Perfection- Short Story Submission_Lucy loses her friends, and her softball game_Hate in Building Ei
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Perfection- Short Story Submission
Trigger Warning: Mental health and implied self harm/suicide attempt. Not graphic. Not once in all of Her days of the concept called living, had She ever felt this way. This way, or that way? There was a right and wrong to things, so this must be wrong. It has to be or else She’s not perfect. Not once had She sank to the floor, wallowing in such grief that would rather be unspoken by communities and mothers. “My child isn't such a fool. She’s in tip-top shape, right sweetie?”Really mother? A mother’s image of perfection never fit her mold, impaling holes through the rubber where edges were to...
Lucy loses her friends, and her softball game
I never knew how getting punched in the face would feel. I figured I could imagine it pretty well, I’d been hit on accident before, tooth bloodied by a softball to the mouth at my second ever game at eleven years old. I remember my face flushing hot as I touched my mouth with a slightly shaky hand, pulling it back to see red blots on my fingertips. Tears welled in my eyes as I sobbed an ugly childish cry, teammates running over to comfort me. This was different. Maybe it was the intention behind it, or the impact of a human hand rather than the surprisingly hard “soft” ball. Maybe it was becau...
Hate in Building Eight
I pulled into my apartment complex and made a left, a right, then a left near building eight where my apartment is. I backed up my car into the parking spot The Alps Apartments gave me, shut the cwww.onedoor.ccar off, walked to the back of my car, opened the trunk, took out all my shopping bags that are holding all my goodies I bought including dinner. I approached the first of four flights of stairs it takes for me to reach my apartment number two. I stopped and pursed my lips. There he is, at the top of the stairs. Talking with someone…the same someone he always stands there and talks to for all hours of...
Life and Lemons
“When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” -Modern proverbial phrase.I should not have been using a paper bag for the lemons I was picking, after the morning's deluge. They were irresistible; large, plump, and waxy, an outrageous shade of yellow, like little suns peeping through the green foliage. I picked too many, and inevitably the dampened paper gave way, sending lemons tumbling over the lawn. Just then Sophie came around the corner of the house, and she knelt and helped me gather them up and place them in a pile on the step.‘I’m ready to go,’ she said, shaking her feathery dark hair out...