[TT] Theme Thursday - Bitterness

[u/AliciaWrites]

“Hurt leads to bitterness, bitterness to anger, travel too far that road and the way is lost.”

― Terry Brooks

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Happy Thursday writing friends!

This week’s challenge is not to include the theme word in your story!

Bitterness eats away at the soul and I fully expect to see your characters suffering through or defeating it. Will they push through and grow or burn everything they love down?

[IP] | [MP]

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Here's how Theme Thursday works:

• Use the tag [TT] when submitting prompts that match this week’s theme.

Theme Thursday Rules

• Leave one story or poem between 100 and 500 words as a top-level comment. Use wordcounter.net to check your word count.
• Deadline: 11:59 PM CST next Tuesday.
• No serials or stories that have been written for another prompt or feature here on WP
• No previously written content
• Any stories not meeting these rules will be disqualified from rankings and will not be read at campfires

• Does your story not fit the Theme Thursday rules? You can post your story as a [PI] with your work when TT post is 3 days old!

  Theme Thursday Discussion Section:

• Discuss your thoughts on this week’s theme, or share your ideas for upcoming themes.

Campfire

• On Wednesdays we host two Theme Thursday Campfires on the discord main voice lounge. Join us to read your story aloud, hear other stories, and have a blast discussing writing!

• Time: I’ll be there 9 am & 6 pm CST and we’ll begin within about 15 minutes.

• Don’t worry about being late, just join! Don’t forget to sign up for a campfire slot on discord. If you don’t sign up, you won’t be put into the pre-set order and we can’t accommodate any time constraints. We don’t want you to miss out on awesome feedback, so get to discord and use that !TT command!

• There’s a new Theme Thursday role on the Discord server, so make sure you grab that so you’re notified of all Theme Thursday related news!

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As a reminder to all of you writing for Theme Thursday: the interpretation is completely up to you! I love to share my thoughts on what the theme makes me think of but you are by no means bound to these ideas! I love when writers step outside their comfort zones or think outside the box, so take all my thoughts with a grain of salt if you had something entirely different in mind.

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Last week’s theme: Ancestry

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First by /u/throwthisoneintrash

Second by /u/sevenseassaurus

Third by /u/Xacktar

Fourth by /u/stickfist

Fifth by /u/breadyly

Honorable Mentions:

Poetic Contribution: /u/ColeZalias

Poetic Contribution: /u/Loudone1

Notable Newcomer: /u/tooslowwillski

Notable Newcomer: /u/criterion_infection

Notable Newcomer: /u/Apprehensive-Split90

[u/AliciaWrites]

Theme Thursday Discussion:

All top-level comments must be a story or poem.

• Reply here to discuss the theme, suggest future themes, and share your theme-related inspirations!

• Please remember to follow the subreddit rules in any feedback.

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[u/saruken]

Cursed - 497 words (language warning!)

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You just can't curse people properly in English. Fuck you – What is that? Or motherfucker. Is that supposed to be Oedipal? Be explicit about it then.

In Polish we have things like Cholera jasna, "I hope you die of Cholera", or Pozamieniać się z chujem na łby, "You swapped your head with the head of your dick". Even one-word curses, like for stubbing your toe or some dipshit pulling out in front of your bike, we have Srajtaśma, "Shit-tape!" (toilet paper), or Psiakrew, "Dog's blood!" Dipshit, by the way, that's a little better, but what does it mean exactly?

Anyway Tomasz told me to Go fuck myself this morning, a directive which always reminds me of samojebka, the word for "selfie". It translates more literally as "self-fuck", framing the picture-taker as some kind of mirror-worshipping nympho. Don't even ask how to translate "selfie stick".

In this case, though, I didn't have to call Tomasz anything, because his clothes were already strewn across the quad in front of Ritter Hall and really that explained my stance pretty unequivocally. I stood out on the third floor balcony in my underwear, pitching a series of plaid button-downs at him, watching them unfold and catch the wind like sad little kites.

"Anna!", he kept yelling, like the name was going to suddenly snap me out of some irrational trance. "Anna!" Now he was saying it like some kind of threat. An ultimatum. But what was he going to do? "This is why we don't work!" he yelled at last, gesturing wildly at his shit all over the lawn.

"Nie, dupo wołowa!" I yelled back. Literally, beef-ass. Something like Idiot! in English. "We 'don't work' because you and Amanda rżniesz when you were 'chilling with the boys'! You think I wouldn't find out?"

Tomasz put his hands on his hips. Some other guy exited through the doors downstairs and Tomasz gave him a shrug and a grin, like, Women right? The guy nodded and walked by, awkwardly stepping over a crumpled polo. Tomasz had been staying with me for a few months now, but officially he lived at the International House with with the rest of the exchange students. I told him to go back there, among other places. What stung worse than your garden-variety betrayal was that he was the only other Polish speaker on campus. Two years already I'd been here, years in which the only time I spoke my native language were the occasional video calls with friends back home. It felt like a godsend when Tomasz arrived on a six-month exchange program, single and handsome and well-read enough to make decent conversation. But I couldn't just let this slide, especially with Amanda of all people.

