Friday, August 28, 2009

8.26.2009 Prompt

Write a scene about this man-perhaps a pivotal moment in his life - in the dunking booth, or elsewhere.*

It had been a rather cloudy day. Maybe that was why there weren't many people at the fair that day. A chill arose suddenly, and stroked Bozo's bones. As quickly as the chill came it vanished, and that's when he saw her. She had a wad of bills, and she was going to use them at Bozo's dunk booth. Bill looked pleased. Why shouldn't he? The day had been slow, and this girl seemed content to give Bill her money. How could Bill possibly misinterpret that glint in her eye? He saw excitement; Bozo saw hatred. Why not? He had walked out on her mother ten years ago, then turned his back on her when she found him two years ago. His daughter, his own flesh and blood. He'd wanted nothing to do with her, with the responsibility of being a dad. He didn't want the restrictions and burdens of being a suburban man. That wasn't his American dream. He wanted the freedom of an open road and to be able to ramble wherever his feet took him.She dunked him on the first try. She had a good arm. She didn't look any more muscular than when he saw her last. She picked out a small blue dog, and handed Bill three more singles. She dunked him again."Well done!" Bill yelled out. She threw two more balls, dunking him each time. Bozo was barely able to catch his breath before she sent him back into the water."My God," he thought, climbing back into his seat. "She's trying to drown me!" The chill picked up, and a small crowd gathered. "Bill," Bozo wheezed. "Don't give her anymore baseballs. She's trying to kill me!""You should have thought of that before you abandoned your family!" Bill replied. Bozo went under again. When he pulled himself back onto his seat, the wind had picked up. The crowd had dispersed, and Bill was chatting with Bozo's daughter. He ran his fingers through her hair, and she smiled."Hey!" Bozo called out, but the wind carried off his words. The rains came. Bill pulled Bozo's daughter into a passionate kiss, running his hands across her back, buttocks, and sides."Hey!" Bozo yelled out again, but he was drowned out by the rain, and now thunder. Bill walked off with Bozo's daughter. They were heading back to the trailers where the workers lived. Bozo tried to climb out of the booth, but he kept slipping. He wanted to call out his daughter's name, but he couldn't remember it."Oh God. How can I not remember my own daughter's name?" Bozo tried the doors of the booth, but they were padlocked. He tried to climb out yet again, but kept slipping."Bill!" he screamed out. "Bill!" But Bill had taken the girl into his trailer and slammed the door. The wind blew harder. The fairgrounds were empty except for Bozo. There was a scream- a high-pitched woman's scream that came from Bill's trailer. The wind carried the screams, a horrible disembodied sound. The rain and thunder stopped. The screaming stopped. The wind slowed, but never stopped. The door to Bill's trailer slammed open, and Bill stepped out. He was covered in blood. Bozo began to scream and bang on the booth as Bill laughed.

* The photo is of a man at a dunk booth. It can be found at . Look under the 8.26.09 blog

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Mistake Poem

It was only a
kiss. One month later, she says
the baby is mine.

Friday, August 21, 2009

Better Safe than in Love

Better to be safe than in love,
better than allowing someone to
break down your walls and leave you
naked and exposed. Better to keep
the best parts of you so they aren't used
and then dumped in the trash. Better
than having your life sucked out of you,
your heart trampled on,
your life turned inside out,
then told you're no longer worth it,
no longer good enough.
Better safe than in love.

Friday, August 14, 2009

Return Poem

He drinks with you, smokes
with you, parties with you- BUT
he returns to ME.

Thursday, August 6, 2009

7.15.2009 Prompt

He was going to make them right with a couple of pills or an injection, and people took him by the arm on his way to the sickroom. Flattering, but dangerous.

I knew what those pills and injections did, and I wanted no part of them. The doc and his nurses claimed they were meds, to make you feel better and act in a way that was acceptable to society. Hogwash, I say. Those pills did nothing but turn your mind into mush. They calmed your outbursts and turned you docile and easier to handle. Easier to control. Especially when good old Dr. Hogarth took you into that back room, the room behind the red door. No one knew what went on behind that door, because anyone who came out of there never spoke about it. They just sat on the couch, arms wrapped around themselves, staring vacantly out of the window. No one knew what was behind that red door, and no one wanted to find out. Jimmy wanted to find out once, wanted to find out without going back there with the doc. He went up to the door, and tried it. It was locked. This made Jimmy angry. He kicked and cursed at the door until Nurse James took little Jimmy away. The next day, Jimmy went through the red door with Dr. Hogarth and his assistants, Dr. Brannaugh and Nurse Long-Legs Anne. When Jimmy came out, he was just like the others: silent and vacant. We couldn't get a word out of him. We even sent Izzy to him. Little Dizzy Izzy, who could get Jimmy to say or do anything. He came back with nothing, crying at his failure. Izzy hung himself that night with the scarf his grandmother made for him just before she died. The powers that be were furious, of course. Dr. Hogarth had been in charge for four years and there had been no deaths under his watchful gaze. Under the previous rulers, deaths happened at least two or three times a year. Dr. Hogarth demanded to know who was responsible for Izzy's death. A pretty silly question, since he hung himself. I didn't realize I had said this out loud until Dr. Hogarth glared at me."Maybe it was you." he sneered. "Maybe you wanted little, innocent Izzy all for yourself.""No way man," I answered. "Izzy had always belonged to Jimmy. Everyone knows that. Besides, I like girls. Right baby?" I blew a kiss to Nurse Long-Legs Anne."Why you little...." Dr. Hogarht began, but was interrupted by Harry."Maybe he just didn't like what you did to Jimmy." he said."What's that?" demanded Hogarth."Well, after Jimmy came out, he just wasn't the same. He didnt seem to want anything to do with Izzy. Maybe Izzy couldn't handle the rejection and bit the Big One."Dr. Hogarth nodded, and walked off with Anne, whispering. After lunch, Harry went behind the door. This time it was different. This time we heard the screams. Anne hadn't gone with them this time. I followed her to the bathroom. When she came out of her stall, she was shocked to see me. Maybe a little scared? She tried to hide it."What are you doing? This is the women's room. You need to leave."I stepped closer to her. "What's behind the red door?""You know I can't tell you that." Anne brushed past me to the sink. I spun her around and shoved her against the mirror. She winced as her head connected. I unzipped my pants and showed myself."Please don't." she whispered."What's behind the red door?" I repeated. She whimpered, not answering. I lifted up her dress, feeling along her body. So warm."Again. What's behind the red door?""I can't tell you! You know that!"I began to pull down her stockings and underwear. "Last chance.""Electroshock! It's electroshock therapy." She was crying now. I looked at her with disgust and let go of her. She began to straighten herself as I tucked myself back in. I put both hands on her face and kissed her. When I pulled back, I smashed her head against the mirror. Over and over, until the mirror cracked and pieces fell on the floor and I was sure she was dead. I let her drop. Dr. Hogarth and Dr. Brannaugh busrt in."Too late." I said.Dr. Hogarth held his hand out to me. "Come along. It's your turn to see what's behind the red door."I shook my head. "I don't feel like electroshock today, Dr." I said, picking up a large shard of glass.

Monday, August 3, 2009

New Prompts

So, for those keeping track, I get a weekly poetry prompt from the Poetic Asides blog at Writer's Digest. There is a new blog, Promptly, that will be providing three fiction prompts a week of 500 words. So, hopefully, I'll get out of this block. It's been helping me a little. Hopefully I will break free of the block for good.