#septemberwritingchallenge

Everyone tells lies sometimes.

He lies because he found a new love of his life, but doesn't have the courage to confess what's happening to her nor to his wife.

She lies for her plagiarised story not to be discovered.

He lies so his parents won't know he didn't pass the exam.

They lie because it was the only way to win.

She lies not to burden her already stressed brother with loosing her job again.

He lies to hide the scars on his wrists and pain behind a smile.

You lie because ...

And I?

I lie because I suffer from social anxiety and am too scared to tell you there is a stain on your shirt.

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“You have to start spreading out your celebrations,” Marco said, handing Ace one of the mugs of beer he was carrying. “You’re going to make me go broke.” 

Ace tipped his head back and downed a quarter of the mug’s contents before replying, “You’re a pirate. If you’re broke, you’re doing it wrong.” 

Hospital.

Tart.

Hospital.

Granny Smith tart.

Hospital.

The kind of tart that itches the tongue, puckers the mouth, and constricts the throat.

More than anything Shelby wished her dad would stop saying that word. He was an English teacher after all, he was good at finding other words off the top of his head. Crosswords had always been his specialty. Three letter birds, and seven letters for destructive. But not that word apparently. He just couldn’t find a synonym.

Hospital.

Crisp, sour apple taste cascaded across her tongue at the sound of that word, and she sucked in her cheeks instinctively.

A conversation had never used the same word so many times, but her dad sat there talking with her grandmother using that awful word over and over again. Without a thought for what it was doing to her. And she was expected to sit like a good little girl and mind her P’s and Q’s and not say a word while he used that word repeatedly until she thought she would throw up pieces of an apple she hadn’t eaten.

Hospital.

Bile soured apple chunks surging up from her stomach.

Why couldn’t he use another word repeatedly? One that tasted like something good? Friendship was a good word, it tasted like pumpkin seeds. Or horrible, a terrible word, but it was the warm saltiness of chicken soup.

Hospital.

Stinging tartness like razorblades on her tastebuds.

At least the flavoured word was distracting her from the reason he was using it. The gut clenching taste kept her mind from wandering back to that room in that place where a bed held a body that didn’t in any way resemble the person she had loved before.

Hospital.

This time she did gag, loudly retching at the flavour lighting up her senses.

The conversation stopped dead and her father looked at her, concerned. Her grandmother looked disgusted as she often did, ashamed of her “mentally ill” granddaughter who was always just “looking for attention.”

Shelby couldn’t stand to hear that word one more time, jumped up and ran out into the cool fall day. She’d wait until they were done with their repetitious conversation, and then she’d come back.

September Writing Challenge from @katywritesbooks

For many swimming is an exercise, difficult, an inconvenience. Too much changing, showering, nakedness. People are self-conscious in a swimming pool. Too aware of their own bodies, their swimming abilities, the pool depth. 

But for me, the pool is my special place. I grew up on a poolside, swimming multiple times a week and for hours on end. Now the pool is an old friend. It’s where I go when I’m angry, sad, happy, despairing and hopeless. 

As I glide up and down through the water, effortless, weightless. I’m reminded that I’m not terrible at everything. The water treats you the same no matter what mood you’re in. It surrounds me but I feel in control. My mind empties and everything becomes clearer. My problems seem smaller, more manageable. 

I swim a length underwater and my throat closes in. Panic sets in. Your body screams for release and it would be so easy to give in. But I power through, I overcome by bodies panic, something I can’t do in every day life when anxiety overtakes me. But in the pool, I rule that feeling. Breaking through the surface and I feel ethereal, the little mermaid scene playing in my head. 

But underwater isn’t just panic. It’s calm. It’s clear. Have you ever gone underwater and looked up? Watched how the light glistens on the surface? Looked at how it shines on the bottom tiles too? Pretty patterns you can’t duplicate exactly. Have you ever gone underwater and listened? To the muffled sound of voices? Bubbles rushing to the surface? To your own heartbeat in your ears?

That’s my favourite place. Sitting on the bottom of the pool and watching the light flicker.

When I get out of the water I feel rejuvenated. It feels like a fresh beginning, and I started by doing something I’m good at. I walk around poolside with my chin held high because this is my home, my domain. You can judge my body all you want, but most of you can’t do what I can do in the water. 

You're a liar.

You said you'd stay.

You lied.

I thought we were friends.

I thought we could be more.

I thought…

It doesn't matter what I thought.

You're gone, and you promised to stay.

You left me when I needed you most.

Now, I'm alone.

Some friend you turned out to be.

But where we ever truely friends?

To turn around and stab me in the back, is that what you intended?

You said you couldn't handle it anymore.

What made you think I could?

I know I can, because I will.

But you forced me into a situation I didn't want to be in.

And it made me better.

But when you left, I cried.

I wanted to curl up in a corner and die.

I thought about it, did you know?

I don't know if I hate you.

I don't know if I can ever forgive you.

#septemberwritingchallenge by @katywritesbooks .  All characters and ideas short of the prompt itself are mine.  Please do not judge my writing too harshly and please do not steal my work.  Thank you.  

____

It was pretty obvious the kid hadn’t been anywhere near water before now, besides the hot springs where the Kappa lived.  Pure astonishment, followed by admiration, then thrill, crossed his face.  His dark eyes reflected the sunset.  I heard Lindsey laugh.  

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked.  Yako just nodded, grinning, barely containing his excitement.  I glanced back at Trish, who for once in her life was at an equal loss for words.  She’d never been here before, either.  Lindsey and I had, though.  Plenty of times.  After all, it was by sea that I’d gotten from the Aussie subcontinent to Los Angeles.  Ports were the best places to find business and news.  And most importantly, ports were the best places to find smugglers.  Because unless we planned to swim south to the Capital, there was no way besides illegal transport to avoid the Golden Crown from here. 

I looked to Prince Henry.  

“Do you trust me enough to find the right captain, your Highness?” 

He gave me a weary smile.  It was the first time since we’d met that I had used his title, and he seemed unused to it.  

“I do, Leland.  We’ll wait here.” 

Day Three of the September Writing Challenge by @katywritesbooks. Featuring more characters from The Autumn Door, this time 13 years in the future. Thanks for tuning in!

“June 2nd,” he said to himself. The words were fire in his throat. He’d always hated the day—took it off work, went to church, and pretended the rest of the world didn’t exist. It had been thirteen years since he was dragged away from everything he knew. The iron cross at his neck warmed him and kept him safe from those terrors. “It’s June 2nd.”

I admit. At the moment I wasn't thinking of what consequences might bring.

I slammed you aginst the wall and my, for so long contained emotion shot through your heart as a bullet.

Thank God the rain washed away all the evidence.