VinrAlfakyn

Happy Valentine's Day....

My boyfriend and I broke up right before Christmas. I'm still very much in love with him, but he told me that he still wanted to be good friends with me. We just haven't talked as much as we used to since then.

To add some background information: I'm a cheerleader, and there is a girl on my squad named Tara. She has always been nice to everyone, but she is the biggest ditz. Throughout the month of January I noticed that her and my ex started becoming close friends: laughing together in the halls and talking to each other more. It wasn't all the time, though, so I never thought much of it. Then came Valentine's Day.

The morning was actually pretty good. Of course I missed my ex and I wished I could be spending Valentine's Day with him, but I was coping. I made it to lunch, and then everything fell apart.

After eating, I took off down the hall to go to my locker. In the hall I met with one of my friends, Lacy. She asked me, "Have you heard about Eddy?" I told her no, I hadn't. She then informed me that he had asked Tara to the prom this April. She thought I already knew.

A bit more background information: He didn't take me to the prom when we were together, and this year he's taking her AND getting a limo. I just had to find out that day.

During my next class, I felt it coming. I put my jacket over my head so no one would see me cry.

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"I have not heard him laugh often, and it has always boded ill to somebody." -Dr. Watson, speaking of Sherlock Holmes, The Hound of the Baskervilles

" 'I wish I knew how you reach your results.'
" 'I reached this one,' said Sherlock Holmes, 'by sitting upon five pillows and consuming an ounce of shag.' " -The Man with the Twisted Lip

Jiieden

Diamond Dreams

The card slammed to the table, and I looked into her eyes. They were tipped with silver, and I knew she’d given herself away. The dice was spinning in time to the music.

The night was young, and still bursting with promise. I could feel the rhythm of the beating lights above, a waltz marching to climax. Diamond-like, the lights flooded her face with prisms, decking her in rainbows and spirals of glamour. It was the sort of beauty a woman could only have for one or two nights in her life. And never during the day – sunlight is too honest.

I knew this was my time. She’d given herself away, and this was my moment – now, I would steal her heart.

“Sixty-eight thousand,” I said, smiling to her.

She matched, and we played. In the background, I could hear the musicians pick up the pace. There was something flowing through me, like lady luck herself. Clouds danced through me, and I couldn’t lose.

But I did, of course. Those eyes were tipped with silver and I’d given her gold. It was, I knew, something I’d regret in the morning.

Yet the music was strong, and her face was sketched like the dream of an artist. An aurora on ice, swimming in shattered light and water. I was taken in, baited and hooked. It was pure, liquid poison. It was like a dream, I was drifting in a dream.

It was, of course. So I woke up, and it all melted away into the night. It was Valentine’s night, but I was alone and she was gone. Drifting, floating, pearling away into dream.

Chris Miller

Joanne’s Artistic Floral Arrangements and Gifts

My instructions to Joanne of Joanne’s Artistic Floral Arrangements and Gifts were very specific. As assistant manager of a busy Subway restaurant franchise, I can assure you that I am well trained and versed in providing direction that is clear and concise and understandable by anyone whose mental capacity has not been congenitally compromised.

“To my loving wife: a wonderful mother and devoted partner.” That is what I wrote on the card that was to be affixed at no extra charge to a dozen long-stem red roses with baby’s breath and delivered to 120 Devonshire, Appt. 302. It’s not brain surgery.

(It was hard wording the “mother” part without making it sound as if she were my mother too, probably because her constant bitching about all the cooking and cleaning and picking up after me and whatnot has made me overly sensitive in this regard. But we do have four kids: two boys and two girls—the youngest still at home. [None on the way though, thank god, ever. Mary got her tubes tied back when we still had sex.] So I thought I should at least mention the mother part of her job. And Joanne of Joanne’s Artistic Floral Arrangements and Gifts acknowledged that it was a wonderful sentiment, thought it very well penned too.)

When one of my part-timers has demonstrated the kind of dedication that transcends mere job description, has striven to go that extra inch, stayed to the last gulp so to speak, I like to provide some recognition, some token of appreciation. So the complimentarily gift-wrapped Belgian chocolates were to be delivered to 66 Hill West, Appt. 6 along with a note that just said “You’re sweet too, thanks for you know what.” It’s not quantum physics.

