Writing Prompt

As he allowed his body to give way to the music he saw him there across the room. It had been years since they’d last seen each other, but now he saw him in a new light. He glowed a million shades of neon greens and blues as the spotlights hit him in all the right places, and his eyes caught his as the music faded into the distance.

“You have spaghetti on your nose” Ryan pointed out to West who was golfing down the spaghetti like it was his last meal on Earth. The two boys burst into laughter as Ryan’s Mother Mrs. Jenkins came over with a fresh plate of warm garlic bread. “You boys are so cute together, I hope your friendship lasts forever.” The boys smiled warmly at each other as Mrs. Jenkins took her seat at the head of the table. “Why I bet you’ll even be each other’s best men at your weddings.” Ryan looked to West with a sad confused smile. “I want West to be at my wedding Mum.” And she smiled back thinking she’d ended the conversation with her first bite of spaghetti.

Mrs. Jenkins took Ryan’s nervous arm in hers as she led him down the aisle towards an anxious West, standing handsomely in his burgundy velvet suit.

West stood still waiting for Ryan to cross the room, neither said a single word as Ryan placed his lips against West’s. “Hi” he said afterwards looking him deep in the eyes. West laughed as he took his old friend by the hand and led him out the club.

Ryan took West’s hand at the altar and looked him deep in the eyes as Mrs. Jenkins held a hand to her heart. “I’m glad you got to come to my wedding” Ryan whispered in his groom’s ear before planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Our wedding” a young West blurted out loud at the dinner table. Mrs. Jenkins dropped her fork with a clang “don’t be silly West two boys can’t get married.” Ryan looked over at West’s spaghetti stained face and burst in to tears. “Oh now look what you’ve done you’ve upset him, I’m calling your father and you’re going home young man.” Mrs. Jenkins erupted out of her chair and stormed over to the phone as the two boys gripped onto each other’s hand weathering the storm together with rain pouring from their eyes.

Before Mrs. Jenkins returned to her seat she took both Ryan and West’s hands in hers and looked them both in their tear filled eyes. “My boys, thank you for teaching me what love looks like, and thank you for giving me another chance. The way I treated you both when you were younger is inexcusable. I want you to know that you are both my beautiful sons. And West your father will be looking down at his smart handsome boy with pride in his eyes.”

The music at the club blared back into life as the men stood outside on the cold summer night. Ryan never tore his eyes away from West as they waited for their cab back to the hotel room. “You have something on your face” Ryan pointed out with a laugh “it better not be spaghetti” West joked back. “No” Ryan took West’s face in his hands and planted another eternal kiss “it’s me” West snorted with laughter as the cab approached. “That was so cheesy but you know what? I don’t care, Ryan Jenkins you are the cheese to my spaghetti.”

I tried not to scream when Mom told us that Dad was getting off the plane. It had been two years… and he was coming back to us alive.

When I heard my little brother Michael squeal and yell “Daddy,” I widened my eyes and whipped around. There he was, his hair and beard gone but his twinkling green eyes still the same. He had a huge lopsided grin on his face.

“Dad!!!” I ran to him, sobbing happily into his shoulder. “You’re okay, you’re okay…”

“Hey, kiddos,” he whispered, and by the tone of his voice I could tell that he was crying, too.

Mom came running over once us kids had finished reuniting, and they kissed too many times for my liking and mumbled some inaudible words into each other’s ears.

“Don’t leave again, please Daddy,” I said, using ‘Daddy’ so that he knew I meant it. I really, really did.

“I’ll try not to, baby. I promise.”

A month had barely passed before he broke his promise. And this time, he never came back.

“I missed you,” I sob as she lays on the blue carpet, her life pouring out to stain it purple. “I’m so sorry I was never there for you.”

“You were always there when…” She choked. “When I needed you,” her voice whispered. She spoke but her eyes were lifeless. “I love you.”

I fight back tears as I can’t say it back. Instead, I’m angry. “Always so selfish… YOU were never there for ME. Goodbye.”

Then her blood-soaked hands turned cold.

