The Best Daddy In The World
Challenge: Write something desturbing
"Ellie Bean," daddy sang as he gently woke me. My eyes fluttered open. "Guess what you and daddy are doing today?" He picked me up and out of bed. He carried me on his hip as I rested my sleepy head on his shoulder. "We're going to the park and then to get some ice-cream."
I smiled in my sleepy daze and hugged him tighter. "Is today Sunday?"
Sundays were our self-proclaimed Daddy-Daughter Day. We would go out to the park, mall, pool, zoo, ice-cream polar, pizza places, wherever my heart desired. My daddy loved to spoil me. He enjoyed making me feel like I was the most important person in the world.
"No..." he said as he set me down at the dining table. "It's daddy's payday, and I just want to spend time with you on my day off." He smiled at me. "Is that okay?"
I nodded my head. "Yes!" I said as I bounced up and down in my seat with excitement.
"Yes." Daddy said.
"Here you go, love," Mommy said as she placed two plates down; one for daddy and one for me.
My mommy is not like my daddy. She is quiet and shy. My mommy is also very clumsy. She is always breaking things in the house and hurting herself. My mommy is a great cook though. She is always making yummy things like pancakes, waffles, eggs, bacon, everything.
She sat down at the table with us. Her eyes looked sunken in, and her lip was split. She lightly rubbed her purple and blue wrist as she often did. Mommy always wore tight jewelry that would cause bruising; daddy said it wasn't good for her, but she insisted because she liked pretty things.
"Mommy," I called with a mouth full of waffle. "What happened to your mouth?"
"Mommy just needs some chapstick." Daddy said. "When it's cold outside, and you don't wear chapstick that happens." He leaned over and tapped the tip of my nose. "That's why daddy always makes sure you're wearing some."
I chuckled lightly as mommy smiled faintly.
"Alright." Daddy said as he stood to his feet. "Time for us to get going." Daddy kissed mommy's forehead before putting on his coat. "Love you, Micky." He said to mommy. "Give your mommy a kiss, Ellie."
I kissed mommy on the cheek shortly after she helped me into my coat. "You're going out in your pajamas?" Mommy asked.
"Yes," daddy said. "Tell mommy why, Ellie."
"Because dreamers dress like dreamers."
Mommy flashed a stale smile before nodding. She looked exhausted and tired. I wanted her to go, but I knew that she was too sleepy to go. Mommy was always sleepy.
Our day was perfect. We fed ducks at the park, made our own pizza at Tony's, shared a mountain of ice-cream, and daddy brought me a teddy bear as big as I was. I smiled from ear to ear as the day came to an end. I never wanted it to end, but I was satisfied.
When we got back home, daddy carried me to my bed and tucked me in.
"We'll get cleaned up in the morning." He chuckled before kissing my forehead and brushed my hair back. "You know your daddy loves you, right?"
I nodded my head. "And I love my daddy."
He smiled warmly and nodded. He got up and turned on my nightlight before turning off my lamp.
"Sleep tight. Don't let the bedbugs bite."
I was soon deeply sleeping. My dreams were floating memories of all good things. I softly shifted in my sleep as my surroundings became noisy. There were soft whispers echoing off the walls like many nights before. They originated from my parent's room. I didn't pay much attention until they became too loud to ignore.
"Please...Alen..." I heard mommy say. "Alen, you're hurting me!" She yelled. "Please! Stop! Alen, stop!"
I sat up on my bed and listened.
"Alen..." mommy was crying now. I could hear the tears in her voice. "Alen, you're hurting me, please..."
"Mommy?" I whispered.
I got out of bed and started down the hall towards my parents' bedroom.
"Shh..." I heard daddy's voice now. "I'm almost finished." He sounded out of breath and tired. "I'm so close."
"Alen..." mommy cried shortly before her voice became muffled.
"Stop talking, Micky," Daddy said. "Let me finish."
I lightly knocked on the door once I reached it. The sounds behind it stopped. There was a long paused before I heard moving around and then the door opened.
"Hey, princess, why aren't you in bed?"
I smiled up at daddy. "I heard mommy crying. Is mommy okay?" I asked. "Are you okay too, daddy?"
A shirtless daddy smiled and picked me up. "Daddy's okay." He said. "Mommy's okay too. Do you wanna see her?"
He opened the door all the way and walked me in. Mommy laid on the bed in silence. Her body was covered with a thin sheet that had a strange red pattern on it. She looked sleepy, as she always had. She laid upon her stomach with those sunken in eyes. There were tears on her cheeks and a smile upon her fissured lips as she looked up at me.
"Mommy," I said as daddy held me. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, mommy," daddy said. "Are you okay?"
Her smile faded a bit. She nodded. "I'm okay, babydoll. I just had a bad dream, and my stomach hurts."
"Awe, poor mommy." Daddy said. He placed me down on my feet. "Go give mommy a kiss to make her feel better."
