides to introduce you to.”

“I just hope the guy she finds is able to put up with her princess attitude every now and then.” He brings his head back up before continuing, “She’s such a spoiled brat at times.”

“But you love the hell outta her.”

I’m Not Adorable

I let out a sigh as I’m leaning back against the wall, waiting for all of this to end. However, considering the fact that my arm has turned into a hanging rack, I’m pretty sure we’re going to be here for a while. It’s Tuesday and barely anybody is out shopping around this time unless they’re getting groceries for dinner right after work. As for me, I’m stuck with Samantha. Don’t get me wrong; I love her to death. It’s just… she has a problem when it comes to clothes shopping.

I look through the assortment of clothes she has me holding. A few long sleeve shirts, a few pairs of pants, a skirt and a petticoat. I’m starting to notice that she likes bright colors and things that just fit her just a bit tight. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the things she wears are a bit tighter in some places on her.

Samantha calls out to me from behind the changing room stall, “Hey, Alex!”

“What is it?” I reply.

“I need your opinion on something.”

The door flies open and Samantha comes out casually strutting her stuff about. She has on a tight, long sleeve bright red shirt with frilled cuffs around her hands and a small, black skirt with more frills around the edges. All of her curves are just popping out, so my eyes don’t know where to look.

She stands there with her arms folded behind her back and asks, “How does this one look on me?”

My eyes keep darting around her body, “It’s one that certainly knows where to highlight your features.”

“Is that bad?”

“It’s only bad if you think it is.”

“Hmm… Hey, keep your eyes on me for a sec, okay?”

That’s all my eyes have been doing ever since you came out of that stall.

She seems hesitant about something, but she then claps her hands together and takes a deep breath. Using the tile floors of the department store, she gives herself a quick twirl on one foot and comes to an abrupt stop. She tries to make eye contact with me, but her embarrassment seems to get the best of her and she looks away from me.

“D-D-Did you see…?”

Was I suppose to be looking for something? “I saw you do a twirl. Was there something you wanted to catch?”

Her face quickly becomes red, “My underwear…”

… Huh? Confused, all I can do was stare at her with a blank look. I can’t even manage to think of something to say. Samantha walks up to me and pokes me on my cheek after noticing my reaction.

“D-Did you you see them?”

“If you’re so worried about somebody seeing your panties while you’re wearing a skirt, just go grab a pair of leggings or something.”

She puffs up her cheeks a bit and folds her arms, “I forgot about those…” She lets out a small chuckle and continues talking, “Where would I be without you?”

“Probably back at home with your parents locked away in your room playing video games.”

“That sounds about right. Wait here for a minute. I’m gonna go find something I can wear under this.”

She gives me a small smile before walking out of the changing section and onto the main floor of the clothing section. I let out a deep sigh and reflect on how I managed to keep Samantha from dying of embarrassment so many times; I’ve done it a lot.

The door to the stall is cracked open a bit, so I can see all of the different kinds of outfits she has organized inside. Normally, clothing doesn’t catch my interest, but being stuck here after a certain amount of time wore me down. I give in and step into the stall, closing the door behind me.

On both sides of the stall are perfectly organized sets of clothes and outfits while a full sized mirror is on the back wall.

“I wish she kept her closet this neat,” I say out loud.

When I look into the mirror, I can see myself dressed in my normal black and white business outfits. I was never fond of skirts, so I always wore pants of some kind. After looking at a row of skirts Samantha brought into the booth, I shrug and decide to experiment to kill some time. Knowing her, she’s going to find a pair of leggings she likes and eventually get distracted by seeing more cute clothes on the way back.

Without thinking, I randomly grabbed a few pieces of clothing off the walls and quickly change into them. I look into the mirror for the results. In my blind picking, I ended up grabbing a blue and white stripped long sleeve and a skirt, in a much darker shade of blue, that ends just below my knees. Everything fits nicely without any tightening.

I stand in front of the mirror and look at the person in it, “I feel so weird like this.”

Something doesn’t feel right though. I take off my glasses, putting them on a small pile of clothes on the floor, and fix my hair, letting a small section of it hang out over my chest. Upon further looking, I notice that the green in my hair is slowly fading, giving way to my natural blonde tone underneath.

As I’m focused on the mirror, I can hear Samantha calling out again, “Alex, I’m back! Are you in here?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right out.”