“UGGGGHHHHHH.” I stomped down the stairs in my ridiculous dress. “I don’t understand why we have to GO.”

My mom brushes something off my face. “We haven’t seen this part of our family in years. And your sister hasn’t visited us in so long.”

“I don’t care about her. I barely remember her. It’s not like she impacted my life very much.”

“Which is exactly why we’re going to this reunion.”

I shrug and storm off to put on my makeup.

“Kayla!” a somewhat familiar voice yells across the room. I get slammed by someone wrapping their arms around me. “Kayla, it’s me, Samantha!”

I blink in shock. She looks… just like me. A little older, a little rounder, but essentially the same person.

“Wow, you’ve grown so much since I went to school,” she says, examining my hair and face.

“I would say the same for you, but I don’t remember what you looked like,” I snap. Mom flicks the back of my head.

Samantha shakes her head. “Mom, it’s fine. It’s true, I haven’t visited in a really long time.”

“There’s a murderer in the room.”

I turn around. Behind me is a tall boy, probably a little older than me, smiling down. My silence makes it awkward. “I just meant, you seem down, is all.”

“Oh, ha, ” I say, hot in my tight dress and really wanting to leave this conversation forever. I turn on my heels and start down the hall, back to the main event.

His hand touches my shoulder. “You’re Kayla Westlyn, right?” I nod slightly in confirmation. “Nice to meet you. I’m going to kill you now.”

I’m shoved out of the way aggressively, and my ears are blasted with the sound of two gunshots.

When Propane walked into the house of his newly adoptive family, the first thing noticed was the smell. The faint but distinct scent alerted him that there was another greyhound somewhere in the house. His tail wagged with delight as he searched each room, hopeful to discover a new friend. Resting on the mantle above the fireplace sat the urns of Manny and Spuds, who stood in silent observance of their brother. After touring his new home, Propane curled into a ball, not far from the cremated remains. Although he was disappointed that no other animals were found, he basked in the warmth of the sun reflecting through a nearby window and thought about the camaraderie enjoyed whenever he crossed paths with others like himself.

After retiring from a long racing career, Propane relocated eleven hundred miles north to a foster family where he hoped to live out the rest of his days. He met a few greyhounds here and there but none stuck around for very long. As the dominant male, Propane prodded the new arrivals with the hope they would join him in a group therapy session.

“Who better to understand our plight than another greyhound,” he advised but none took advantage of the olive branch extended.

For a greyhound, the transition into retirement is often difficult. It’s filled with restless sleep plagued by nightmares about their working life. With legs that twitch, as if running in their sleep, and the occasional distressed yelp, many sleep with their eyes open. It allows them to keep a watchful view on the world that surrounds them. The haunted memories fade over time, especially once they are adopted or connect with a lifelong friend.

Six weeks prior to his adoption being finalized, Propane spent a week lounging around a dog sitter’s home. It was the best Christmas vacation he’d spent to date, in part, because the only breed the sitter watched was greyhounds. He became fast friends with Dakota Smoke, an all black greyhound who was one year younger. The two talked about life on the track; the highs and lows and everything in between. When the week was over and each returned to their respective foster homes, they hoped to keep in touch with one another, despite how unlikely the possibility seemed.

After being adopted, Propane settled into the routine of his forever home. Everyday was a new adventure. His new daddy worked from home which allowed the pair to spend a lot of time together. They walked through the woods, visited the dog park, and went on frequent rides around town.

“It’s not the same as bonding with a greyhound,” Propane thought, “but it’s a lot better than life on the track.”

A month later, while resting in the family room, Propane heard a noise from another part of the house. It sounded like the soft steps of another dog. His nose twitched as it picked up a familiar scent. He walked over to the dog gate, which restricted access to the rest of the house, and pressed his snout against the vertical wooden slats. A few minutes later, daddy appeared. Standing next to him was another greyhound.

“Propane, this is Charcoal,” explained daddy. “He’s your new brother.”

“Dakota? Is that you?” Propane asked.

“Yep!” Charcoal replied. “When daddy told me he had another grey named Propane and was gonna change my name because if it, I hoped he was talking about you.”

