Story For The Week 5-4-2021

 BY ATHLING2001

JSW Prompt 4-30-2015 Response

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psycho path

I couldn’t help adding this picture when I ran across it..


I am broken.  Horrible way to introduce myself, I know.

“Hi, I’m Broken.  Nice to meet you ….”  Not!

Horrible and yet, why should I be ashamed?  Better hair, better skin, better teeth.  Better body.  Whooo boy, that’s a big one. Bigger than I that’s for sure. Much bigger.  So who and what am I? I can’t change, can’t make myself tall or shorter (for longer than I can squat), prettier, nicer, happier.  Seems like we always want the thing that we aren’t.

But back to me.  I was born broken, or so I’m told.  A wrinkled little prune of a baby boy, covered in blood and cawl.  I noticed I was different when I was four, fascinated by the flies dying on the windowsills and floors, snatched from life by the Mother’s flyswatter.  Maybe the Mother knew by then, but maybe not.

I knew and that was all that mattered.  In fact, from then on, I was all that mattered.

Lots of people think of psychopaths as Hannibal Lecter, Tom Ripley, Becky Sharp from Vanity Fair or everyone’s favorite psychopath, Dexter, and rightly so.  The important point, however, is most of you *don’t* think of psychopaths as the neighbor next door or the woman in the cubical.  You actually think we’re…. normal.

Don’t you know being a psychopath is the best thing in the world but it’s not normal, not by a mile. At least not in the way the world in large defines normal.  But aren’t we all different?  Aren’t we all psychopathic in one way or another?

Maybe we chose our own lives, our own paths.  I’m assured by the ‘New Agers’ this is correct.  We choose out lives, our trials, what we need to learn in each life.  Actually, I like the mental image of me in my baby form sitting there, all the paths of the world laid out before me.  I could be anything or anyone I want.  A President.  A King.  Famous equestrian. A poor, broken, woman in a war-torn land. (Not sure why anybody would choose such a thing but then I’ve never understood the thinking of the bovine masses.)  Are they too afraid to stand apart and shine?

Out of all those choices, however, I chose this path, the path of a psychopath.  I am not afraid to stand out and shine.  I love standing out and shining.  What I love even more, is dazzling the masses with my shine while they think I am as normal as they are. The dictionary defines a psycho as:

a deranged or psychopathic person —not used technically’

Think about that.  Then tell me what path you would choose.

Sunday Photo Fiction 9-17-2017

© John Robinson

UCLA’s campus lay deserted, shaded dorm windows honeycombing out like cells in a beehive. A quiet break from the push and pull of students searching out tiny grains of knowledge, buzzing here and there, carrying each nugget carefully back to their cell at night.

His sneakers made little noise on the pavement, hands stuffed in jean’s pockets. He’d be gone soon, a semester at Julliard, a dream since forever. The band thought they’d lost him, or would lose him, once he arrived to the esteemed halls.

Who cared if the band he’d inherited here was called The Pink Marshmallow? Names changed all the time (and this one would). What if they only played tiny clubs and dark basements? Venues changed.

They would be famous one day. He wouldn’t allow otherwise.

The band met him at the curb.

“We wanted to wish you a good trip,” Jay said.

Chris hugged each one. “See you after Christmas.”

He’d given up convincing weeks ago. It was enough he knew he’d be back.

A taxi pulled to the curb. Giving them a thumbs up, he slid inside. Julliard might be a dream, but those four, they were his future.

Leaning back in the seat, he began to hum.

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers 8-27-2017

This week’s photo prompt is provided by Yarnspinnerr.

Guide for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

1. A prompt photo will be provided each Tuesday to be used as a base to your story. Please include photo prompt with your story.

2. Linking for this challenge begins on Tuesday and runs to the following Monday evening.

3. Please credit photo to photographer.

4. The story word limit is 100 – 150 words (+ – 25 words). Please try to stay within this limit.

5. Pingback to the challenge post in your story’s post.

 

Chris and Jay leaned on the hotel railing, looking down at the bronze and gold fence and the estate beyond.

“Fancy enough,” Jay remarked, eyes drifting down to the line of what looked like tiny pots. “So what do think those are?”

Chris’ gaze followed Jay’s. His first thought was drums. It was not a serious thought, but his mind tended to see music before anything else. After a moment, he suggested:

“Incense burners?”

“Odd country this,” Jay mused, slight smile on his face.

It was the bands first time in India and the culture differences fascinated them all.

“Can you believe we’re actually here?”

“I always told you we’d be here,” Chris reminded him, breathing in the scent of a foreign land; a land he would come to explore and love in the years to come.

“Yes, Swami.”

They bumped shoulders.

“Life is good,” Chris said.

“Amen,” Jay responded.

And so it was.