Categories
Creative Writing Horror

Summer

August came and went, but she’ll always remember August, because of what he said:

Give me a kiss and I’ll give you a smile.

Tell me something sweet, and I’ll buy you something nice.

You cover your face like the moon behind a shimmer of clouds.

Tell me you love me, and I’ll see you come around.

Darling, didn’t you know that I’ll pick two stars and put them in your eyes.

If only you’ll be a little less stubborn and learn to offer up a smile.

Three months passed, and it was turning out to be the greatest love story ever told.

They promised each other with the stink of sex between them:

Let’s both hold hands and write this story — our story — together.

Months went past but even as her stomach grew and she grew beautiful still, the theatre of life dimmed.

That’s when she opened her mouth, and an angel with a terrible secret whispered out aloud:

Do you know this little secret I’m about to drop softly into your ear, my love?

Street lights wept as she told him of early dementia. The days passed by, and he saw how thoughts, questions, and sanity itself fell away in her mind.

The only thought that remained in that fine sieve of her brain was a terrifying question:

Who am I?

He thought:

Relationships end because one person loves the other person a little less.

And he slipped a knife through with just a hint of a secret gasp, and she felt the skin, flesh and sinew parting with sympathetic and painful reluctance.

She thought with a last painful breath as the darkness came:

As you can see, even monsters were babies once.

When the world came to see her rest, she heard his Mama admonish him:

What are you doing?

He said with a surprised jolt:

Nothing Ma.

But she saw him as did the red-breasted robin nearby, spitting with glee, spitting with relief, right where she lay, right here among the leaves.

Categories
Creative Writing Love

Algo

I saw you on my Samsung screen.

I swiped right.

You swiped left.

You didn’t want to see me.

Algorithms don’t care about us.

The algorithms don’t care about me loving you.

That’s why I went and held someone else’s lips with mine.

Yesterday’s pleasure, which was designed to forget you, was supposed to be a happy memory.

Yesterday’s pleasure is my regret today.

Categories
Creative Writing Love

Wonder

I wonder if our love will grow stale once you grow and prosper in life. I wonder if all this effort will be in vain. Do you wonder the same?


Can you still love a smooth face that has given way to wrinkles and the shame of time?


Will you still care for the person whose head is adorned by the greys and whites of hopelessness and frailty?


Could you possibly kiss the lips of that one person who once remembered your birthdays throughout the years, but now forgets as he stumbles and falls in weakness?


I wonder if the whispers of I Love You will be forgotten — just an echo now, which Time has chosen to forget too.


Tell me — Do you wonder the same?

Categories
Creative Writing Love

Plans

I made plans for both of us.

We were so excited.

Then I realised that it was only I who was excited.

And those plans were just mine (and made for me).

You just stood by looking coy, but that was just nonchalance.

I wish I knew that you only meant to come along for the ride.

Categories
Creative Writing Love

Chocolate Cake With Rainbow Sprinkles

Is yours a sad love story like mine?

Mine took place on a Tuesday.

You see, he never came back.

It wasn’t someone else’s hand he left mine for.

I wish it was.

His birthday was in September.

I still bake a cake every year.

But he’ll never get to eat chocolate cake again.

I’ll never be able to lick his lips with a tongue freckled with sprinkles.

That day was his birthday.

That day he walked away for good.

That day 20 years ago.