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wildecomic · 4 years
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“After the Prom”
He stared at her hand, following its journey as it rose from her lap to the carnation situated slightly east of her clavicle. What a pale little thing it was! He remembered how strong and terrifyingly frantic it seemed in the headlight’s glare.
“Sh-should’nt we get the police?”
“There’s no time for that, we’re already late. Just grab the other arm!”
The long and limber fingers cupped the flower, and the perfectly manicured nails contrasted with the white petals. The man behind the counter let out a quip, and through rippling reality the boy remembered to plaster a smile to his face.
“This is insane. What are we supposed to tell people?!”
“Nothing. Just act natural. No one needs to know.”
Funnily, he didn’t remember noticing the immaculate white tips until now. All he could remember was the blood, inching its way across the plains of her palms, almost as thick as corn syrup.
But here, in the fluorescent gleam of the diner, such a delicate thing seemed incapable of any cruelties. He was surprised there weren’t any stains or spots tarnishing such a beautiful feature. A fragment from Mrs. Wilson’s English class dashed across his conscious.
Out Damned Spot!
He couldn’t recall what it was from. He must have been too busy that day staring at the back of her beautiful blonde head and thinking of what to name their third son.
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wildecomic · 4 years
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Gaudium
I often miss my mistress in the night.
When I recall our time spent side by side,
My mind is quelled from mankind’s cruelest plight,
And sleep lulls me like Neptune’s dragging tide.
I see her in my mind’s eye dressed in green
Wand’ring, barefoot, along the dampened dales.
Or gliding through the city’s bustling scene,
Painting London with her joy-drunken tales.
Her love to me is like the rising sun
Unmatched in force, and making life more warm.
For fault in her, each man would find but one,
That he, lost her, shan’t bear the rising storm.
Come to me soon! For fear I shall grow cold,
And end the story I but yet have told.
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wildecomic · 4 years
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Haiku for Tuesday
I sag like Atlas
Under the big grey blanket
Life’s weight too much.
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wildecomic · 4 years
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Ink
Perhaps,
Ink runs thicker
Than blood.
When I lie with you,
And recount the imagined lives,
Treacherous tales,
And invincible heroes,
I feel cradled.
Soothed,
That these worlds we have painted
In the deepest midnight
Are everlasting
Between the two of us.
Assured,
That all that we share
Is pertinent.
And the most delicate imagery
Can be treasured in
A poem
Or a fable.
Enchanted,
That our reality exists in
Aqueous strokes across
Fine papyrus,
As easily as the
Fantasy in my heart.
I am content,
That the bridge between us
Is forged
By pens and promises.
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wildecomic · 4 years
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Today for my psychology course I took a Thematic Apperception Test to learn more about my personality. Participants are shown an ambiguous image and asked to create a story to accompany the image. I may have taken my response a bit further than necessary, or just down a very different road because my scores were very different from the scores of my peers!
Anyways, I’m actually kind of pleased with how this turned out. I don’t have a title for it, but I’ve also attached the image it was based off of below. Enjoy.
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"Loretta."
Loretta Diolio continued her incredibly important work moving specimens of microscopic fungi from one test tube to another. It didn't matter that Jane, her accomplished and trusting partner, had an urgent and stern tone to her voice. What mattered was that the samples continued moving, the progress of their study continued moving, and Loretta's mind continued moving.
"Loretta." Jane called again, this time with a bit more urgency and a sharp note to the third syllable.
Supposing that there wasn't a more efficient way to continue ignoring her, Loretta replied with an indifferent "Hmm?"
"Are we going to address...." Jane trailed off.
"I'm not certain. Are we going to address whatever it is you failed to finish your statement with? I'm not sure if we will address it. Especially not if you can't bring yourself to articulate your thoughts."
Color jumped into Jane's cheeks with her partner's critical response.
"There's no need to snap." The brunette mumbled as she made herself busy with the manila folder tucked under her arm.
"Then perhaps figure out what it is you wish to discuss, THEN approach me with a subject." Loretta's hand trembled slightly with the sudden influx of emotion, adding slight turbulence to the voyage several million spores embarked upon to make it to their new home.
"Are you this cruel to Henry?"
This lunge began the intricate battle. Loretta finished depositing a spore sample in its intended new residence, then placed the pipette tactfully upon the lab table.
"Do you truly believe you have a right to examine my relationship with Henry?" Loretta flexed her hand, examining the trustworthy extension of herself and purposefully ignoring Jane's longing stare.
"Only in one... distinct area."
"And what would that area be?"
"Love." Jane whispered earnestly.
Loretta froze. That single word caught her off guard. She, Loretta Diolio, a graduate of Harvard Medical School, a dominating lioness in the field of academic microbiology, and (as some would call her) a heartless bitch, froze in the middle of the perfectly clean laboratory as if she were a fawn in front of a semi-truck.
"W-what about love?" Her mouth was dry. As dry as a million cotton balls left roasting in the Gobi desert.
"If you love him." Jane's lips hardly moved. It was as if they parted for air and simply let out a loose string of syllables and vowels for pleasure. Not communication.
Loretta's pulse was incessant.
"No." The word fell from her lips like lead.
"No I don't."
Something tugged at the corner of Jane's lip. It was fast, and almost imperceptible, but it was there. A nymph perhaps. A nymph, fermenting mischief in a time of great sadness.
"Do you love me?"
"Undoubtedly."
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wildecomic · 4 years
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Sunday Morning
Sometimes I long
To
Pull you down into my lap
And
Worship you.
Praise you,
Like the deity you are
Clad
In a navy sweatshirt
And knickers.
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wildecomic · 4 years
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Repent
I repent.
I repent, after strides forward
Praises dropped delicately into the void, and
Rewards streaming forth from
Skinner’s stagnant box.
I repent.
I repent to Christ,
Odin, Vishnu, Baphomet,
Anyone who cares to hear my
Whimpered orisons at the
Rush of cold air and realization.
I repent.
I repent with the sight of blood,
A flood of pleasure mingled with lust,
And any numbing agent just powerful enough
To drive my guilt away.
I repent.
I repent by grasping the cat ‘o nine
And flinging it, desperately
Across my frame with the hope that
Stinging sorrow will drown and deafen any voice
of truth.
I repent.
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wildecomic · 4 years
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Hello! Thanks for the follow!
To be quite honest, I’m not sure what to tell you to expect from this account. I wanted a place to be able to post my creative writing tidbits, and by using this name/persona/brand I guess I’ll also share my ventures into the film and comedy world?
I don’t know.
Let’s just take it one post at a time.
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