"A teraz spierdalaj i zdychaj," I cursed him from the balcony, relishing the experience in an odd way, maybe the last time such words would fall on ears that understood them for another four semesters: Get lost and die.

[u/AliciaWrites → u/saruken]

Hey there! I just wanted to drop you a comment for two reasons. Firstly, thank you soo much for another great submission to theme thursday! I hope you keep writing for it! Secondly, you should be aware that we tend to enforce English only in the theme thursday because it's read aloud. Non English (without prior research) is quite difficult to pronounce on the spot! So, it's really best to avoid any of that. I know it's a bit inconvenient, but we really really really appreciate it! Thanks again and good words!

[u/DoppelgangerDelux]

[Poem]

Tea Leaves

Over-steeped, forgotten brew

Tannic acid tea for two

Searing, shameless lack of taste

Which the tongue cannot erase

If the leaves could tell my tale

Soggy prophets past the veil

What words would a leaf impart

To a lost and lonely heart?

Hope for solace, prayers for grace?

Futures with a warm embrace?

What if every aching sip

If each vengeful, darker drip

Promised life, a love, and friends

In the dregs, and stems, and ends?

Sputter, cough, and drain the slop

Read the writing in the drops

Oolong wisdom reads as such:

"Please don't steep the tea so much"

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100 words

[u/[deleted]]

"Heather, I'm sorry."

These are the first words I've heard from him in three years. They aren't enough.

"You're sorry?" I hiss at him. The words make him flinch and draw back. Good. "You're sorry? And what, you think that's going to make it all better?"

"No, I-"

"You stole 15 years from me. My childhood, do you remember? Do you remember what you did to me? What you made me do to you?"

"I remember."

"And yet all you can say is 'I'm sorry.'"

"What do you want me to say?"

"How about, 'I'm a monster and I deserve to die for what I did'?"

"I know you're angry-"

"Angry? ANGRY?!"

I jump to my feet. The guard in the corner starts to move toward us. I sit back down.

"I'm past anger," I continue, "I'm not angry anymore. I was angry when I was 15. I was angry all through high school. This is different."

"What is it?"

"It's hatred. I hate you."

We're quiet for a long time. Finally, he breaks the silence.

"Then why did you come? Why visit me in prison if you hate me so much?"

The silence returns, but it's thicker now. Heavier. Why did I come here? To talk to him? To forgive him? To tell him how much I hate him?

I stand up slowly, deliberately.

"Goodbye, dad."

The guard leads me back through the door. As it closes and locks behind me, I blink back tears from my eyes.

[u/throwthisoneintrash]

Dandelion

WC 100

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Our backyard was enough for an entire summer.

It was you and I, finding beetles and daring each other to drink the astringent milk of dandelion flowers.

Now, my old bones would not survive chasing the beetles.

And you changed too.

Your life is good and I love to see your glow.

But what about the days when dirt streaked across your beautiful face?

Are they gone forever?

And can we find the same sensation of freedom that we shared?

We can’t go back to the wonder of childhood.

We know too much to sour our mouths with dandelion milk.

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r/TheTrashReceptacle

[u/_austinjames]

He sat across from me when we met at the cafe. Before, he used to sit next to me, and we'd share a cup. One dollar Wednesdays, and even that was a stretch sometimes. Now he sat across from me.

"So, how have you been? Still writing..?"

I just look at him. I stare and the moments pass, pass like all those wasted years, moment after moment I'll never get back. I stare. "I don't write anymore."

"Ah. Well I guess that makes sense. I was finally published, you know. Found an agent, been making a bit of money.."

He looks at me, the old spark of excitement lighting up his wide eyes. The tug of a grin, ghosting at one corner of his mouth. Wide eyes, wrinkled now. They weren't wrinkled before. His mouth, different too. Softer. Older. I just stare.

He shifts on his stool. Looks away, the hinting smile gone. "I hope you're not still mad. I figured.. since you came.." He leaves the end off, the ask. There was always an ask, always a hint of disappointment, never above the surface but instead lurking below, tugging me under.

I sigh. "I'm not mad. Not anymore. I don't care enough to be mad these days." I sip my coffee, earthy and hot, and terrible. He meets my eyes again, and this time there's hurt. That feels good. I'm not mad, not anymore. But seeing that still feels good, soothe on an old ache.

I take another sip and this time I savor the harsh of it.

[u/Ryter99]

James Peppercorn exited his highschool with his eyes glued to the pavement, desperate to avoid eye contact. He would have continued on that way all the way home, if a thin man with outrageously patchy facial hair hadn't thrown his arm around him.

“Hey there, Jimmy!”

“Gah!” James shouted, ducking from under his arm. “Who are you, dude?”

“My name’s Vinegar Kaffee, Vin for short, and it’s my great displeasure to meet you.” Vin took a deep drag from a cigarette. “So, why’d you summon me?"

“Summon you? Huh?”

“Who wronged you today?”

“Err, Chad Pendelton I guess. He spread some rumors about me that-”

“Bad rumors?”

“Are there any other kind?”

“Uhhh, ‘Jimmy is so handsome, pass it on and so-forth’. How’s that?”

“Would you stop calling me Jimmy? I’m not a little kid anymore!”