As if nothing happens, I turn around and walk out of the booth. When I step out, Samantha has a surprised look on her face.

“Whoops. Sorry, I think I’m at the wrong booth.”

Samantha quickly leaves and starts walking a bit further down the row of changing stalls.

What the hell?

I walk over to her and tap her on the shoulder. She turns around and looks at me.

“Yes, Miss?”

“‘Miss?’ Sam, it’s me.”

For some reason, Samantha backs up a bit and quints her eyes at me. As if she really has to focus in order to figure out what’s going on. After putting two and two together, she gasps and runs up to me, running her hands all over me.

“S-Sam! You look… you look…”

“I know, I know. Nothing suits me.”

“You look adorable! You’re even wearing a skirt and you hate wearing them! I totally didn’t recognize you. It’s like you had a transformation or something!”

“All I did was change clothes and take off my glasses… How can I look that different?”

A big smile appears on Sam’s face, “I can show you how different you look just by changing clothes!”

She grabs me by the wrist and forcefully pulls me into the changing booth with her. She starts taking clothes off of the sides and sizes them up on me.

What the hell did I just get myself into now…?

— via Daily Prompt: Transformation Transformation

Despair Awakening

The single row of flickering light bulbs hang from thin electrical wire barely lighting up the cramped, but long hallway; the girl can only see a few feet in front of her before having to submit to the darkness. However, she’s able to see the next approaching light bulb in the distance. Her breathing heavy, giving way to a weak cough every once in a while, she uses all of effort she can to make her way through this hallway. She has to lean up against the wall in order to keep herself upright to walk, even if it seems like a turtle’s pace. When she reaches the next flickering light, she stops for a moment to examine her current condition.

Her thin, solid color black hoodie is torn in multiple places; her entire left sleeve is ripped all the way off from her shoulder, so she can’t hide the numerous cuts and scrapes that line her arm. Her light blue faded jeans are slashed all over as if somebody or something attacked her with a razor of some sorts. Her neck length brunette hair is tossed around with a single bang hanging over her right eye; there’s blood trickling down from her head and traveling down her face.

The girl lets out a violent cough, forcing her to wince and grab at her chest. She gasps for air afterwards. She wipes the corner of her mouth before she beings to speak her thoughts.

“I’m almost there… Just a little bit further and I’ll be out…”

After hearing those lines being spoken, the girl takes a moment to reflect on the events from before. She thinks about that bloodied woman she saw getting dragged away by that… abomination. It looked like something that crawled out of a lab that performs genetic mutations on humans. Just thinking about it causes the girl to gag a bit, but she manages to hold it down.

She reaches into her back jeans pocket and pulls out a small, rusty key. It has an irregular shape, which would make anybody easily assume that it was something else besides a key. She was given that key from a man who had a strange look in his eyes, as if he was being possessed by something. His words spoke of an exit that would bring an end to the girl’s living nightmare, a way out of this strange place. However, his words didn’t have much weight at the time; he was caught red handed killing another man and gouging his eyes out. Perhaps this key leads to a trap awaiting her?

She didn’t really have much of a choice. If she turned around and went back to the room that lead to this hallway, she would surely be killed by that creature that was guarding the door; some strange, werewolf monster with the roar of a demon.

Even so far down the hallway, the girl can still hear the faint roars of the monster behind her in the distance, “It’s either I go back and get torn limb from limb, or I just take a random man’s words and get to the door.”

With her mind made up and too much distance traveled, the girl put the key back in her pocket and continues her way down the dim hallway, hoping there’s something positive awaiting her at the door. It seems like she has been walking for an eternity, but it’s all finally coming to an end; after walking for a few more minutes, she sees a large, rusted metal door at the end of the hallway. It easily shows wear and tear, like it’s been neglected for some time.

Top Home Chef

Let’s see… How should I go about this? How does Alexis start one of these? Oh, I remember now!

Today’s the first day I start my new decision to become a better cook in the kitchen, so I decided to try and make something original. As much as I played that line over and over in my head, making an original recipe is a lot harder than I thought it was gonna be. I thought about all of the different kinds of foods I made for me and Alexis and all of the food I ate as a kid, so it should have been easy for me to think of something original.

