NEW BEGINNING EACH MONTH

NEW BEGINNING EACH MONTH

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Promises were broken. Her heart sank. The whispers only got worse with time. There was no cure for a madwoman. That much was widely known. Yet, she couldn't shake the feeling from her bones.

The visions still plagued Akirah nightly. She knew it by heart, expected it the moment she shut her eyes. A man made of ice. His translucent skin. His terrifying grin. And his... Oddly loving eyes.

In these dreams, he would smile at her. Say her name with a certainty nobody else had. Her pot burst.

She yelped in pain, clutching her bleeding palm. "Irerius," she muttered, wincing. She felt slightly dizzy.

A cold hand clasped hers, soothing her burning skin. She looked up, her eyes watery. "Darling, what do you do to yourself," the man from her visions sighed.

She stared at him, mind hazy. "I wasn't paying attention."

He pursed his lips. "Visions again?" he pushed gently. She nodded. "Very well. It is a new month after all," he said nonchalantly. Tears fogged his eyes but he swallowed. She tilted her head at him.

"Who... Who are you?" she asked suddenly. Her wounded hand trembled.

He spared her a sorrowful glance. "I'm Irerius, my love. And I promise to take care of you."

Her heart pounded, yet she couldn't help but smile giddily. "Are you going to marry me?" she giggled.

"A million times if I need to," he assured lovingly. The man of ice and the madwoman paid no mind to the pictures hung about their home.

He wouldn't say they already married a year ago. He wouldn't say she was cursed to forget him. All he'd say is that he loved her. And deep down, he knew the madwoman loved him as much.

Writing prompt from @arina_writes on tiktok <3

We need a full series of zombie and oblivious teen. I loved this

Brain Curd #155

Brain Curds are lightly edited flash fiction - practically first drafts - posted daily (haven't missed one yet!) and sometimes written with the express intention of being terrible… but, you know, in an endearing way. Please like and reblog if you enjoy - the notes keep me going!

A cold wind blew on an uninhabited car-clogged street. Leaves piled up against the side of an abandoned minivan whose hazard lights still flashed, days later. It was the apocalypse, and Madison needed to charge her phone.

The battery was entirely dead from doom scrolling, and she knew her mother must be worried sick. So she went from door to door, knocking, charging cable and brick in hand. Nobody seemed to be answering.

She arrived at the front porch of 155 Gopher Avenue and knocked on the front door. Once again, it sounded like no one was home. She sighed, pulled her cardigan over her chest, and began to walk away, but stopped short as a crashing noise came from inside.

The door opened, creaking, and standing in the doorway was a tall man, hunched over a bit, with pale skin and a vacant expression. He stared at her and drooled.

“Oh, hello sir! I was wondering if it would be okay if I plugged my phone in for just a few minutes so I can call my mom?”

“Errraaugh?” He asked.

“It’s got fast charging so I can be out of your hair in ten minutes.”

“Ourrgh.”

“Thank you so much!” She brushed past him and made her way to the nearest outlet. “What’s your name?”

“Aurrghhhun.”

“Oren? Thank you so much for the help, Oren. My name is Madison.”

Oren shambled over to the couch and collapsed onto it as Madison perched her phone atop the power brick. Already it was at five percent.

“I’m not from around here. I came to visit the university to see if I want to go here, and I got stranded when the train lost power. I’m just gonna call my mom and see if she can pick me up.”

“Brrraaaaainns?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty smart, I guess. I have a 3.6 GPA. But I’m a little bummed out because I didn’t make it into my dream school.”

“Urgh?”

“Yale.” She checked the charge on her phone. Ten percent. She held down the power button. “But it’s like, whatever. I didn’t want to go so far away from home anyway.”

Oren’s stomach grumbled. He took a bite of the couch and chewed it like a cow chews grass.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to eat that…”

“Grrrraugh!”

“You’re right, sorry, it’s your couch and you get to decide what to do with it.”

“Graughgh.”

Her phone came to life and she tapped her mom’s contact. The phone rang. Madison smiled at Oren, who had memory foam bits running down his chin.

The ringing stopped. “Madison? Madison! My poor baby! Are you okay?!?”

Madison chuckled. “I’m fine, Mom. This nice man let me charge my phone at his house. Can you come get me?”

The sound of a shotgun blast reverberated through the phone. “I’m a little busy at the moment, dear. And my car is blocked into the driveway.”

“Dennis parked his car in front of our driveway again?”

“Yea, but I can’t ask him to move it this time.”

“Why not?”

“I just shot him.”