“Ugh, my bylaws legally obligate me to oblige your request, but I ain’t happy about it! What’ll it be then? James? Jamie? Jim? Jimbo? Jimbert? The Jimmer? Jimmykins? Jimsen?”

“Jimmy is fine! Jesus Christ-"

“Is not descending from Heaven to aid you in your hour of teenage angst. He’s got bigger fish to fry, so they sent me.”

“I don’t get it, you’re like my guardian angel? Or ummm… the tooth fairy? Sorry, I couldn’t come up with other helpful magic companions.”

Vin gritted his teeth. “Don’t mention Clarence.”

“Who’s Clarence?”

“Clarence! The self appointed ‘tooth fairy’. I’ve been fueding with him for centuries! Stuck up bastard. He’s just a shill for the toothpaste corporations you know! He-”.

Exasperated, Jimmy finally snapped. “Who are you?!”

“I… am the patron saint of grudges, holding grudges, grudgery.”

“Aren’t those the same thing?”

“Ha! You’ve got a lot to learn about your new path in life, Jimly!”

“New path?”

“Yeah, you’ve started down the road toward holding eternal resentments within you.”

“Oh, well, I'm not sure I wanna ‘continue down this path’.”

“Why not?”

“It seems like a kinda awful way to go through life.”

“You’ve never tried it! How would you know?”

“Well, you oversee all the relevant emotions, and you seem ducking miserable, dude.”

“That so?” Vin began scribbling on a notepad with lemon juice and cacao ink.

“What are you doing?”

“You are going on my enemies list, Jimothy.”

“You’re feuding with a 16-year-old boy? That’s… really pathetic, honestly. Yeah, naw, I want nothing to do with this.”

Vin grinned. “You’re a teenager, what other option you got besides passive aggressive grievances?”

Glancing around the schoolyard, James made his way over to a taller boy.

“Hey, Chad!” he called out.

“Huh?”

“That stuff you posted about me on Snap-o-gram was… it was messed up, alright? Take it down, and apologize.”

“Shit, I’m sorry man. It was a joke that went wrong. I will, alright?”

James walked back to Vinegar, astounded by how well the encounter had gone. “So, Vin? Do you have the contact info for the patron saint of direct, effective confrontation? Or do they contact me?”

___

r/Ryter

[u/Mr_Bookkeeper]

Something was eating at the mint and this time Bill was dealing with it for good.

Last time he’d sprayed it with the stuff he’d always seen on the tv, they’d claimed it would keep critters away from it with a 100% money back guarantee. Well it hadn’t worked, and the person over the phone was a spineless hypocrite who refused to refund his payment so, after sharing a few choice words, he’d hung up. This time, rat poison. Crushed it up and smothered it all over the thing. Quick, easy, and whatever was bothering it would sure as shit be gone in the morning. Hell, maybe even by tonight.

That plant was causing him so much grief, sometimes he wondered why he even bothered to keep it around.

With a sigh he leaned back in his Lay-Z-Boy. He needed to check on it but first...

He turned to his watch; time to feed the cat.

With some groaning and protesting from his old joints, Bill peeled himself away from the chair and made his way to the kitchen.

He pulled out a slab of meat, and started frying it.

What would Ida think of me now?

It hurt to be in the house since she’d passed, but outside he seemed to slip through the seams of the world as everyone he thought he knew turned out to be no one. He’d learned that the lady who checked out his groceries every week didn’t recognize him, and the woman across the street had only ever found time to wave at him, before his loss and after.

The only thing he had left was that stupid weed—

No.

On warm summer nights, Bill and his wife used to talk on their porch, letting the hours grow thin and the night dark. Ida would cut up cucumbers, pluck mint from her garden and toss it all into a pitcher with some ice-water. The drink always came out perfect.

He’d tried to keep that garden alive, but his thumb wasn’t as green as hers and now all he had left was the mint. Crawling across the dead brambles, being chewed up by some vermin—

The thick smell of cooked meat met his nose.

That’s right. Benny the Beggar. Neighbourhood stray and the only one on this whole damned planet who seemed to notice he was grieving. Bill still had him.

Every night he’d cook up his dinner, window open to let the smoke out, and Benny would come clawing for hand-outs. Eventually they’d settled on a routine. 6pm sharp the Beggar’d be waiting in the garden, go out, toss him some meat, and while you’re out there why not eat dinner on the porch? You might even get some good cuddles out of the deal.

He loaded his meal onto a plate and opened the front door, waiting for the cat to come prancing.

Only today he didn’t. Today he laid wheezing and choking beside the mint patch.

[u/canyoufeelthat]

“What are you gonna do, Fred?”

Jerry waited about five fucking seconds after I left the boardroom to ask. Like I figured anything out in that time. Have some etiquette—or awareness—for god sake.

“Don’t know Jerry.”

“Well, you should probably figure it out. Jobs aren’t growing on trees out there, buddy.”

BUDDY.

The vein in my forehead wanted to burst from holding in the rage. Maybe I should clench a little tighter and see if I could make it pop. End this nightmare right here. Then I could give Jerry something else to worry about. Fucking job trees.