But then, thinking about all of that stuff suddenly made me realize that whenever I had an idea of something to make, I remember a time when I ate something like it.

I have all of the different ingredients on the kitchen counter; different types of spices, a bunch of fruits, veggies, and side dishes, and then the main protein is a nice sized pack of ground meat. I take a few steps back from the counter and fold my arms, lightly tapping a finger on my chin as I look at all of the stuff I bought.

“Hmm… Hmmm… Hmph!”

I pout and stomp around a bit as nothing comes to mind for a possible dinner dish. At least, nothing new or original in my mind. I let out an exaggerated sigh and run my fingers on all of the ingredients, poking each and every one. The longer it takes for me to try and think of something to make, the less amount of time I’ll actually have to make it before Alexis comes home from work.

I take a glance at the small, decorative clock above the sink; the time reads “4:04 PM” in nice, blinking numbers.

I start speaking my thought out loud, “Alexis gets off at five thirty and should be home no later than six thirty, seven if the afternoon rush hour is terrible.” I cross my arms and close my eyes, letting all of my thoughts come out, “If I make something simple, then I need to start no later than five thirty…”

I lean back against the counter and keep myself deep in food thoughts. Naturally, I start to drool a bit from the corner of my mouth, thinking about all of the succulent dishes, delicious plates of food, and amazing and tasty desserts. The more I think about food, the more I can feel myself slipping into a daze. I hear a small dripping sound next to me and it snaps me back to reality; I drooled so much, I ended up making a tiny puddle at my feet.

Giving myself a wake up pat on the cheeks, I puff out my chest and reinvigorate myself to make sure I can think of an original dish for my girlfriend before she comes home. I want her to be proud of me! But I need an idea of what to make.

From the kitchen, I can see part of the T.V in the living room; it’s running a few infomercials. I keep my eyes on it, waiting for the main program to come back on, whatever it was that I left it on before I went to the store.

When I see what I was watching on the T.V, my eyes widen with inspiration, “I was watching a cooking competition!”

Switching from “Housewife Sam” to “Lazy Sam,” I rush over to the living room and climb over the back of the couch, comfortably laying on my side and watching the food competition unfold. Looking at all of the random ingredients and items that the chefs are given could easily inspire somebody watching to try their best at trying to recreate those same dishes. I’m even starting to get a few ideas as to what I should make.

I mentally start taking notes of everything each chef does, which tools they used, their techniques and styles. I notice the small clock in the lower right corner of the T.V which says “4:56.”

I let out a tiny gasp, taking notice of how quickly time flew while I was watching, “I need to keep my time in mind! If I pay attention to the number of commercials, I’ll be able to keep myself in line to cook.”

I get up from the couch and head towards the kitchen, leaving the T.V on the channel. I grab my white and blue apron off of the little rack on the side of the sink and tie it tight around me, preparing myself to start cooking.

“Now, let’s begin the sweet desserts challenge special!”

What?

I slowly turn around on the ball of my foot and stare at the T.V; the intro theme to a special, limited airing dessert competition starts playing. My sweet tooth starts getting a small tingle as I see all of the different treats flashing in front of me. Like it’s second nature, I walk to the T.V and lay back down. I lose myself in a beautiful array of sugar.

* * * * *

“So, you wanted to making something original and ended up getting caught in a marathon of cooking shows?”

Full of embarrassment, I let out a chuckle and scratch the back of my head, “Yeah, sorry. I wanted to try something different for dinner tonight.”

“If you wanted to try something different and original, then why didn’t to make something from your Japanese side of the family?”

“… Huh?”

Japanese…? Why would she say to make something Jap– I totally forgot I’m Japanese-American…

Blank expression on my face, the sudden realization that I have Japanese in my blood makes me freeze up with embarrassment and I stare at my plate on my lap. I spent so much time on making up a new dish from seeing stuff on T.V that I ignored the other half of me… I’m so forgetful, how the hell does Alexis deal with me on a daily basis?

— via Daily Prompt: Original Original

Out of Sight

“Wait wait wait. Hang on, don’t move.”

Today, I’m helping out with cleaning around the house; Samantha actually said she needed my help with it. She wants to clean around and underneath all of the furniture we have around the house, so she wants me to move things around while she does her thing. I swear, I’m going to feel sore in the morning after all this.

