Missing youth…

I miss the days

where a kiss meant

i like you

 

I miss the days

where going to the movies

was the best date

 

I miss the days

where it was easy

 

I miss the days

where love

was a simple

yes or no

 

I miss the days

where life

didn’t get in the way

 

I miss the days

where a kiss meant

i love you

 

I miss the days…

where I didn’t know you.

FWF – The story behind her eyes…

Time for another Free Write Friday post, hosted by the lovely Miss Kellie Elmore

Here is your FWF prompt:

Tell me about this girl…

2014-04-08 09.52.48

It was almost closing time when she came in, the kitchen was already closed, as it was minutes past midnight, and there was only one or two tables left.

“Sorry miss, kitchen’s closed.” I said as she walked over to the corner booth.

“I just want tea,” she said, her eyes on the table, her words so soft I had to lean in to hear them.

I walk to the counter and make the tea, tired after 12 hours on my feet, and I look at her while the water boils. Her waist length black hair is hanging like a curtain around her, shielding her from the world, her thin frame is hunched over the table, bundled up in jackets. 

Then she looks up, and the world stands still. Her eyes are soft grey, and sad, the kind of sad that makes you want to cry along. She makes eye contact very briefly and looks away into the corner, so intrigued by the piece of wall, I had to look over to make sure there wasn’t another world over there.

“Here’s your tea, miss.”

I put the tea down, a bit harder than necessary and a few drops spills out, drips onto her hand. But she doesn’t even flinch, or react at all. Then I notice all the other marks on her hands, cuts, burns, blister, rope burns. She is still looking at that piece of wall, like there is a movie playing just for her.

“What are ya lookin’ at?” I ask before I can stop myself.

She looks up to me, straight into my eyes, and I feel my heart beating faster, the eye contact is holding, more than just a few seconds this time.

“Don’t you see it?” She replies, that same soft voice, making me lean in to hear the words.

“What?” I ask, confused.

Then she shakes her head, just slightly, and looks up to me again, “Thank you for the tea.”

I walk away slowly, not sure what just happened, or what I will do if I stand around any longer.

“Do you know her?” I ask the shift manager, leaning against the counter on her elbows

“Ethan, dear boy, don’t.”

“What??” I ask, offended.

“She does this, makes people fall for her, with that sad eyes, and that breaking vulnerability, but she’s fierce, and weird, and a little bit crazy.”

“Aren’t we all?”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, you’re already in there… all the way. She’s bad news.” 

I shake my head at Clare’s silliness and walk over to Grey Eyes again, “ya still all right over here?”

She looks up, there’s the eye contact again, “perfect… Just lonely. Sit?”

I can hear the question mark after the word, but the look in her eyes is making it feel like an order. I look around the cafe and notice that all the other tables left. I sit down, slowly, afraid I might startle her. She looks like a dove that could scatter with a single pebble thrown at her.

“You don’t see it do you?”

She looks at me, but not like before, almost past me, to another world, another universe. Her eyes get really big, horribly big as she sees something, only she can see, just over my shoulder.

“See what?” I ask, imitating her soft voice, once again, scared of startling her.

“All the souls… Hanging out here… They want to go… But they don’t know where… I should help them… I tried… That’s why… They needed an out… I was helping…” She’s talking in short, nonsensical sentences.

Then she touches my hand and look up into my eyes. For a second it was just her and me and then as she blinked, the whole cafe filled with people. Not people, actually, these semi-solid floating figures. All sad, some still suspended in the act that caused their death, others just hanging, not sure what to do, where to go.

I look at Grey Eyes, and turn around, trying to look for Clare, but I can’t see anything through the figures. 

“Why do you see them? Why do I see them?”

She looks at me, her head cocked to one side, like she’s trying to understand my question and then her reply comes, almost inaudible.

“Because I killed them…”

This was one of those stories that started as one thing, and then escalated, very quickly in to something else with no control…

It’s not my best work, but I was just sick of writing love stories, and I wasn’t in the mood to write a tragic story. So I made her a murderess… I might just be certifiable after all =]

Love always,

M*

Insecurities…

Since High school, there was only one thing in my mind when some one asked me ‘what do you want to do one day?’

Write…

I didn’t have much else… I wasn’t all that active, I wasn’t exceptionally clever, or gifted in anything particular. But I was good with languages. Afrikaans and English were my favourite, and best, subjects.

So I wrote. Silly poems, useless flash fictions, I even finished one Afrikaans novel.

And people tell me its good…

But is it?

I’m not writing this post for reassurance, I just want to put my fears out there…

What if I’m not good enough?

What if this one big dream of mine, getting published, doesn’t happen?

What if it does happen, and it’s not so great?

I’m not sure if there is much more to me than wanting to be a writer… For the last five years, that has been my identity. For the last five years, I was the weird girl in the coffee shop with a tattered notebook, writing like her life depends on it. And it does…

I don’t know if there will be much left of me if I don’t get to be a writer…

Writing is my therapy. It helps me forget, it helps me remember, it helps me get the blackness out of my head.