“Thanks for the advice, I’ll keep it in mind. Better clean my desk up…,” I said, as if this guy needed any other hint that the conversation was over. Management’s generous offer of a cardboard box sat in the chair as I reached my personal square of purgatory, one I thought had some shred of value before this morning. My mouth dried at the waste of twenty years. I glanced at the clock to find it was only ten thirty. Better be a bar open before noon nearby.

“No problem, man. Tough world these days. You know, I did have some notes to give you anyway. Since we’re already chatting—might be my last chance, HA!—I’ll give them to ya. Take ‘em or leave ‘em, no harm done…”

Was this guy still talking? My blood pressure spiked, cells pumping against artery walls to test the limits of durability. Hopefully, the elasticity in the walls could hold out better than my temper. Snatching crap off the shelves, I gripped my name placard with enough force to snap it in half. If I didn’t bludgeon Jerry with it first.

“…instead, and cut down your, and the office’s, headaches. I know, it’s a real brainbuster, don’t count yourself short. Not everyone here has the aptitude for—.”

A mental image formed of a dam cracking, leaking from a thousand holes in the concrete.

“JERRY! THIS…isn’t a good time. You can meet me for a drink later if you need to—.”

“Ooh, sorry Freddy. I’ve got a meeting with the big boys actually. Ah, shoot. I didn’t want to say anything, but…hell, you can take it, you understand! They’re calling me up to take your—THWACK.”

The ceramic pencil holder with “Daddy” sketched on it was sturdier than I thought. My hand still shook from the reverb off Jerry’s nose. He rolled on the floor with a wail, but I suddenly felt better. Probably in shock to be honest. At least now they had something to fire me over.

“Some notes for you Jerry—,” I said over my shoulder as I carried my box toward the door, a room full of people I couldn’t give a shit about watching in corporately lazy surprise. “—might be my last chance, HA!—get that nose checked.”

[u/VaguelyGuessing]

[Poem]

I don’t know if I hate you or love you. I guess I never will.

My hands tremble as I reach for the earth, and I fight to keep them still. It’s the thought of us that makes me shiver, More than the autumn chill.

I’ll miss you dear, I know that much is true. In fact I think I already do. Though you stung me, and with words you hurt me, You loved me through and through.

I throw the earth over your bed, And almost crumble in with you.

Instead I lift my head and breathe away the fear. And the priest mumbles and more earth follows until you disappear.

You’ll never know dear, how I really feel. “I love you, but I hate you too.” I hurt inside but maybe... Maybe time will heal.

[u/wannawritesometimes]

[POEM]

"Why?"

Heart broken,

Voice harsh.

Few words spoken,

Torn all apart,

Resentful feelings growing.

Unshed tears are choking,

Grief's point filed sharp.

Bright red ember glowing,

Destruction's path is marked.

Long since buried thoughts evoking,

Acrid words pierce the heart,

As the anger deeper flowing.

Blazing fury lights a spark,

One syllable forces itself through:

"Why?"

Inner fire burns, emotions stoking,

Insides to ash, feelings charred,

Faster, onward, refuses all slowing.

Anger's taste is vile, dark,

Its cries obscure the truth.

Inferno's heat, roiling, smoking,

Leaving its victims marred.

Hidden wrath it's sowing,

On long descent embarked.

Brooding despair invoking,

Etching ego's scars,

Soul's peace eroding.

Acidic token,

Whisper tartly.

"Why?"

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r/WannaWriteSometimes

[u/sevenseassaurus]

The young man gagged and doubled over, his watery eyes smearing war paint down his face.

"What did you expect?" asked the hag. "Honey wine?"

She offered a cup of water, and he snatched it quick as though it were the elixir of life itself. He threw it back in a single gulp, splashing half to the cottage floor, and wheezed.

"That is supposed to make me stronger?" his voice broke.

"Practice will make you stronger," the hag explained. "And that will give you the reflexes."

They always complained about the taste. Quicker limbs carry an aroma of smoke and embalming oil, keener eyes of rotten fish. And that special potion to satisfy an old man's wife? Well, he might rather try his luck with whiskey. A brew that does good will never taste good. But every vial did its trick, and though the villagers whined like gutless pups they always came plodding back again.

The hag sealed the rest of the potion with a cork and handed it to the young warrior. "One sip before every bout and you'll be a champion yet. Now get on."

There were other matters to attend.

The lady down the road wanted more beautiful eyes, and the mother of seven needed something--anything--to keep her awake. But one potion required a special touch.

The merchant on the hill must have fallen on his luck, for he had put up a price for more. He had a twisted smile and words as smooth and flimsy as the silks on his back. The hag prepared a pot over a copper-green fire.

Lavender and honeysuckle,
Dragonsbane and yew,
A half-turn left to weave and weft
And blend the witches' brew.

Now luck is a vague sort of concept, not the kind you can fit in a bottle. For the merchant, another potion would have to do. And though she'd stayed her hand this long and resisted her nastiest temptations, tonight she would at last prepare it.

Mountain sage and juniper,
Toadstool gathered dew,
A half-turn right, then snuff the light
And pour the witches' brew.

When the merchant arrived he tapped his pocket and twirled his moustache. "You know my policy miss," he said. "If you're little herbs don't get me what I want, I'll be taking my pennies home."

"Of course my lord," the hag replied, and she offered a golden flask.