We’re starting in the living room first, so I have to move the couch and table off of the carpet. I prepare myself by pulling my hair back into a small ponytail and doing a few stretches. As limber and flexible as I am, I can hear a few bones crack and loosen up. I take a deep breath and put my hands on my hip, letting the refreshing feeling run through my body for a minute.

“Man, I needed that,” I say out loud. I move my head around to make some tension in my neck go away; a loud, nasty cracking sound rings through the living room. I laugh a bit at how much sound my body makes as I reach down to get a grip of the bottom of the couch “I swear, I’m like a walking skeleton if I sound like this.”

“That’s gross!”

I stand back up at the sudden outburst and look towards the other end of the couch; Samantha has a disgusted look stuck on her face.

Confused, I ask her, “What’s wrong?”

She points directly at me and wiggles her finger, “You! You cracking all over there! Ms, uh, Ms Skeleton!”

I raise my eyebrow and cross my arms at her statement, a smug look on my face, “Jealous?”

“I have no reason to be jealous about my bones not being able to crack.”

“Uh huh.” I let out a small chuckle and reach for the bottom of the couch again, “Okay, be careful because this is a bit heavy. Lift on three, move on five, and bring it down on eight.”

“Okay.”

Readjusting my grip, I start the count; the couch comes up easy and we manage to move it from its spot, putting it down on the sparkling, wood floor underneath the carpet. The entire time, I can hear the cute sound of Samantha struggling. As soon as we put the couch back down, she jumps onto the couch and lays down, starting her chain of complaining.

“Lifting that thing was such a workout! I think I’m done lifting for the rest of the week.”

I lean forward on the arm rest, so I’ve hovering just a bit over Samantha’s face, “It’s only Sunday and you’re already saying that?”

Samantha reaches up and takes off my black-rim glasses as she speaks, “Yup. I know I’m not lifting anymore this week.”

Normally, I get really angry when people try to take my glasses off my face without asking be, but I can let her get away with it. Sam’s blushing face is now a simple blur to me; everything’s pretty blurry now actually. From what I’m able to make out, Samantha puts on the glasses and starts looking around.

“Your eyesight sucks. Everything’s all discombobulated and shifted when I put these on,” she points out. She then sits up and looks directly at me, “Do I look cute with glasses on?”

The obvious answer is ‘Yes’ just to make her happy, but I decided to be realistic, “I can’t tell if you’re cute. I can’t see.”
I can’t tell, but I have a feeling that she has her cheeks puffed up, “Jerk. Just for that, you’re not gonna get these back until I’m done cleaning the carpet.”

I laugh and try to pat her on the head; I pat her shoulder, “Be careful with my glasses.”

“I’m the most careful person in the world.”

Just the other day she managed to somehow trip on nothing and landed face first into the couch. With that in mind, I decide to give her another chance and let her walk around blind with my glasses on her face. Following the thin silhouette of her body, I try to keep an eye on her, watching her keep her hands out in front of her as she tries to walk around the house. She’s making small huffs and puffs under her breath, her voice trembling a bit like she’s afraid of something.

She manages to find her way along one of the walls and into the kitchen. Now, the only thing left is to get some of the cleaning supplies from under the sink so she can get out any stains on the carpet. I crawl over the arm rest of the couch and lay down to pass the time.

Maybe she’s starting to get adjusted to the glasses.

I start to have a bit more faith in Samantha. I think that maybe she’s actually being considerate at the fact that she’s wearing my glasses. She is the caring ty–

Mid-sentence, I can hear somebody’s foot skidding across the floor and then falling flat onto the ground like a big SPLAT.

“OWWW!”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. All of that faith and hope I had is now escaping my body.

“D-Don’t worry, Alexis! I’m oka– whoops.”

… I’m not even going to ask what happened. With the series of events that just unfolded and the way this girl is, I already know what happened, so I’m just going to say it, “You’re gonna pay for my next pair of glasses.”

— via Daily Prompt: Careful Careful

Skating in the Kitchen

It’s finally the weekend; time for me to be as lazy as I want and just lay around on this couch. I yawn loud, my mouth cracking a bit, and stretch out all cross the couch, letting my arms hang off of the sides. I close my eyes and let myself relax, but it quickly comes to an end when I hear a loud beeping going off in the kitchen. I open my eyes half way and stare at the ceiling.

