Starting over, yet again.
Imprint (Pt. IV)
The alarm started going off at 5:30am, but Sophie managed to hit snooze twice before the profanity-laced arguing started. It got louder and louder as more people started showing up outside the unemployment office, and by 6:00am, we had no choice but to get up.
The Way It Was
For as long as I can remember, it sat there, on the charming, oak, side table in my mother's bedroom. The corners were folded so crisply that they formed sharp points. Perhaps that was one of the ways she intended to keep its contents out of prying children's hands, but it hadn't always worked. In fact, I did know one thing about that box covered in faded brown paper. It was quite heavy, or at least it seemed so to me, at about age six when I tried to lift it off the table. My mother, who had been brushing her hair in the dresser mirror, saw me only after I had slightly lifted it from its assigned position. She immediately spun around, launched herself across the bed and swiped it from my hands.
Franz gently stirred the dark chocolate bars until they were partially melted over the double boiler. Then gradually adding the carefully prepared, thread-thin, sugar water, he combined them into a smooth, silky, pool of decadence. His taste buds tingled, and he began to salivate as the aroma of cocoa wafted through the air.
"So you're saying this entire thing is a sham controlled solely by the government with no alien involvement at all," K scoffed, "That seems highly improbable."
"But, what if they aren't vengeful, terrible, awful beings?" "What do you mean?" he seemed perplexed, "If they aren't awful beings, the narrative doesn't work."
The Flower Girl
Ikebana. The Japanese always seem to have their shit together, don't they? Thousands of years ahead of us, at least when it comes to creating zen in their lives. Ikebana, is the Japanese art of flower arranging that began developing in the 15th century. While it did take several centuries to become a mainstay in the culture, today, it is seen almost as a form of therapy, allowing one to change their mood by "influencing the ambiance in their space" through floral design. Basically, it's a simple exercise in appreciation and noticing the miraculous beauty and balance in Mother Nature that always seems to be overlooked by the majority of people racing through life at the texting speed of their thumbs.
Dear Amy, Its been four years, and I still keep wondering about your final breaths. Were they deep? Were they shallow? Did you hurt? I'm too scared to ask anyone what exactly happened, even after so much time has passed. I feel like it's more than I'm entitled to know, since I wasn't in your life when you needed it most, but I gathered from the sentiments I saw that it was quite a shock for everyone in your immediate circle. Do you regret it, or was it a relief? Either way, I really do hope that your spirit is sent to us again somehow. We really needs a lot more "Amys" in the world, if you ask me.
- Third Place in Doomsday Diary Challenge
It all started as a way to connect - Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest - and then, Imprint. I can’t even remember the year; it just feels like it was always there. That’s how they want you to remember it anyway. The government wasted so much time. Their endless debates, chronic gaslighting and constant bickering never ceased. In the end, it all added up to inaction and fear, when they should have been figuring this out. But now, the aliens had control. No one pays attention to the government, the experts or the actual news anyway. They were all too busy following trash on social media, and making mindless videos.