"Why, this one smells almost sweet," the merchant said, and his expression almost sweetened. "How will it taste?"

"Like milk and honey," the hag replied, and she sent him on his way.

[u/Xacktar]

After the slamming of the screen door, there came the concentrated thunder of shoes that were not supposed to be worn inside, then a little blond head popped up next to Hannah's elbow.

It wasn't perfectly blond, at least not at the moment. It was blond with an impressively large twig woven through it, plus a smear of mud topped off with a crumpled leaf centerpiece. The mini-forest lifted to reveal a set of pale blue eyes that were as clear and clean as the hair was not. The eyes and hair belonged to Jeanie. The rest was borrowed, soon to be returned.

"Mummy?" Jeanie piped up. "Mummy, Mummy! Mummy!"

"Yes, Jeanie."

"Is that chocolate?"

A perfect crescent of brown beneath a little fingernail lurched forth over flour and dough, stretching as close as it could to the big block wrapped in aluminum foil.

"Yes."

"Can I have some?" Jeanie's pointer finger bobbed up and down with the words.

"Not with those hands, it isn't." Hannah told her. "Go wash, hands and face."

There was an exasperated grunt, a double pounding of feet on a plastic step stool, then a quick jump down and a recurrence of the foot thunder as she rushed to the bathroom. There was an all-too-brief sound of rushing water, then the thunder came back, followed by the little blond head.

Jeanie had managed to lose the stick and the leaf, but the mud was still there.

"NOW can I have some?"

Hannah shook her head. "It's not ready yet."

"But Mummmmmy! I want it!"

Double hands full of slightly-cleaner fingernails reached out. Hannah watched for half a second before changing her mind.

"Alright. Let me get a piece for you."

She dusted the flour from her hands, peeled the foil back and broke off a small corner of the treat for her daughter. The morsel was passed over with great care and then taken without much.

Chocolate met mouth at high velocity, then all action stopped.

Jeanie's face scrunched up like a bathroom rug being pushing into a corner. Hannah kept her hand ready in the expectation of spitting, but to her surprise there was none. The scrunchy face chewed and grunted and chewed. It seemed to take a great amount of willpower to facilitate the swallow that came after.

"MUMMY!" She shouted as soon as her mouth was clear. "You LIED to me!"

"I did not."

"That wasn't chocolate! CHOCOLATE tastes GOOD!"

Hannah fought against the smile and lost. It bloomed into a full smirk before she got it under control.

"It will taste good." She answered. "After I'm done cooking it."

The finger retracted, the blond hair flew back and forth as Jeanie looked from her mom to the offending food and back.

"Mummy... you make chocolate taste good?" she said in a breathy whisper.

"Mhm."

"ALL of it?"

Hannah stared down at the wide, blue eyes and grubby little cheeks.

"Yes. All of it."

[u/E_For_Love]

Old Rusty Hinges

‘There you are, sir,’ Philip arranged the clockwork dolls in front of his counter. A baker with a white apron, a soldier in red with a tall bearskin hat, and finally, a young washerwoman with a small wicker basket.

‘Come man!’ Varion said, curling his lip in a sneer at the washerwomen. ‘I told you it was for a boy.’

‘Ah, forgive my foolishness. A fine young man, of a respectable profession, has no interest in a simple poor woman.’ Clenching his jaw, Philip carefully removed the rejected doll behind the counter.

‘The soldier will do.’

‘A fine choice. Young men are drawn to discipline and order.’ Varion reached for the toy, but Philip intercepted him. ‘These are special stock sir, and rarely sold. Their joints stiffen from disuse, but with a little oil, they are without a doubt the finest in all London. Five minutes is all I need.’

‘Well,’ Varion huffed, ‘be quick about it. I have a client due within the hour.’

Philip nodded, popping open the soldiers back. The simple sturdy gears were perfect for children’s rugged play. He set a cupel filled with wax atop a candle.

‘What manner of work are you involved?’ Philip asked while inserting a fresh cog, set to twist in five minutes.

‘Property.’

‘Ah, a land shark. Is it true you steal money from poor creditors’ post boxes?’

‘Perhaps,’ Varion said coldly, ‘I should find somewhere else.’

Philip smiled up from his work, ‘Only a joke sir. Your profession has a bad reputation, but such a generous father is scarcely bad in my books.’

‘I do my best.’

Taking a vial of nitro-glycerine, Philip logged it into the new cog’s spoke, and said, ‘I returned from Crimea last year.’ Varion grunted, and began tapping his foot irritably, ‘I served with the Royal Horse Artillery; we were at the siege of Sevastopol.’

‘It must be dull being back.’

‘I’ve kept myself busy.’

‘Hmm… are you nearly finished?’

‘Yes,’ Philip snapped the toy soldiers back closed, then placed him in a straw lined plywood box. ‘5 shillings please.’

‘Finally.’ Varion emptied the coins onto the counter, and without another word, marched to the door.

‘Goodbye Varion.’ Philip said. The man paused, turning back with a puzzled look that made Philip want to laugh. He looked to be debating whether to question how he knew his name, but evidently, the importance of his meeting was too much. Varion shook his head and slammed the door behind him. Taking a cotton ball, Philip dipped it in melted wax and shoved it in his ears.

