The Man with the Mustache

I stood on the doorstep for quite some time, just staring at the brass door knob. I remember going in and out of this door so many times before. As a child I loved the blood red color of it, making it obvious this is my door. This is my home.

It is no longer my home. I no longer know or understand the man and woman behind the bright red door. Nor do they understand me.

I can almost smell the aroma of bread baking as I told my parents I was dropping out of university to become a street performer. Ever since I could travel alone I've been going to the South Bank to watch these marvelously talented people perform for their life. And it was my turn to be one of those people.

It's been 3 years since I've crossed that threshold. 3 years since I've spoken to either one of them.

Through a cousin I've come to hear of my mother's illness and although my presence may not be wanted, I feel it's needed. I cannot let her go without her knowing my respect for bringing me up. She may not accept me, and I will not apologize for who I am, but I will still tell her of my love for her.

I take a final deep breath and open the big red door, walking into the scent of freshly made bread.

[Promp: Write about someone you saw on the bus or tube.]

Playing Pretend

We looked at the stump of our favorite climbing tree. Standing around it, heads tilted to the side, all wondering the same thing, "when will the faeries get here?" I was told once that faeries liked to gather at tree stumps, especially when there's food around. So I laid down the crustless peanut butter sandwich in the the middle and sat down a few feet back. The other three girls followed suit and came to sit next to me. We waited for what felt like hours hoping to see even the shadow of a wing, but nothing.

Our mother's called us home for supper and my mind raced wondering if a faerie had come while I was gone. As soon as I had finished my vegetables I raced back to the stump and the food was gone! I knew the faeries would like peanut butter, they had to have been the ones to take it!

Day after day we would return to that stump, hoping maybe this time we'll see one. While we would wait we would play as if we were faeries flying off to far off places, like Neverland. We would go on daring adventures no mere child could on. We did this so often we began to forget to bring the food.

[Prompt: Take your partner's title of other story and write your own story.]

Naivety runs through my veins
Beating with my pulse.

[but it cannot sustain life]

Ignorance is my blessing
That shields me from a virus.

[but once discovered, it cannot be forgotten]

Run away from the thoughts once learned
And escape a cancerous illness.

[but the escape will only take you so far]

Skin

I'm trying to escape this skin.
Go to the department store and purchase a new one.
(not too expensive please, I'm a poor college student that doesn't know what to do.)
I plaster make-up and fry my hair
to stick to the image I perceive that others perceive as beautiful
and it all gets so exhausting.
I'm ready to shed who I am and start again
(this isn't the first time I've molted).
I've tried and tried again to view myself as the person I want to be
but I just haven't found the right size yet.
I look around and see other's who tried on one and are good to go
(but sometimes I wonder if they just snuck out and found a new one when no one was looking).
So I'm going to go try on some new cuts
and maybe I'll find the one the suits me best.
And if I don't I'll just buy one I like for now
and go through this all over again in a year or so.

An Eloquent Dream

I count the minutes as they fall
Watching unfamiliar faces pass me by.
But the faces turn into those I know
Or once knew in an eloquent dream.

They become my friends, or friends of friends
And we laugh about our foolish thoughts.
The days and years dissolve into the air
But we do not give the calender a second glance.

We grow old and speak of the stars we've seen,
Of the clouds we've watched and the hills we've climbed.
Our eyes have seen much.
Our hands have touched many.

"It's a peculiar predicament that we're in"
A friend of a friend says to me.
I chortle and ask "but why, dear friend?"
"Because this is all an eloquent dream."

Colors

I dream in vibrant colors.
They mix together creating undiscovered hues.
Caught in my eyes they reflect to the sky,
Kissing the sun and moon.

Shadows sneak in and out,
But the colors always return.
The black night may try to swallow them,
But they never give up their will to live.

Neglect

Smoke and sin fill your lungs.
Intoxicated hands touch.
Blind eyes overtakes the mind.
Memories fade to black.
Say goodbye to a former life.
You've neglected yourself dear child.