If it were to be taken away from me…

I’d be fucked…

FFFC – That one place…

I’m writing this for a prompt by OM and his Flash Fiction Friday Challenge.

Describe for me a city, any city real or created, in less than 1,000 words. How much can you show the reader?

It used to be my favourite place. 
Walking down the cobblestone streets, streets not really aware of the fact that they should have been modernized years ago.
Seeing the old stone buildings tower over you, making you feel small, like an ant between all this beauty.
Feeling the breeze, coming from the beach, always just a few minutes away from where you are. That salty smell, the almost stickiness on your skin, that taste of freedom on your tongue.
Smelling the wonderful smells of the world around us, the pastries in the deli, the coffee coming from every direction, the sea, the people.
Hearing the ring of a bike bell, the music coming from that one street artist we used to love so much, the breaking of waves on rocks in the distance, a car here and there.
How I miss that place, that one place we could share, we could love, we could dream about.
And now, it’s just what it always has been.
A place in my dreams I’ve never seen before.
 

Not sure if this fits the description of the prompt, but its Free Write, so that’s what I give you…

Love always,

Marlize

Writing Friday… I lost that feeling…

I wasn’t in the mood to write this week, nothing grabbed at me, nothing made me feel, okay, yes, I need to write about this.

Then I got to this page from Today’s Author and was presented with this prompt.

And then the worst thing possible happened: she no longer craved coffee.

How could I, as a self-confessed caffeine addict, NOT respond to this prompt.

So, now I’m gonna write, and see what happens when some one takes the coffee away..

Wait, now I want coffee, BRB, need to grab a cuppa!

Okay, got my cup of energy. Let’s do this. =]

“You’re going out for coffee AGAIN? Didn’t you go yesterday?”

Summer looks over her shoulder at her friend, Autumn, and gives a little smile over the coincidence that is their names. They have been friends almost since birth, as their moms are BFF’s, and without prior discussion, both of them ended up with kids named after seasons. 

And the bigger joke, is the fact that Autumn has the personality of a summer child, and Summer has the personality of an overcast autumn day.

“Yes, We are going out for coffee AGAIN. It’s the only thing we have in common, this consistent need and want for good coffee. So now we are taking each other to the greatest coffee places we can find, and trying to find something else we have in common.”

“Why are you going out with a guy, when the only thing that keeps you together is a craving for overpriced, over-caffeinated drinks?”

“Because, my lovely Autumn, he kisses like no guy I have met before.”

Autumn falls of Summer’s bed as she laughs, “my mostly depro, always dressed in black, friend, dating a guy, because he kisses well.”

“He doesn’t kiss WELL, he kisses like a Greek God!”

She extends a hand to help Autumn of the floor and pulls her friend closer for a hug.

“See you later, flower-child”

“Enjoy your coffee, Cloudy”

~*~*~*~

“Hey, Skye.”

“Summer, you look amazing.” Skye pulls her closer for a kiss, his hand on the small of her back, making use of the small sliver where her skin got exposed, where her shirt ended and her jean began. She melts into his arms and feel how her knees go weak.

“Let’s go in,” he says after a proper greeting.

Hand in hand the enter The Cup of Choice and together, they head for a corner booth.

This place might just win the competition, Summer thinks and smiles at Skye.

“I’ve started reading this new book, Park and Elaenor, about first love, and it’s quite good, very well written.” Summer tries making conversation as they sit down.

Skye looks up from the menu, she still doesn’t understand why he bothers with the menu, he always takes a Latte, just as she always takes an Americano.

“You want to go to the park when we are done?”

Summer frowns at him, realizing he didn’t’ listen to a single word she said.

Skye then tries to start a conversation, “so yesterday, at practice, Brian went for the ball, but Brent got in the way, and Brian fell, twisted his ankle, now we need a player for the next two weeks, and coach is not sure who to sub in.”

Summer floats back into her head, a technique she started as a child, when she realized her mind is much more interesting than most people.

Skye orders the coffee without asking her and goes on with the soccer story. Perks of her technique is that she still listens, but goes on with something else in her own head, so that if she needs to participate, she can jump in without looking like she was daydreaming for the whole time.

Just before the coffee came, Skye moved closer, and Summer’s favourite part of the evening got under way, the PDA.

His kisses honestly made his stupidity worthwhile. If she could get a kiss for every time he said something stupid, she could date him for ever.

Then he pulls away, drinks coffee and says the words that dooms every relationship.

“We need to talk, Summer.”

“We have been talking, Skye.”

“About… us…”

Summer sits back, stirs her coffee and wait.

“This, us, we, it’s not working… I don’t know if you realized, but we have nothing in common.”

“Well, we have coffee…”

Summer sips at her Americano and watches as he stirs his Latte. Stirring, not really drinking. Then she realised something new, mostly he sends back a half or almost full cup back, saying it got cold and he doesn’t want it anymore.

“We don’t really..”

“What?” Summer asks, knowing his next words will confirm her suspicions.