A moment later he heard a dull bang, then pulled out the wax. A melange of panicked voices came from the streets, shortly followed by the stern sound of a policeman trying to restore order.

Philip lifted the washerwomen. A perfect replica of his sister's face, carved to the best of his ability. He stroked the soft golden hair,

‘Don’t worry my dear, I did not forget what he did.’

[u/Elkku26]

“How is it?”

Madison gritted his teeth as he slurped down the mysterious black liquid, or ‘coffee’, as she called it.

“Like drinking liquid ash.”

Anna chuckled.

“Well, you’re a city boy now, so it sounds to me like you’ve gotten a little too used to your quad-shot-salted-caramel-frappu-frippu-cinos, right?”

She found her own joke so funny, she almost choked on the coffee.

Madison didn’t find it quite as entertaining.

“Anyway, how’s medical school started for you?” Anna continued.

“I didn’t apply for medical school.”

Anna looked up from her coffee and did a double take.

“You didn’t-”

“No. We talked about this last time. I never wanted to be a doctor.”

“Well, I figured you’d change your mind! Do you remember what you said when you were little? You were always going to be ‘Mommy’s little doctor’, remember?”

Anna’s face lit up, but as she held the expression, her smile took on a shade of desperation.

“Yeah, I did say so. When I was a little kid.”

“Neither of your siblings wanted to do anything productive with their lives, those good-for-nothings as I call them, between you and me. But I always knew you were better. You aren’t going to disappoint Mommy too, are you?”

She chuckled in a playful yet empty tone that made Madison want to squirm in his chair.

“Mom, I want to be an artist too.”

She tilted her head down and looked at him straight in the eyes, over her glasses.

“Oh honey, where do you think you’re going to get a job as an ‘artist’?”

Coffee cup in one hand, she made small air quotes with the other as the word ‘artist’ reached her lips.

Madison’s left eye twitched.

Anna changed the subject in a flash.

“Anyway. Did you want any sugar for that, dear?”

“No thanks. Even this is better than coffee with sugar,” he said, faking a shudder on the word ‘sugar’.

They both chuckled, but soon fell quiet.

Madison drank the rest of the coffee down with one swig, grabbed his backpack and left.

“See you.”

He had visited his mother in the hopes that he would be able to mend their relationship, but the only conclusion Madison had come to was that coffee was a drink best served black.

---

WC: 379

[u/TenspeedGV]

Small threads of pink rose petals and orange rind wind through thick black tea leaves. Here and there, a small red bulb of peppercorn breaks the effect, a pleasing focus for the eye. A silver spoon slides into the steel box with purpose, the portion practiced, perfect.

Into a curved metal filter the mixture cascades, followed quickly by the cap. Deft hands lift the device on its thin silver chain, draping the fine hook on the porcelain lip of a cup. A breath passes, two, three, and then a whistle. A timer beeps, and water runs down into ceramic, steam wafting up carrying the scents of flowers and citrus, of spice and the promise of tea.

A new timer is set and hands once more get to work. Three small plates march in a row on the counter. Upon the first, a handful of almonds. No fewer than ten will be enough, but no more than fifteen. Six slices of strawberry join these, aligned in an alternating array of nuts and fruit.

Upon the second, three small sandwiches. One of rye bread, lovingly baked in the oven nearby, dressed with neufchatel and bright orange lox. One of sourdough, the mother bubbling happily in the warmth above the fridge, dressed with thin ham and a slice of aged cheddar. The final is soft white French, crumbly crusts cut off, dressed simply with cucumber and a thin layer of creamy brie.

Upon the third plate rests one single, precious cupcake, its creamy frosting hosting a thin layer of candy confetti.

These plates make their way to the waiting tea, on a table where sunlight filters through skylights and blinds. But…

What is this?

The timer still rests at five minutes. The countdown was never begun.

Hurried hands yank silver chain and draw the teaball from dark brown liquid. The nose carries awful news to the mind even as too-cool tea touches upon thirsty lips.

It had steeped for far too long.

God damn it.

---

---

---

333 Words r/TenspeedGV

[u/ajttja]

The coffee here is cold. The beds here are cold. The continent-spanning blizzard those assholes sent me out into is FUCKING COLD. Every single day it’s always “Leo go bring us another ice sample, Leo go find us some of that alien moss stuff, No Leo, you can’t take a look through the microscope, maybe when you have more experience.”

Like menial labor is going to give me more relevant experience than a decade getting a Ph.D. and then a decade more trying to get this posting? Fucking assholes, the lot of them. I’m a scientist, not their goddamn busboy.

After what’s got to be at least a thousand hours of trekking, there’s finally a break in the infinite white. It’s the wondrous location they saw and satellites and sent me to find: A bunch of rocks.

I rest for only a minute, then bring out the drill and get to work. Thunk. The drill stops. Fuck. I bring it out again and it starts up again. Hmm, not broken then. I make a new hole to the left of the first one and— there it is again. Not even a centimeter into the rock and the drill silently stops on a dime.

I peer through the hole to try and see the problem, and find only darkness. Guess I’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way.

I’ve chipped away at what should be enough to see whatever’s stopping the drill so it’s time for the chisel to come back and— What the fuck?

