Yeah, Write #430

Yeah, Write #430 

-you’ll Laugh

You Know.

by Shannon Barber

You know.

-you’ll laugh.

You want to call them faceless, nameless, formless even- it would be easier wouldn’t it? Everything would be better if you didn’t feel their name songs in your bones when you lay down to sleep, if you didn’t see their faces smile at you from darkened corners, if your skin didn’t remember the heat of their touch. Easy, you crave any ease and moments of illusory peace.

You know.

-you’ll laugh.

You watch everyone else. Their petty struggles and their ignorance of the name songs and weight of the dead that hangs on them make you smile when everything else is- as is. You hold your truth close, truth is your secret. Watch the rest of the fools dance and squirm. You tell yourself while your bones vibrate with name songs and your skin buzzes with ghosts, at least you know. Tonight you’ll laugh.

You know.

-you’ll laugh.

You know. You will take your complexities and one foot on the other side life because-

You know-

-you’ll laugh.

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Yeah Write #400- Pussy Kills

Yeah Write #400- 
Pussy Kills
by
Shannon Barber

I inhaled deep, blinked slow and spoke softly. “Pussy Kills.” The man standing in front of me smiled, frowned and found a place between the two. He was confused, I was irritated. He thought he was suave, ready to have his first Black girl as he’d already informed me. I wanted to read my book and finish my Jack and Coke in blessed solitude. 

“What?” I smiled and gave him the sweetest look I had on deck. “I said, pussy kills. You don’t want it. Goodnight.” I resumed reading and the hovering bartender pursed his lips, the laughter held in by the grace of the Gods. The bro, then red faced and confused wandered away, muttering about crazy bitches in bars.  

The bartender let the giggles out and slid another Jack and Coke next to my hand and waved off my money. After I thanked him, we had a nice conversation about Suicide Blonde by Darcy Steinke because he’d never seen the edition I had. I told him about how much I wanted to eat Lydia Lunch so I could be with her forever. We became the sort of friends that drank beers out of paper bags together and crawled around used book stores, and over wine and Tom Waits became occasional lovers. 

He was my first of a few gay lovers, he taught me about romance and how to put lipstick on a man with a beard. I taught him about the joys of having multiple imprints of the same book to see the typography changes and how to make a decent cup of coffee. Just before we stopped sleeping together, someone caught us kissing in the bar. When they asked why, he looked at them and said, “pussy kills.”

Yeah, Write #390- Death in the Jungle

Death in the Jungle

The corner was busy, always busy.  The same grimy business of survival. Cars passed, girls and not girls on the stroll, bindles and cash got passed. Things are the same forever but, folks’ bodies remember it all. It was business as usual in the jungle.  In the bright of daylight when the shadows hide nothing, shots echo.  

But when they all ducked, nothing was there.

Yeah Write #373- On Post Coital Sagacity.

 

On Post Coital Sagacity.

by

Shannon Barber

My roommate watched me kiss her goodbye. I grinned at him.

“What’s wrong sugar pie?”

I was fuck drunk and slightly slurry.

“How the fuck?”

He gestured at me, then the door, then my crotch. I let him smell her on my breath.

“Pussy sapience. Nighty-night, booboo.”

“Night, asshole.”

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Yeah Write #369 Weekend Showcase- Cutter

Cutter

Okay friends. Buckle up we’re gonna go for an adventure in The World. 

Remember hypertext? We’re doing some hypertext. Click at will. Here is how it works. Every link relates to The World. Another story, or a post about how this world building works. You can navigate to more stories from the bottom of each post. Enjoy. Share with friendos.

This is very close to the idea I had originally about what I wanted to do with The World. It could still happen. Who knows.

~

I am the Cutter.

My phone chirps the perkiest alarm at 11:15 PM on the nose. My girlfriend doesn’t stir except for the hand she had resting on my ass squeezes and flaps away, she’s used to it by now. I follow the eccentricities of lunar librations and tonight is the night. Daddy called it sorcery, Mama called it necessary and The Worldcalls it pleasure.

The Boss Bitch Squad shows up bristling with their nails done and hair tucked up. They gleam and exude sex and death, they greet me with hugs and cries of “hey girl hey”, they call me Cutter.

At the appointed time they stand respectfully behind me and I draw my own blade. She is black as sin and sharp as the edge of death. The World quivers against my skin, crawling along my spine and pulsing with need.

We take no time for ceremony or elaborate sorcery. When The World leans on me full and fat, my blade finds her home. The World splits like ready flesh, my blade slides through and when the word and The World ooze together around me and the Boss Bitch Squad runs into battle and the beasts of the dark run to meet them, I am alone and I am one with all worlds.

I am the Cutter.

YeahWrite #356- Microprose challenge. Baby Red.

 

Baby Red

 

“The fuck is you?”

The wolf licked his lips.

“Oh, you a tenderoni. Come on and give Grandma a kiss .”

Baby Red carried a glock and Nana taught her how to use it.

“What you gonna-?”

Baby Red smiled.

“Not today bitch.”

And the wolf was no more.

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