I know that short stories here are sort of 500 words up but I don't know where else to stick this lot as they are stories not poems. Anyway if I put 5 x 100 worders here then that = 500 words, right?
................................................
Cold Water
It bites without teeth, burns without heat. It moves without breath but steals yours from you. It is manhood reducer, women enhancer. It alters its form but never changes what it is. Translucent, reflective, deep as the sea, shallow as the soul, welcoming as the grave.
At the ends of the Earth and under the Earth. Studied, endured, revered and despised. When it runs fast, it can eat the ground. When it runs slow, it can eat the mountains. Desert friend, whale friend, life preserver and life taker. Courage tester. Modern life protects but the parched still desire.
Eternal.
............................
The orphan
I was born without parents.
Never have I known the trust of a father nor a mother’s loving embrace. There were lots of us, the siblings, crowded together in the limited space available. One by one we left our home, exchanged security for the wide unknown. No one said goodbye, no one mourned our passing and no one will be there to welcome us at the long journey’s end. I am one of many yet totally alone. I am sexless and incapable of love, yet I am life itself.
I am just a dandelion seed
Carried on the breeze
.................................................. ...
Grandma's Attic
My Grandma’s attic was not like my friend's. Their attics were full of photos and keepsakes, memories from a life fully lived. My Grandma’s attic held no photos, no evidence of youth.
When I was very young I used to ask why she had no photos. She said that they had been lost a long time ago. I used to ask her lots of questions when I was very young; like why she had faded numbers tattooed on her forearm.
I am older now.
I understand.
I wish she was still here
.
So I could ask her different questions.
.................................................. .........
Dessert Dreams
Sweetmeats.
That’s all really, just sweetmeats.
The parching sun rises for the thirty-first time, reflecting sharply off the water water everywhere.
One by one my comrades gone. The early ones to peace below. We who survived longer, outlasted the water, outlasted the food, we made a deal. A pact in desperation.
Give of the one, that more survive. The weakest first. What else to do?
We existed another day – until at last we were just two. Him or me? The devils choice.
I reach across, take a morsel, his gift to me. Juice flows sweet in my arid throat.
Sweetmeats.
.................................................. ...........
Stony Ground
I loved him from afar.
How he looked, how he moved, how he smiled.
I set out to gain his trust, be someone who was always there.
Our friendship bloomed. Nights out; drinking, dinner, parties. Sharing confidences, talking away the nights. But always I held something back. My love I kept safe inside.
One day I had to tell. He had to know the truth.
His fist hard against my face, his kick deep into my belly, his curses harsh within my ears.
Faggot. Queer.
Lying on the cold street, my body bleeding like my love, cast upon stony ground.