“I don’t actually like coffee. I just knew you like it, and it was the only way to get you to go out with me.”

“Uh…” Summer responds, not completely sure what to say, or think, or do.

“Do you actually like me?” Skye asks and Summer is tempted to respond with the needed ‘of course’, but her built-in bitch overrides her authority.

“No. I find you boring and self-centered, but you kiss like a Greek God, and I needed that in my life.”

He looks taken aback for a second and pulls her closer.

He gives her a toe curling kiss and releases her, “we could always just be friends with benefits. I do other things just as well as kissing”

With a disgusted look on her face, Summer pushes the cup of coffee away from her and realizes every craving for coffee got disintegrated with that offer. Will she ever be able to drink coffee again without thinking about the most irritating guy ever trying to get her in bed?

~*~*~*~*~

And that’s that… A bit silly, but fun to write, and also, not enough to put me off coffee =]

Lyrics to share…

So, I’m sitting here, with a lovely pizza, a nice cider and starting on my online writing course. And of course (along with alcohol and food) I need music. So I  put my playlist on shuffle and then this song comes on, and I’m in love…

I rediscovered Paramore when Robbie The Foreigner copied me the CD, and now I’m officially in love with them…

“Last Hope”

I don’t even know myself at all
I thought I would be happy by now
The more I try to push it
I realise – gotta let go of control

Gotta let it happen
Gotta let it happen
Gotta let it happen
Just let it happen

It’s just a spark
But it’s enough to keep me going
And when it’s dark out, no one’s around
It keeps glowing

Every night I try my best to dream
Tomorrow makes it better
Then I wake up to the cold reality
And not a thing has changed

But it will happen
Gotta let it happen
Gotta let it happen
Gotta let it happen

It’s just a spark
But it’s enough to keep me going
And when it’s dark out, no one’s around
It keeps glowing

It’s just a spark
But it’s enough to keep me going
And when it’s dark out, no one’s around
It keeps glowing

And the salt in my wounds isn’t burning anymore than it used to
It’s not that I don’t feel the pain, it’s just I’m not afraid of hurting anymore
And the blood in these veins isn’t pumping any less than it ever has
And that’s the hope I have, the only thing I know that’s keeping me alive

Alive

Gotta let it happen
Gotta let it happen
Gotta let it happen
Gotta let it happen

Gotta let it happen
Gotta let it happen
Gotta let it happen
Gotta let it happen

It’s just a spark
But it’s enough to keep me going
(So if I let go of control now, I can be strong)
And when it’s dark out, no one’s around
It keeps glowing

It’s just a spark
But it’s enough to keep me going
(So if I keep my eyes closed, with nobody home)
And when it’s dark out, no one’s around
It keeps glowing

Ahhh
Ahhh
Ahhh
Ahhh

Ohhh
Ohhh

It’s pure brilliance!!

Love always,

Marliz3e

People vs. Alcohol

Wow, that sounds like an extremely alcoholic title… But, stay with me for a second and you’ll understand.

Last night, struggling to enter the wonderful world of sleepiness, The Sister and I started comparing people to drinks, mostly alcoholic drinks, and it got quite interesting…

Here’s my list of comparisons, and the rather funny explanations… Also, this is a judge free zone, and meant to be funny…

  • The Sister – I have 2 comparisons for her, 1st – A nice glass of water – because I need it daily, a few times a day, and without it I would probably die. And 2nd – A Cosmo – Cute, perfectly made, and not much bite at first, but go on long enough and she will show you who’s boss
  • The Mother – A shot of Jagermeister – You’re not always in the mood for it, you don’t want it every day. And if you have to have it, you do it quickly. But then when it’s done, you realized it was not that bad
  • The Aunt and Uncle – The perfect bottle of Red – You struggle to find time for it, and when you have it, you try to savor every sip/second
  • The Neighbours (also known as the Best Friends) – A bottle of good bubbly – You can have it every day, on special occasions, for no reason, or for every reason. Just always good to have, and always there for you.
  • The Best Friend (also known as SweetyPie) – That perfect milkshake – You don’t get it everyday, but you get regular cravings for it, and when you have it, its wonderful =]
  • Robbie (also known as The Foreigner) – Jack Daniels on the Rocks (double of course) – It’s potent, it can knock you out, or keep you just on that happy level, and it’s best when you savor it, slowly and with care. It’s effect on you can be unpredictable, and the best way to enjoy it, is impulsively…
  • The 50 YO – Cheap rum – It’s not really good for anything except distraction and mindless entertainment when all other sources are out…
  • Me – A Gin and Tonic – Not to everyone’s taste. A bit different. Got a little bite to me. But if you like it (me) it’s the perfect thing after a long day… =D (and also, it’s my favorite drink, so why not) or that perfect cup of espresso –  a shock to the system, and only good if treated (made) right

So there’s my little funny ‘people are actually just drinks that came alive’-theory… Any comparisons of your own?

Feel free to play along =D

Love always,

Marliz3e