9. Janice

Tags

100, affection, character profile, death, drugs, girl, http://ibecameashepherd.blogspot.com/, hundred, one hundred words, past, prompt, relationship, writing exercise

Janice, with her ponytail over her shoulder.
Janice, with her apple blossom cheeks, flushed when they smiled sweet.
Janice, arms draped around and around, limbs askew on him, on you.
Janice, with her long lashes touching, droopy-eyed, lost too long in her high.

Janice, always in a Mister’s lap.
Janice, wearing your baseball cap.
Janice’s arms lazy and limp around your neck.
Janice, climbing in that car, minutes before you left.

No nights, no days, no sleep to differentiate.
No tears for you, no coffin in the ground.
Just a daze, eyes all a glaze.
Years before you would awake.

7. Bleached Coral

Tags

100 words, aging, Bonaire, character, city, coffee, coral reef, exercise, experience, fast, http://ibecameashepherd.blogspot.com/, island, life, ocean, one hundred words, pace, past, profile, slow, train, tropics, urban, writing prompt, youth

Thought I saw you on the train today as those tired eyes caught sight of mine. Saw beneath the shadow brim, shifting greys hiding a wrinkling face. I’ve seen you differently before, skin aglow, dancing with youth and light. I knew you a traveler, a good doer. As in motion, as a curious seeker. A morning waker coffee drinker.

You step carefully in new cloth flats around puddled sidewalks, rain waterfalling down subway grates. Measured and slow, left risk at the front door. Searching for rewind. Lifeless and aged, a bleached coral changed by this undercurrent of cold winter waters.

6. Hot Water

Tags

100 words, acting, chorus, coffeeshop, creative writing, drama, exercise, finances, http://ibecameashepherd.blogspot.com/, money, one hundred words, play, prompt, Starbucks

Just a cup of hot water for me, said she.

What for? the chorus, cheerfully, from rafter beams.

I have that Via coffee packet from Starbucks, she explained, hands drawing stick figure pictures in the space between. Casually gesturing toward her things. The chorus transitioned from listening to snickering as she blahblahblahed about baristas and markout coffee, explaining these actions of anomoly to the air.  Words on mute floated towards high ceilings.  The chorus departs; she remains there.

Surely they could not see. The facade hidden beind her, behind me. A free cup of hot water and no money.

5. Contest Winner

Tags

100 words, cell phone, driving, exercise, http://ibecameashepherd.blogspot.com/, Kentucky Derby, London, one hundred, prompt, radio

The stop sign came  so quickly, the white line disappearing beneath the front tires with friction and force, pushing me toward the dash.  He’d nudged his cell phone from his front pocket, between  seam and seatbelt and was juggling it like a hot potato in his fat welding fingers now, driving, but not well.

The answer was Giacomo.  Dad would be the twenty-seventh caller.  “Oh my gosh, it’s ringing,”  he whispered.  “It’s never rung before.”  London, London, London, he breathed.  Held the phone to my ear, I nodded.

“Keep listening…” the radio boomed.  The flip phone clicked in Dad’s hand.

4. Concussion

Tags

100 words, athletics, concussion, exercise, hockey, http://ibecameashepherd.blogspot.com/, life, NHL, one hundred, Pitsburgh Penguins, prompt, Sidney Crosby, sports, writing

I felt the hit, lowered my shoulder.  With my face like flint, pads lowered into the force, I waited for the pushback. For the equal and opposite push that him hitting me and me hitting him would return, smashing us both into the corner boards.

Instead, I felt a falling sensation. Not the equal and opposite that I expected from a solid shoulder check. My vestibular sense had betrayed me. I’d misjudged his angle. I felt his shoulders graze and bump me on the wrong side as I writhed and twisted to see where I’d gone wrong.

Black. Ice. Nothing.

3.First Day of School

Tags

100 words, exercise, gossip, high school, http://ibecameashepherd.blogspot.com/, Michigan, one hundred words, rules, school, teacher, teaching, writing prompt

I remember hearing hallway chatter, recounting big decisions.  Little high school freshman, yesterday, unsure whether to wear an over-the-shoulder bag, canvas, or a traditional backpack, fox racing logo on the strap.  No more 8th grade.  That day, it was my first day, too.

I wore gladiator shoes, white, the day after Labor Day. White pants and a sheer, navy blouse, knotted at the neck, designer, from a shop in Soho, New York City. Through the fabric, my tattoo showed. The students saw it that first day. The ink that broke the rules. The new teacher, here and gone.

Whisper, whisper.

2.Limes

Tags

100 words, Corona, exercise, food, grocery, http://ibecameashepherd.blogspot.com/, life, New York City, NYC, one hundred words, writing prompt

No browsing, no basket, no list tonight.

I make the avocados tumble from pyramidal piles. A case of Corona, cheese with jalapenos, bagged together on the street with the rain. The longnecks kiss my knuckles with their cold on the way home.

I’ve forgotten the limes. Only naked-necked bottles of Corona, no limes. I won’t fold fajitas without a citrus squeeze over the meat. A new receipt. Holding the cold case, both hands, a thigh.

This city moves so fast; these clocks wear thin. I can’t move through the motions without a list. I’ll, each time, forget the limes.

1.My Love

Tags

100 words, airport, exercise, http://ibecameashepherd.blogspot.com/, new york, one hundred words, waiting, writing prompt

I stood where the airport spit out beautiful people. In New York, there are only beautiful people and also, today, me.

I stood waiting on the corner where he’d said wait, wondering if coming was best, if any of my daydreams would be burst apart or fashioned together when he drew open the door of a yellow cab. A lip, mine, flushed red from nervous nibbles. A nail, right thumb, pulled clean to the pink bed in fidgets. It’d been two years.

He wore headphones the same around his neck. Still the straps of the old backpack showing. My love.