I walked over to mommy and kissed her cheek. I smiled, sweetly brushing hair out of her eyes. She was wearing purple make-up again. Daddy said that mommy liked to have make-up on one of her eyes when she was trying new products. She looked at me with a sad expression. She took me into a hug and just held me there. She began to cry softly with me in her arms. Mommy was emotional. Daddy once told me that that's just the way mommies are.
"I love you so much, Ellie," mommy said.
"Ellie, I'm going to make some tea to help mommy's stomach. Wanna come help me make it?"
I nodded my head and jumped up from mommy's arms. I walked over and took daddy's hand, and he led me into the kitchen. Soon after helping mommy with her stomach, daddy put me back to bed.
"Goodnight, daddy. I love you."
"I love you more, Ellie Bean."
I love my daddy. He is the best daddy in the entire world.
Come With Me
Challenge: A five minuet mind-doodle
Dance with me
The offer is here
The offer is here
The offer is here
Come float with me
The offer is here
Come down and just
Float with me
We'll go wherever you please
The offer is here
Search the world with me
We'll travel the seven seas
We'll find love and cure diseases
Come search the world with me
Come search the world with me
Search the world
Build a fire with me
We'll warm up the hearts of man
We'll build something that can stand
The test of time
Come build a fire with me
It'll touch the sky and
Fill us with glee
So come with me...
Just come with me..
Just come with me.
Not A Good Match
Challenge: Write a piece using only dialog.
"This is a bit of an odd question, but its been bothering me for awhile."
"Geavoni, do you like me?"
"I mean like...do you want to kiss me? Be with me?"
"I mean, I like spending time with you. I like the conversations that we have. I like being around you."
"...so...what did you mean by no?"
"I don't like being touched, Pierce."
"What does that have to do with being with me?"
"If we were together, I wouldn't want to kiss you, Pierce."
"I can't say my feelings aren't hurt."
"I'm not trying to hurt you; I am trying to tell you to move on. We wouldn't make a good couple."
"Geavoni, I love you. I want to be with you. I don't care what you say; nothing will change my mind."
"Pierce, you're in love with the idea of me. Ha, not me."
"How can you say that?"
"Okay, Pierce, do you love me enough never to have sex again?"
"Never to be held by me, or hugged, or kissed?"
"Why would you treat me so coldly?"
"I hate being touched. It may feel good to you, but to me, it feels like a thousand red ants exploring my body. It feels like pins and needles being bored into the surface of my skin. It feels like a blazing fire slowly consuming me."
"I've never had sex, Pierce. The idea, the very thought is disgusting to me. It sounds painful and intrusive. Pushing a part of myself into another human being does not appeal to me. It just sounds disturbing."
"We're not a good match, Pierce."
"We're not a good match."
Memories of a Man I Knew
Challenge: Write about your relationship with your father, whatever it might be.
My father showed up regularly. He loved me then.
My father showed up less. He knew the only way he could hurt my mother was by hurting me. She had broken the crimson cushion beneath his breast, and now it was his turn to break mine.
I had been awarded student of the month. Excitement poured from my beaming body as I saw my mother, grandmother, and aunt enter the building just moments before the ceremony.
I was showered with hugs, kisses, and gifts. I had been holding onto my mother when I saw him; a man that looked vaguely familiar. I struggled to guess who he was as he approached with flowers in hand. I turned to my mother and asked her, "mommy, is that my dad?"
She forced a smile upon her full lips and said, "yes!"
I smiled brightly and hugged him tightly. It's funny how children love their parents no matter how unfamiliar they are with them.
I had been hit by a car on my way from the ice cream truck. I laid in a hospital bed with my mom looking over me. My father had come, but he wasn't actually there. His eyes were on his watch.
"Daddy," I said. "If you have somewhere to be, you can go. It's okay."
And with that, he was gone.
I was seeing my father more regularly; he'd show up about three times a year at least. I felt like this could be it; this could be the beginning of him and I forming a beautiful relationship.
My father had gotten a divorce and only told me once he had gotten a new girlfriend. He took me on what he called a "family trip." He was acting as if he had been there; as if he had co-parented with my mother for fourteen years and helped raise me.
I decided to talk to him. It was late, and I could not sleep with it on my mind. I climbed down the stairs and went into his room. The conversation didn't go well and ended with me running out in tears. I went into the bathroom instead of into the guest room with the fear that he would come after me to continue the conversation. When he never did came for me, I was, ironically, more hurt.
I cried over him from time to time.
I hated him from time to time.
I did not think of him much.
"Dad, I just want to have a good relationship with you. You know?"
There is a long silence before he says, "well, what's stopping you?" He's smiling. He truly didn't get it, and could I blame him? He never had a father, but is that an excuse? I am not sure. I am just silent.
He tells me that he is proud of me; proud that I finished high school. For some reason this makes me smile.
I ask for his help. He is better off than my mother, and I wanted to go to college. He tells me he'll try, but he's not sure if he can. I tell him anything will help.
I get a scholarship, but I do not tell him. I want to see if he would help. I want to see what he would do. I tell him the deadline. I tell him that I may be kicked out of the university if I do not pay by this time.
The deadline passes.
He never calls; not to say he couldn't help out, not to see if I was okay.