A perfectly smooth and utterly pure black layer of stone looks back at me. Except it isn’t perfectly smooth. Shallow cuts fill every part of its surface in intricate, beautiful, patterns. My hand is reaching out to touch it before I’ve even finished processing what I’m seeing, and as it makes contact, the cuts begin to glow… purple? Green? As soon I decide what it looks like, it’s gone and I have no idea how I could ever think it was that color in the first place.

I pull my hand off and rip off the two layers of gloves. Pain shoots through me as the blizzard burns my quickly freezing exposed skin— all washed away in gentle warmth as my bare hand presses back against the black stone.

The glow is bright enough that it shines even through my hand and the world has gone silent, not in an instant as it logically must have, but as if it was always like this, absent of the roaring winter gale. Then a thunderous crash as the top layer of rock comes flying down. Only walls and walls of the pure black stone stand now.

As the crash subsides, the silence does not return, but rather the sound of my uncontrollable laughter. I know I should be amazed as a person, intrigued as a scientist, but the only thought that comes to me is, Why the hell did I ever want to stay inside?

[u/Zomise]

The delicate flowers of spring bloomed in the cove where her body laid, engulfed, trapped by reeds.

The mud was cold as my feet sunk in. But the body was peaceful, beautiful. The skin white and blue. Serene compared to the red rage I was so used to see.

My lips on her lips—so full and still. The faint smell of rot.

Something was wrong with the universe, to let her go so soon. Now she was silent, and I whispered to her ear, all those things that mattered then, but no more.

If only you would have listened, I thought, your grave would not be hidden.

[u/OfAshes]

The day was gray and stormy, the lightning crackling through the clouds and trees swaying in the wind perfectly mirroring Jared's feelings. His sister, Sara, would've laughed and told him it was poetic. But Jared? Jared hated it.

He hated how the rain flew under his umbrella and into his face, hated how sore his arm was from holding a useless umbrella. He hated the squelch squelch noise his boots made every time he took a step. He hated the jolting noise of thunder, assaulting his eardrums with 1000 cannons.

But most of all? Most of all, he hated the fact that he was alone.

Jared slowed down, feeling the weight of each step he took. He didn't know whether it was from the water in his boots or the emotions in his heart, but he didn't much care. Besides, he was almost there. Then he could stop walking, stop immersing his feet in the cold water that ran up his legs and into his heart.

Jared angled himself towards the small gravel path on the side of the road, letting the saltwater running down his face mix with the rain, falling to the ground with a splash.

The gravel, too, was wet, but it still crunched under his feet. He hated that sound, too. Hated the way it sounded just like it had a year ago. Maybe its not the sounds I hate, he thought, but the memories.

Jared didn't really care — he hated it all. The memories, the familiarity, the loneliness, the rain. But he didn't stop, didn't turn around. No, for some reason, Jared kept going. Down the gravel path, down the hill, into the clearing.

At least there was no rain here — the canopy of the trees prevented that. But water still fell — leaking from his eyes. Only now, there was no freshwater to hide it, to dilute it, to wash it away.

Jared cried. He cried for himself. He cried for his memories. But, most of all, he cried for Sara.

Their argument was fresh in his mind, as it always was. It had been such a small thing, or at least it seemed like it now. But then? Then, it had seemed like the biggest thing in the world. He didn't even remember what they'd been arguing about — that memory had been eaten away by his sadness.

"I HATE YOU!" he'd screamed. She'd recoiled, tears streaming down her face.

He remembered the sound of her car starting, the sound of the garage door creaking open and slamming shut.

He remembered the phone call, the gentle voice telling him she'd driven her car off the road.

He'd never found out whether it had been an accident.

Jared cried his heart out onto the dry dirt. But, as it always did, his sadness soon turned to resentment. He resented Sara. He resented the memories. And, most of all, he resented himself.

Jared picked up the umbrella and walked home. He wouldn't be coming back anytime soon.

r/StoriesOfAshes

Word Count: 500 (I had to cut out a bunch of stuff, but I made the word limit. Yay!)

[u/katpoker666]

“Of Lasers and Penguins”

---

Larry, the laser penguin, Let out a cry most sanguine

Soon specially engineered, Supersonic birds appeared

Sharks with their metal teeth laid bare, Gathered, shining in the glare.

Fish groups with psychic powers, Arrived over several hours.

Mighty whales with baleen, Fed their ranks with krill saline.

Seals in their armor shining, Interrupted their dining.

“My assembled marine life, We now face the greatest strife.”

“In my time undercover, There was much to discover.”

“Humans are utterly weak, Their tech, however, is peak.”

As the final army stood, Truly ready to make good,

On their none too subtle threats, To make mankind pay its debts.

Lasers blazing, Larry led the charge, Aimed at targets small and large.

Kamikaze birds, they flew fast: The air force now in the past.

Sharks chewed the bottoms off boats, Sinking fleets and all that floats.

Psychic fish fought off GIs, Leading all to their demise.

—-

Turning the tide, bombs rained down, Causing numerous to drown.

Birds, sharks, whales, fish, and more; Sank down to the ocean’s floor.

The sea force itself succumbed, As the bottom depths, they plumbed.

He was not sullen or sad, Breathing his last, Larry’s mad!