“I forgot Sam was doing laundry.”

I let out a sigh and sit up, looking over the back of the couch. Every weekend, Samantha likes to take some extra time out of the day and do a deep cleaning of the house. She hits every nook, every sharp corner, and all of the far off places she doesn’t usually do during the week. I know Sam’s dream is to be the perfect housewife, but every time I see her trying really hard to keep the house clean, I feel a bit bad that I’m not helping out.

I sit up and look at Sam in the kitchen and notice she’s mopping. I decide to ask her, “Hey, you want me to help you today?”

Samantha quickly look up from her mopping; she has this funny thing where she shakes her hips around when she mops. She spins on the handle of the mop and turns to look at me, “Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel like you’re always doing everything.”

I enjoy my downtime, but I don’t like when I feel like I’m useless at time. But when I see Samantha smiling after I said that, I can feel a faint warmth coming from her. She may act like a brat, she may fuss like a kid at times, and she may get on my nerves, but she never means anything bad by it.

With her smile wide on her face, Samantha answers again, “Really, I can do it. I like when I see you taking it easy. It shows I’m doing something right.”

She rests the mop against the counter and slowly walks to me on the couch, the sound of her feet splashing in small puddles reaching my ears. She presses her hands on my cheeks and looks at me directly in my eyes before planting a soft kiss on my forehead. I can’t see my face, but I’m pretty sure I’m blushing red like a tomato.

I swear, if her sweetness could kill, I’d be in constant danger.

“So just relax and watch TV while I finish up here,” she whispers to me. She turns around and skips back to where she placed the mop, “Besides, the fun part is about to happen.”

I want to answer her, but my body is too paralyzed by her; all I can do is nod and lay back down.

I take a deep breath and reach for the remote on the coffee table in front of me, turn on the TV to pass the time. I just lay there and let myself get sucked into the flashing screen, knowing Samantha is capable of doing everything.

A few minutes into me being lazy, I can hear Samantha giving small groans and grunts, “You need help?”

“No, I got it.”

I shrug and keep looking at the TV. Just a few seconds later, a massive splashing sound can be hear in the kitchen. Part of me is starting to get worried, but I don’t want to bother Samantha too much, especially since she’s not asking for help, so I ignore everything.

Brushes scratching against the floor follows the splashing; she must have brought out one of the hard bristle brushes from the closet. Samantha starts laughing for some reason. Hearing her laughter is starting to make me chuckle, so I want to get a look at what’s so funny to her.

I sit up one more time to get a peek, “What’s so fun–”

I stop mid-sentence at what I’m witnessing. The entire kitchen floor is covered in water; it’s slowly reaching out into the living room. With two small broom brushes tied to her feet and her arms folded behind her back, Samantha has somehow found a way to skate across the water. Easily gliding back and forth and all around our kitchen without a care in the world, she doesn’t even notice that I’m watching her. However, even though I should be confused at what I’m seeing, her movements just keep me trapped and left for words.

Her movements flow elegantly and with precise timing and precision, stringing together simple ballet stances and moves. Her hair blows out from behind her, dancing on its own in the gentle breeze she makes from skating. The water beneath her feet waves around her as if she’s controlling it; it splashes around and add an aquatic touch to her performance. She managed to make the kitchen her own personal stage for the time being, and I’m getting a personal show.

Awe-struck and my jaw agape, I watch on. Her performance coming to a end, Samantha end with a final pirouette, landing in a finishing bow. A moment of silence washes over the entire house, but not for long.

I go into a wild cheer and start clapping, “Yeah, Samantha! Woo! You got moves!”

I can tell that my sudden outburst caught her off guard; she quickly looks up at me and her entire face flushes red, her voice trembling with fright, “Y-Y-Y-Y-You saw m-me?!”

“Well, yeah. I am on the couch after all.”

Samantha cover her face and squeals a bit, “I can’t believe you saw me! I can’t believe you saw me! I can’t believe you saw me!”

I lean forward on the couch as I look at her, “Is that a bad thing?”

“I get stage fright!”

“But it’s only me here.”

“That’s even worse! It’s embarrassing when you watch me do things!”

I chuckle a bit, keeping my eyes on Samantha. Who knew somebody who’s so easily embarrassed would have the graceful moves of a professional performer?

 

— via Daily Prompt: Graceful Graceful