Category Archives: 100 Words + a Photo

#310 ~ One Hundred Words and a Photo: 30

picture30A promise. I would capture your memory and lock it to my ribcage, interlocked bones wearied from age, bearing up under the weight of a memory, a promise.  I locked my heart to that fence and sealed it with a kiss, framed in words. That I would capture my memory and lock it to these pages, within this post of words that have flowed, with an unrecognized depth from my lips, releasing the ossified cage, interlocked, weary from age. And all along, she flowed beneath me, whispering a promise, a cold promise, fathomless, with dead bodies that would not forget.

Copyright: Death of the Writer – my own photo to finish the show

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#309 ~ One Hundred Words and a Photo: 29

picture29On her knees she crawled slowly towards the bloodied altar. Covered in plush velvet, the drapes hanging like lazy fingers over a steaming bath, they mocked her, the twisted gold threads frayed and singed at the end, the debauchery of its wealth.

She knelt before it, head raised, mouth slightly open, palms splayed upwards asking, begging. Which God did she worship? She could hardly remember as the sound of leather cracking through the air stroked her shoulder. Was this tenderness? The crass neon lights glimmered, laughing, an ugly harsh laugh in the depths of darkness. Which God did she worship?

Copyright: Victoria. O

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#308 ~ One Hundred Words and a Photo: 28

picture28I hated that picture. You know the one, of the bay. So perfect it was fake. So bright it gauged my eyes. Why did we ever frame it? She was never very good at taking photo’s anyway. They were too…neat, so linear, like the press ironed lines  of her A-frame skirt. The colors were lifelessly rich. The street unstained, no one walked on it – like her closet, never worn, picture perfect boredom. Why did we ever frame that bloody picture, of the ferris wheel rising in the background, the giggling and laughing that never creased into a smile?

Copyright: Victoria. O

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#307 ~ One Hundred Words and a Photo: 27

picture27

They have no idea they’re merely reflections. Look at them, heads bent, focused, so intently focused on ascending, but they’re just descending. Into the pit. Into the abyss, back into the reflections of the fake marble floors which reflect them back up onto the walls, the ceiling, the escalator which is never-ending. Oh these poor people. Caught, suctioned into the court with no exit but an eternal entrance into the gaping jaws of – levels, levels, the ascension of descent into the pitfalls. I just need another, another level, another layer, then i’ll go..over there back into the court.

 

Copyright: Victoria. O

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#306 ~ One Hundred Words and a Photo: 26

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He liked order. Control. Later they said he had a condition. He couldn’t help himself, he didn’t have – how did they phrase it? – a choice. He was compelled. Light and dark. 180 degrees. Polished. Three inches between each pair. Don’t just leave them there, he would yell, rising from his chair, put them in their rightful places. Rightful places. Inside the cupboard. 180 degrees. Polished. Three inches between each pair. Rightful place. Control. Order. It wasn’t just the shoes. He was compelled. He couldn’t help it. Light and dark. The colour of my face as I found my rightful place.

Copyright: Victoria. O

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#305 ~ One Hundred Words and a Photo: 25

picture25A blurred heartbeat, and the tendrils of water drizzled across my face softening the edges of the elements cool embrace.Feet poised to move, as small whirlpools sucked me to the spot that had not a single dry patch or island that I could resuscitate myself upon, I was a  fuzzy heart-shaped heartbeat, with just enough life left to pulse, one, two, three-

In the dim grey lights that lit the strip of street that I could see, out of focus in this sea of mild grayness, I saw the checkered spike of her coloured heart-beat, one two, me?

Copyright: Victoria. O

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#304 ~ One Hundred Words and a Photo: 24

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I watched myself running into the wilderness, braids stiff in the sultry summer wind, darting into the shades of heavily laden branches. Lost, with a purpose. Soles slapping concrete like the hi-fives I always missed. I watched myself. Running off into the distance. I shouted, asked myself to wait, impatient, you impatient child. STOP

Deaf I watched my shadow running off into the distance. My lungs had to beat faster, as I disappeared like Peter.

My shadow was running back as I ran away, watching myself running off into the distance, braids flying stiffly in the sultry summer – time.

Copyright: Victoria. O

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