“Geez, Mom…” Madison scratched her head. “Doesn’t that seem kinda harsh?”

Distant from the microphone, Mom screamed out, “Oh shit! He’s still alive!” and fired off two pistol shots. She picked the phone back up. “Listen, I’ll see if I can find his keys and move the car myself, okay? Get somewhere safe and we’ll figure out a way to get you home.”

“Thanks, Mom. I love you!”

“I love you too, honey.” The call ended.

“Ruaaagh!” Oren pouted.

“I know, it’s been ten minutes already. But can I just have a little more time to get up to eighty percent? It’s only seventy right now.”

Oren let out a deep, guttural groan and slumped into a groove in the couch cushion.

“How about I make you breakfast as a thank-you?”

“Reh.”

To be concluded in Brain Curd 157 on Wednesday. Don't miss it!

Hope to see you soon, but not really

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The music in a dancer's head never stops. Adya's never did, at least. Why would it? Why would she be ashamed of the vibrance that flowed through her like blood?

The dusty record shop on 5th Avenue reminded her of it. The dim lighting, wilted shelves, and ancient cashier were all lessons in the immortality of true passion.

Peace was too harsh of a word for a feeling so tender. Until the store bell rang.

The hair on her arms stood and she tensed instinctively in the silence. His thundering footsteps were hard to mistake.

"Hey, Addy." She turned. He offered a lopsided, quiet grin.

"Salem," she replied. Her heart sank. She wasn't sure which feeling would hurt more, sadness or anger.

"So... You still collect these things?" he asked awkwardly, gesturing to the boxes of discarded vinyls.

"I don't see why else I'd be here," she said pointedly. He flinched. "Unless you think I'd be fond of running into you?"

"I'd hope so?"

"That's unfortunate. I'm afraid you've become delusional."

He sighed, running his hand through his greasy, black hair. "Adya, I'm sorry. I know I messed up."

"Messed up? Is that it?" she laughed bitterly. "I trusted you and you used that trust to hit me where it hurt most."

"I know, I know. I shouldn't have done that but--"

"But what? Salem, just because all your high and mighty friends turned out to be frauds, doesn't mean you get to waltz back into my life like nothing happened!" she snapped. Her voice echoed in the empty shop. The cashier snored louder.

His face fell. "I just miss you. Miss what we had. Our friendship," he murmured pleadingly.

She snorted. "I knew you would eventually. I'm glad you're sorry. And I hope you find yourself good friends again. But you're not going to find it in me."

"Adya..."

"No. A sorry is never going to atone for the toll your words took on my life. A sorry isn't going to fix anything, Salem," she spat, jaw clenched.

"I hope to see you around, but I hope I never recognize you when I do."

"Adya, stop! Please!" he cried, reaching for her.

But she already slipped away. She was already out the door. And all he could do was stare as the best part of his life left him alone.

Writing prompt from @arina_writes on tiktok BTW ❤️

Is anyone else so angry at themself for all the time you've wasted not being yourself? I'm looking back to my days of perfectionism and academic validation, and I'm so pissed that I let myself go so low to just feel important. I've always been important. And it sucks that I took so long to figure it out.

this may shock the viewer but I actually do prefer the temporary violence the bourgeoisie will suffer in the event of a revolution over the unending and worse violence the working class suffers every day just to maintain the status quo

A letter to no one

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I do.

I swear it...

Just not on your life.

No, I promise I understand that love

Is uh... Great!

Soul wrenching, shining, sweet dreams

Live with love, escape fate.

My heart is open,

Broken but beating.

Oh, I said your love makes feel pretty

Like I'm floating or... Fleeting?

No no, I do love you.

I swear!

On my own, wonderful life

And us, the golden pair!

I love, love, love

The way you... Walk?

The way you smooth down your hair,

Your eyes bright as you talk.

You're so meticulous

And kind

And you have the best kind of laugh

And even better kind of mind.

Don't leave me,

I'm not half as bad as I say.

I'll just be less depressed and anxious

On a less... Difficult day?

No no, I love you!

I swear...

Just not on your life.

You're too important, for me to even dare.

I love you...

Though, is it even true?

Or am I just too scared to look in the mirror

And say "I hate you".

Don't love me.

It's not worth your time.

Because I'll stay broken and crying

Even when our wedding bells chime.

There's too many pieces of my soul amiss.

I'd never burden you with such work.

There's too many demons in my soul,

When I think I've caught them all, new ones start to lurk.

Listen to your mother.

Run as fast as you can.

It's not love if it hurts.

It just bleeds before my ban.