Prompt 0004

Jellyfish:  http://theblob.org/raina/prompts/#14

"JELLIES!"
Tara shriek in joy and ran over to the glass panels that separated us from the jellyfish undulating in dark water. Black lights lit up some of the tanks, making the jellies fluoresce in violent vibrant hues.
"Look Molly! Jellies!"
Tara was at my side again, her golden brown eyes shining up at me. I smiled back at her, let her lead me to the wall of jellyfish. She stood in front of one of the black lit tanks with her nose inches from the glass, watching the Jellyfishes' tentacles wave in the water.
"Molly, why don't their legs get tangled?"
"I don't know sweetie, what do you think?"
"I think they're really careful." She looked up and nodded at me with the solemnity of a six-year-old, then laughed and hurried out of the jellyfish room towards the shark petting pool. I watched her go, walking behind her slowly, never letting her out of my sight. She splashed in the pool with the other children, shrieking and laughing and listening to the Aquarium worker.

Prompt 0003

Dark Orchid Stained Glass Window Shooting Star Child Haze: languageisavirus.com/randomlinegenerator.html

I had just killed a man.

The gun was in my hands, the metal was warming against my skin.

My palm was slick against the warming surface.

I heard screaming.

They told me later it was my own.

===+===

My mom is dead. She died in a fire in her corporate office last year. One year, nine months, five days. That’s how it’s gone through my head, like a twisted mantra, since the day we got the call that she was in the ER with most of her skin gone. Fivehoursfivehoursfivehours, twomonthsoneweekthreedays, Oneyearoneday. Oneyearninemonthsfivedays.

I miss her more than I ever thought I could miss anything. I miss the way her smile would light up a room, and the way the smell of her cinnamon vanilla pancakes would wake me up on Saturday mornings when my older sister Cindy was at her piano lessons, and my dad was out running. I miss her voice whispering to me when I felt alone and needed to cuddle. I miss the way she held this family together, made us talk, laugh. She was our buffer, what we could all relate to. I miss her more than anything.

“Reb! C’mon! We’re going to be late!...again!”

I sighed and finished lining my eyes in black. I pulled my backpack onto my shoulders, straightened my miniskirt, and pulled my hair into submission around my face.

“REB!!!”

“I’m COMING, Cindy. Jeez.” I stomped down the stairs to the satisfying thuds my combat boots made on the wooden surfaces, and out the open front door.

My picture perfect sister was standing by her car, blonde hair blowing around her face in picture perfect curls.

“Jeez, Reb, Goth much?”

“For your information, Cindy, this is not Goth. This is punk rock.” Truthfully, the outfit I was wearing did lean a little more towards Goth than punk rock, but I wasn’t about to tell my higher-than-thou sister that. I slid into the passenger side of the car and punched the power button on the radio, wincing when country music flooded the car. “Could your taste get any worse?”

Cindy slammed her door and gave me her best ‘shut up now’ smile. I decided not to annoy her further by changing the radio station. Quite kind of me, I thought.

“You know, I don’t have to take you to school.”

“Yes you do. Dad told you to.”

“So?”

“So, since when do you not listen to Dad?”

She turned to glare at me before turning the ignition and backing out of the driveway.

“Still…” Her sentence trailed off into the morning and I leaned back to take a brief nap before school started.

Hello senior year.

Prompt 0002

"She has the best calves i've ever seen." -The Writer's Book of Matches, pg. 168

"She has the best calves I've ever seen. She must bike or something."
"She probably has someone to bike for her, Claire."
"Well, either way, did you see her calves? And her ankles? She has perfect ankles. I wish i had ankles like that. I hate my cankles."
I lifted my eyebrow at my best friend of 8 years, and she sighed.
"I know, i know. No more negativity or self-poisoning. But i can't help it if Regina Tomas has perfect ankles."
"You don't have cankles, Claire."
She was silent for a few moments as we walked down the hallway to our lockers.
"You do NOT have cankles." I put my arm over her shoulders and smiled. "And Regina Tomas is a stuck up ice queen."
"That's true. Very true." Claire smiled back at me and slung her arm around me.

Prompt 0001

Lime and Peppermint - http://www.feath.com/idea/idea.htm

The taste of lime and peppermint was on her tongue when she woke up, screaming. The wind blew cool through her open window, and the bedside lamp glowed with it's rich yellow glow. She shuddered into the sweat drenched blankets and put a hand to her forehead.
It was the fourth night that week she had dreamt of him, four nights of his poison green eyes piercing her spirit. She pounded the pillow as she sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.
The moon was half full in her window, it's waning edge touching the lip of her frame and she gazed out at it. She stood and clicked off the lamp as she left the room, trudged downstairs and filled a glass with water from the refrigerator door.
Her cat wound around her feet, meowing at her with concern, as she plopped down onto the sofa to watch another night of infomercials.