Daily Prompt: Perplexed

In response to the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Perplexed

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He was perplexed.

There was the old go-to needle and thread.  There was also the hole puncher.  Not forgetting the stapler.  But his hand hovered over the paperclip.  Paperclip it is, he thought.  Got to sharpen it first though.  

He picked up the metallic paperclip and used a sandpaper to taper the ends until it was sharp, capable of puncturing through most anything.  Finally satisfied, he turned to the woman on the chair at the far end of the room.  She was bound by her hands and legs with rope as tight as could be.  She tried to wiggle free but the knots were securely fasten.  This wasn’t his first rodeo.  Tears spilt down her cheeks.  Tape over her mouth.

He smirked as he approached her, modified paperclip in hand.  “Now, let’s see about keeping that mouth shut, shall we?”

Daily Prompt: Elegant

In response to the Daily Post’s Daily prompt: Elegant

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Source: Wall Devil

She brushed lint off his dinner jacket and adjusted the tie that she’d picked out for him, it was cerulean and matched his eyes. She smoothed his hair off his face and gave him a tender smile. Pressing her cheek to his temple, she whispered, “I just want someone who will never stop choosing me.” She got up and left him seated on the bench in the park where they’d had their first date, when she knew that he’d be her forever after.

Fifteen minutes later, the law enforcement officers arrived after responding to an anonymous tip. They immediately spotted him on the bench, dressed to the nines with a silver letter opener sticking out from his chest. As they went about securing the scene of the crime, they all agreed that he was the most elegant-looking corpse they’d ever seen.

Daily Prompt: Shiver

In response to the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Shiver

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The hair prickled on the back of my neck. I fought to remain calm; continued walking.

An excruciatingly sweet scent assailed me. I battled the urge to vomit; refrained from looking behind.

The Pontianak, the spirit of a woman who died violently during childbirth, hovered behind me. I held my hands around my stomach in protection.

Harsh breathing pierced my ears. Sticky, warm on my skin. I recoiled.

I strode faster. The path dark and the winds cold. I shivered.

One more step towards light and safety, I smiled…

…then froze. Cold hands around my throat; extinguishing life.

Goodbye daughter.

Daily Prompt: Ghost

In response to the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Ghost

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Source: Getty Images

You find yourself outside, in the rain but you can’t remember how you got there. Did you walk along the broken sidewalk which had weeds erupting from the cracks? Or did you come out of the warmly lit building behind you? You feel cold seep through your wet garments. You glance down and see you’re wearing a pale yellow dress. You think it’s pretty.

Oh yes, you’re standing in the rain.

Somehow, you know that you should look for shelter before you catch a cold. Did your mother tell you that? You try to remember but all you encounter is wool and pain irradiates from deep within your skull. You stop trying to remember and the pain recedes.

You hear a noise to your left and turn. A large man is coming your way. He’s looking down at the phone he has in his right hand, his left hand is carrying a briefcase. If he doesn’t look up soon, he’ll barrel into you. You try to move out of his path but your movement is sluggish. Your feet feels like lead when you try to lift them off the pavement. You shout out but no sound emerges from your lips so you hold out your right arm to ward him off. He still doesn’t look up. You close your eyes and brace yourself.

Nothing.

He didn’t bump into you. Maybe he stopped. You open your eyes to look. Just in time to see his left foot leave the outline of your body.

Daily Prompt: Maybe

In response to the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Maybe

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Maybe this time, he’ll be the one who arrives early and has to wait patiently, making uncomfortable small talk with the wait staff before she arrives. Hopefully this time, he’ll remember her name when he asks her for her number.

Maybe this time, during dinner, he’ll be able to stifle his yawns and not confess that the reason he’s tired was because he played Dance Revolution the entire day before their date. Maybe this time, she won’t forget his name when they say their goodbyes.

Maybe this time, he won’t spend the entire dinner talking about his obsession with protein shakes and the number of hours he spends at the gym. Perhaps he’ll also allow her to share a little about what she likes to do for fun. After all, she’s been told that she’s interesting and would like the opportunity to have her date think so too.

Maybe this time, her date won’t snigger at nothing in particular and mumble under his breath as he peruses the menu and suddenly exclaiming “This menu is different from the one I found online!” snigger snigger “Now, I don’t know what to order!” snigger snigger

Maybe this time, there’ll be sparks and a potentially happy ever after.

“Oh my God, this restaurant looks SO Japanese! I love it!” Her date says, waving his hands around.

“That’s because we’re in a Japanese restaurant,” she replies, counting the minutes till the end.

Or, maybe not.

 

Daily Prompt: Aimless

In response to the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Aimless

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Tonight, she sought refuge, solace, comfort. She ended up in the old neighbourhood where she used to go to school.

She laughed. Not a real laugh, the brittle kind, as if she didn’t know if she was supposed to moan, groan, growl, snarl. Her subconscious truly had a sense of humour. She had not been to this neighbourhood in at least 5 years, maybe 10, though she thought of it often. Every day. And now, the day after her birthday, she somehow drove herself to this place, no map, no GPS, her only guide, an internal compass seeking the place of beginnings.

Then, she realised that the hostel she used to live in was not where it was supposed to be. Frantic, she drove around and around, wondering if perhaps she was not where she thought she was. After several minutes of aimless driving, passing landmarks, or what were left of landmarks, she accepted that she was not wrong. The building in which she slept, laughed, cried, existed for those few years, was no longer there.

In her parked car barely a hundred metres away, she gazed at the empty lot that used to be a hostel converted from a car park, a hostel that housed hopeful, eager students. She imagined once that sometime in the future, she’d bring her children there to show them where their mother used to live, those heady days, filled with books, friends, loves, food. The lot was filled with grass and who knows what else.

She drove away then, still seeking refuge, solace, comfort. She mourned the building, the first building she’s ever mourned.