So if you are like me you are probably wondering why I am lying here on the kitchen floor next to an orange enameled cast iron skillet with blood on it, trussed like a rodeo calf, duct taped hand and foot, a raspberry chocolate truffle stuffed and melting in either nostril and a curling iron that I hope is not set on high protruding from my ass, wondering if Lisa will like the roses, kind of hoping she can’t read.

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the fairwriting blogs

Barcelona Review story: http://www.barcelonareview.com/64/e_cm.html

gohn67

Just a reminder for anyone who still wants to particpate: LM will close at midnight Sunday PST - Pacific Standard Time. Which means there's still almost a day and a half left.

And thanks to all who participated so far, through judging and submissions.

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The Frowning Dog Blog

character1_Caitlin

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I know I need a sig, I have not come up with anything profound enough so until then....

silverwriter

Off Topic:

might as well throw in a little tidbit. language warning

Author's Note:

no teddy bears were harmed in the creation of this poem

Why I don't own a Shotgun

“Roses are red.
Violets are blue.”
Read that poem again
and I will hurt you.

Take all your roses,
your pink, fluffy shit,
and take that love poem
because it really bit.

Toss them in the trash
for all that I care.
Watch flames engulf them.
Especially the bear.

I don’t care that he got you
a candlelit meal.
I don’t care that your heart
was so easy to steal.

Don’t go and tell me
of the wondrous proposal
Or I’m likely to put you
in the garbage disposal.

I don’t care how his face was
when he was down on one knee.
Trust me, that’s not a picture
I’ll ever want to see.

Anything you tell me
will worsen my mood.
No, I don’t really care
if you think I’m ‘so rude!’

If you’re wondering why your tales
don’t make me swoon, sigh, or tingle.
Hi, I am ‘the ex‘.
You’re the reason I’m single.

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character1_Caitlin

Today is February fifteenth, the day after Valentine’s Day, Karen has eaten all her chocolate, displayed the hand made card from her son. Karen always gets her standard card and chocolate from her husband. He never forgets to remember the day.

“I am going for tea next door, ” Karen announces.

Madeline lives next door. Her health is not as good as it once was.

Madeline was divorced when she was young and later she met a wonderful man named Roy and they spent fifteen years together that were ended by Roy’s passing after a lengthy illness. Madeline nursed him and looked after him as any wife would even though they were never married.

“How are you today?” Karen asks.

“Oh well you know, legs are a little stiff but I am glad my bones do not ache as I am on that new cholesterol pill the doctor gave me last month, would you like a tea and some cookies?”

“Sure, I have time” Karen replies.

“Madeline, where did the flowers come from?” Karen asks.

“They came from the florist” Madeline chuckles while stating the obvious.

“Really, who are they from, is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Well, it seems Roy made arrangements with the florist before he died to send me flowers for Valentine’s Day and each year one dozen arrive on the morning of the fourteenth. Have you not seen them the other years?”

“I assumed they were from your daughter but I see she sent a card and chocolates”.

“They are beautiful and you are very lucky to have this reminder of Roy’s love for you”

“I have to go Madeline but will be back later for a short visit”.

Karen walks in the door and asks her husband, “If you knew you were going to die would you arrange to have flowers sent to me every year on Valentine’s Day?”

“Umm, never thought about it to be honest”, Mike says.

Well it is the following Valentine’s Day and sadly Madeline passed away during the summer. Mike has gone to work and there is a knock at the door.

“There is no answer next door and I have a delivery for the women at 10 Elm Street, will you accept them on her behalf?”

“Yes, thank you” Karen said.

Karen later receives her standard card with chocolates and has a cup of tea alone.

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I know I need a sig, I have not come up with anything profound enough so until then....

strangedaze

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His sins were scarlet, but his books were read.

silverwriter

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Ruben

Dephere

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Ruben

But I live in Belgium (different time zone)

How many hours to go?

Dephere

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Ruben

Dephere

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