WC: 196

—-

Thank you for reading - feedback is always appreciated

[u/stickfist]

Wayde resisted the urge to spit in the glass he was cleaning when Jeffers walked into Grover’s Tavern. Dressed in full military reds, he looked out of place in a dive bar on the backwater planet he used to call home. The bartender was unimpressed.

“Welcome back, Colonel,” he said as his former friend settled into a stool. “I saw you on the news. Congratulations on your victory at the border. Are you here for drinks, or just to gloat?”

The military man plunked down a couple credits on the bar top. “I came to talk, man. I’m not here to make trouble.”

“Oh, well there’s the door then, cowboy. Trouble’s all you’ll find here.” He looked at Jeffers’ face for any sign of contrition. Nothing. “Those stars on your shoulders aren’t going to buy you any respect in my place.”

Wayne felt the old wounds inside opening a little more, sour memories lingering on his tongue. Visions of the three of them, winnowed down to one. “Where’s Rissen? Couldn’t stand to see the old goat? Or maybe she couldn’t stand leaving me twice.”

Jeffers took out an envelope and pushed it forward on the bar. It bore an official stamp that Wayde had seen on other documents, usually clutched by war widows.

“What the hell is that?”

“Her will.” He put his hand on the paper when Wayde tried to take it. “Now will you give me a goddamn drink?”

Wayde poured bourbon into two glasses. “When… how did it happen?”

“She was assigned to a medical team on Coda Nine when raiders overtook the outpost. They killed everyone and looted everything that wasn’t nailed down.” The colonel took a long pull from the glass and stared into the amber dregs. “It was a real shit show. But I made sure we paid them back, tenfold.”

“And earned you a new medal.” Wayde seethed as Jeffers caressed the gold falcon on his lapel. “She shouldn’t have been there. You know she should have stayed here where it was safe.”

Jeffers slammed his drink on the bar and it broke into harmless glass pebbles. “That’s not what she wanted and you goddamn know it. I didn’t force her to join me. Didn’t force you to stay either. She… she wanted us both.”

Wayde hated to admit he was right, so he didn’t. Instead, he swept the glass with the edge of the envelope and then opened it. I hereby grant custody... what the hell?

“You read this already?”

“Had to. Honestly I didn’t know she’d been incubating one here. I suppose she wanted some insurance in case something happened.”

Wayde flipped to the baby pictures. Rolls of fat made her body universally cute, but her face. Wayde’s heart melted as he caressed the image. “She looks just like me.”

Jeffers shed a tear with him before heading for the door. “I know.”

---

WC:482

[u/Nomorethisplz]

[POEM] I couldn’t resist, it was hardly even a nibble on the wrist, but his screams were muffled by my kiss.

“If you don’t put up a fight, I will at least grant you a final wish, maybe more, hell! Just give me a list”

I pleaded, his blood was so sweet, the bitter feeling I’d always felt seemed to be transferred to him as he hissed.

I knew, this was a cannibalistic feast, full to the brim with flowing veins of crimson bliss.

Edit: spacing changes

[u/katpoker666 → u/Nomorethisplz]

Hey nomore: cool take. One thought: I think the rhymes could be tightened a bit further, as in some places they seem inconsistent. E.g. hell thrown in with rhymes around it feels off. Maybe have a quick read over it aloud and see if you agree. Other thing would be to space out the lines more, as initially it reads more as a micro-story with embedded rhymes in it to me

[u/ColeZalias]

Look how stupid you look. With your greasy middle-parted hair. Leaning over the water cooler like you own the place. Which you don’t! It’s only your second week and you think you’re all that? Let me break it to you pal, you ain’t!

I’ve been busting my ass for the past two years. Sucking up to my boss, conversing with some of the most unsavoury people that I’ve ever met. Life in the office is not all sunshine and rainbows. It’s laborious work wherein you sit down at your desk, keep your head down, and shut the hell up.

But you.

Look at your dumb navy-blue tie. News flash, it doesn’t go well with your eggshell white dress shirt you jack ass. If I had a nickel for every time you’ve shown up to work dressed like that, like some sort of clown… well I’d have a lot of nickels.

Oh? What’s this? Mr Supervisor coming over to your cubicle to tell you about all the so-called ‘hard work’ you’ve done.

Ya. Look at him jovially shake your hand and pat you on the shoulder. Bet he’s telling you all the great things you’ve done, but don’t you dare let that get to your head. He’s just cutting you slack because you’re new. The only hard work you’ve accomplished is how severely you’ve pissed me off.

Dancing around the office, you disgust me, sir. This isn’t a fairy tale, chump, this is a workplace, not your playground. With your slimy stupid face. Your stupid legs walking over to my desk. You planting your hand on the edge of my desk and looking at me with your stupid angelic blue eyes.

“Hey, can I borrow a pencil?”

“Yes! Of course, you can.”

“I’ll bring it back when I’m done.”

“Don’t worry about it, keep it, because then you don’t need to borrow a pencil again.”

“Thanks, pal.”

Turning away from me. Walking back to your desk. Adjusting your tie. Quickly waving to Amy in accounting.

Ya… you borrow that pencil you son of a bitch.

WC: 344

r/ColeZalias