WP3: The Perfect Woman – By @DJayDancer1
WP3: The Perfect Woman
Pulled a few prompts of the net to practice my writing today.
Prompt 1: A dream you recently had.
One hour is enough but I need the whole evening.
You turn other dates into cancellations.
What if God just delivered a message to me.
What if my unconscious knows what’s best for me.
Waking up feels like losing my best friend.
I force myself back to the dark abyss of sleep just to see your face again. I have to get a better look.
You feel as close to me as the smoke that fills my lungs each morning, yet equally intangible.
As I wake up you begin to fade from my memory.
I grab ahold of your image.
But as I open my palm to look, I realise that you’re already gone.
Prompt 2: You made a promise to yourself you’d finally do it on the first day of the year. Today was the day.
It was only the first day and already I lacked the will to put one foot in front of the other.
Isn’t it supposed to be easy and fun at first? Then slowly descend into monotony until my body becomes heavy and unresponsive to the 6.30 alarm.
That’s how it usually is. Except this time I seem to have skipped the fun part. And Sudip is texting me to get up, just like he promised me he would. Like a deer in headlights, the blinding light of the screen has stunned my senses into alert. No going back to bed now, fuck Sudip for being a good friend.
Honestly, couldn’t he just forget about me, just once?
Stamp. Stamp. Stamp. 450 a day. Stamp. Stamp. Stamp. My arm moves with a robotic rhythm. Stamp. Stamp. Stamp. Holding my wrist firm, slamming my arm down from the forearm. Stamp. Stamp. Stamp. I don’t know what I’m sealing, I just do as I’m told. Stamp. Stamp. Stamp. It’s not that bad. Stamp. Stamp. Stamp. Boredom drowns out the noise and sometimes I get lost in daydreams. Until the hobbit in the cubical next to me starts making noise. STAMP. STAMP. STAMP. Then my senses are catapulted back into the present moment. Sigh. STAMP. STAMP. STAMP.
Prompt 4: Write a short story about someone in the self-help aisle of a bookstore. What book do they pick up?
Ooo that one looks cool.
What colour is your parachute, a practical manual for job hunters and career changers.
If ever there was a book I needed right now haha. If I have to stamp another god damn document I will end it all.
But not before blowing Jordan’s brains out and dancing in his blood. And I’ve got two left feet, so that’d be quite the sight.
I wring his girlfriend’s neck too, after I’d had fun with he… WOAH, Woah dude!
It’s just a thought, focus on your breathing.
You wanna get a new job without aaaany drama dude.
Breaaath, two, three, four, five, breathe, seven, eight, in, ooooout.
Chill. Buy the book and all will be ok, yeah? Yeah, I’m right. I’m always right.
I’m in control here.
I’ll never go hungry.
I have enough ammo for my great-grandchildren to hunt, if I had any left.
I just gotta decide when I wanna die. Sometime around the summer, I reckon.
I could turn the double barrel on myself.
Or go for hanging.
Could walk out and freeze to death. Got enough drugs to numb myself all over too.
I’ll leave it to the day. Let that decision be one the last spontaneous thing I do.
In a strange way, I’m glad my family were murdered pretty fast. They wouldn’t have had to see what became of their neighbours n friends.
Hell, even the pastor is running around eating people in the name of God.
Good thing I came out here cause there’s no people.
No matter how I do it, I will leave the door open. The wolves n bears can have me for breakfast, whatever gets here first.