I decide that I am done.
I will not try. I do not care or maybe I do; I am just to exhusted to even notice.
Things I Wanted To Say
Challenge: The Thing I Want To Say
My mother said, "you think of nobody but yourself. You are inconsiderate and selfish."
I said, "I'm sorry."
I wanted to say; "Shouldn't my history speak for me when I make a mistake? I am the one who holds you when you cry, cooks for you when you are hungry, talks to you when you are lonely, make sure that I am taking away as much of your pain as I can, and yet I am selfish? I give so much to you simply because you are my mother, and yet, you ignore all that I do when I make a small mistake. When I become forgetful, when I do the wrong thing; I am sorry for being human. I am sorry I will never be good enough. I am sorry that I am always the apologetic one even when I do nothing wrong. I'm just sorry."
My friend asked, "how are you?"
I said, "I'm doing well, and you?"
What I wanted to say; "Everything seems very strange. I am under a lot of pressure at the moment. My sister just left home without saying anything to anyone. She sent my mother a text saying that she wants to grow. I get what she means, but I am angry with her for leaving the way she did. She's only been eighteen for a week now, and she's already making reckless life decisions.
I have to study for finals, and I am afraid of my future. I am worried that I won't make it and that my dad will be right. He never said he doesn't believe in me, but he never actually had to. He didn't even want to help me go to college. Sometimes I feel I hate him, and other times I feel I just don't understand; like there is some way to make sense of it that I simply cannot see.
I am playing the role of mommy, maid, teacher, and therapist at home right now. I am also the desperate college student without enough time to herself. My mom's heart is broken because of my sister, and I keep trying to talk her out of the pain, but I honestly don't understand exactly what she is feeling. I am not a mother. I saw it coming. I knew my sister would do this. I knew she could not work under the iron fist as I can.
Other than that, I guess I'm floating. I want to say that I am sad, but I don't feel much of anything. It doesn't make me sad; it just irritates me. I hate having to split myself in so many different directions for people who don't seem to care. I have so much housework now, and sometimes it seems as if my mother would rather the housework to get done than my schoolwork. I guess I am kind of over it; I am just letting life happen to me now.
I said, "dad, I just want a better relationship with you."
He said, "well, what's stopping you?"
I said nothing. Just sat in silence.
I wanted to say, "you."
What will really destroy diversity?
Challeneg: Defend an opposing view as if it is your own
Interracial marriage will destroy diversity. The many beautiful colors and shades that we all naturally come in are being watered down, and children are no longer pure. Interracial marriage has created a generation of "muts." We now have children that have two separate identities; causing nothing but depression and crisis among youths.
These kinds of relationships will eventually cause the human race to be just human. We will no longer have the vibrate and beautiful culters of the Japanese, or the Indian, or even the Americans. All culture will have blended and mixed until there is nothing left to tell us apart besides gender.
This is something that we have to think about. Interracial relationships will not only produce sickly offspring, but it will also generate sameness. This would be like living in the world of "The Giver." Everyone would look the same a probably speak Esperanto.
This is why interracial marriage is dangerous. This is why we should all simply stick to our roots and marry those who like us. Keep the human race beautifully diverse.
One hundred and twenty-three thousand six hundred and fifty-six. That’s 123,656. That’s the number of followers she has on Instagram. That’s the number of people who think that she’s pretty. That’s the number of compliments she gets in her DM. That’s the number of years it’ll take me to look like her.
I found her, Daniel. I found her on instagram. I don’t know how I found her, but I did and she is beautiful. Her hair has this natural wave to it. It looks so soft I want to run my fingers through it. Her eyes are still as vibrant and green as they were in the cafe. Her skin has a glow to it. Everything about this girl is unreal. Hell, if we didn’t see her in person I’d say she photoshopped all her pictures. But I know she didn’t.
This is what I want. I want to be this pretty. I want to have sun-kissed skin and waves in my hair. I want to have bright green eyes and a waste that you can wrapped your arms all the way around. I want girls to follow me on instagram as their motivation. I want you to post pictures of me and not have to turn the comments off because, “people are stupid.”
Her name is رائع (Rayie), pronounced Raya. Literally meaning georgious in Arabic. And she is. She is gorgeous.
Listen, Danny, I am not jealous as in I hate this girl. She did nothing wrong. But I do wish I could be her. I wish I could be beautiful. I wish I could be thin. I wish I could be picked up by you. I wish people didn’t stare for all the wrong reasons. I wish girls were intimidated enough by me to leave you alone when we are out together. I wish I deserved you.
You don’t deserve me. You deserve better. You deserve so much better. You deserve someone like her. Perfect, skinny, pretty, funny, and coquetry. Someone who feels sexy with the lights on and who knows she’s pretty. Someone who you don’t have to constantly remind that she is beautiful. Someone like yourself.
But, Danny, I will never tell you this. I tell you that you are beautiful. And I know that you don’t believe me. But I fear that the day you do will be the day that you will leave me.
#prose #slampoem #beautiful #fiction #youdeservebetter