A few minutes later, the gate opened. They sniffed one another and licked each others ears before Propane provided his new baby brother with a guided tour of the home.

In the decade that passed since their reunion, the brothers became best friends. The only argument between them was when Charcoal absentmindedly stepped on his brother while he was sleeping. Propane retained his dominant role in the pack with his baby brother always a few steps behind. Although most greyhounds prefer to have their own space, the pair often sleeps in the same bed or lay within paw’s reach of one another. It’s rare for either to sleep with his eyes open.

.

“Whatcha doing?” Tony asked “Just killing my darlings, sweetie peach,” Mom answered. Still typing on her keyboard, she turned and smiled over at him. Tony was used to her magic and weirdness. “Can I have a juice box?” “Have a glass of milk and grab me a beer.” Mom returned to the soft glow of her screen. Tony made a couple of peanut butter sandwiches. Carefully he cut them into perfect crustless triangles, arranged the sandwiches on two plates, grabbed a six pack of beer and tiny house carton of milk. Tony juggled everything into the living room where his mom was writing her novel at the cluttered dining room table. Dinner and four beers later, Mom walked to bed with the last two beers. Stretched under the dining room table re-reading In a Glass Darkly, Tony drained his juice box and wondered if Mom would let Bill take him hunting this year.

What do you call a group of vampires? Tony thought. A pride of lions, yes. A murder of crows, bit over the top. But is there a term for groups of animals no one believes in. Aching, his taut muscles yearned to move. But he knew better. During his daytime rambling, Tony had seen the biggest concentration of hand written “Stay Away” hobo signs in the Tin Corridor, the city’s sector of old canneries and warehouses. Relentless he circled the building shells finding only sex workers and junkies. The look in his eyes kept Tony safe from trouble, the look in his eye and mare’s leg strapped to his thigh. Then Tony noticed the bar’s sign Carmella’s painted in black and blood red and smiled. Through night vision googles he watched that bar’s sign now. A Killing of Vampires that works, he thought. He watched the infrequent liquor deliveries. He watched more people go in then came out. He watched the frequent flyers and followed them home. What he saw tonight made Tony’s chest squeeze. The sunshine surprised him. Tony had sat motionless for hours, drenched in memories. Stiff, he climbed down from his perch on the fire escape and walked back to his room to plan.

Sharp and sweet, the air smelled of coming rain. Shifting his already damp balls, Tony pondered what was the old man’s problems if he should have just gone hunting with Caleb and the Chunk instead. He scratched and make a slight moan. “If you’d rather make noise than get meat for the season you could’ve screwed off with your nimrod friends,” Grandpa Bill said. Used to the old man’s magic and weirdness, Tony laughed out loud. “Okay Mighty Hunter, two can play this game. What’s wrong?” Tony could smell despair and embarrassment from Grandpa Bill mingle with the smell of yet to fall raindrops. “I have cabin fever. These Pennsylvania winters are getting too hard for my bones. My friend Paul went West and I’m going to join him in Cali.” Tony listened to the tone in his grandfather’s voice as images of unpaid bills and foreclosure notices drizzled down his mind’s eye. “Sounds great. Swimming pools and movie stars.” Tony could sound lighthearted too. “I could join after graduation.” Their shoulders brushed in the tiny camouflage box. The rain began to fall. The warmth of the forest ground struck by the first raindrops rose around them. “I’m going to miss…” Tony paused as Grandpa raised his rifle at the approaching buck.

Silently, Tony followed the old man up the alley. Bill had taught him the first rule of not being seen is make sure not to be followed. He felt the eyes on his back. He knew they were closing in. He knew this was a trap. The old man was carrying a heavy sack on one shoulder. Tony let himself be led into a blind alley. Dropping his back pack at the alley entrance, Tony drew out his pistol crossbow. He leveled his weapon at what was left of his grandfather’s back. Musky rage filled Tony’s nose. Angry animals always make mistakes. He clicked the detonator without looking back. Flames and screams overwhelmed the scent of their rage. The old man dropped his grisly sack of leftovers and whirled. Tony shot the arrow. Straight through his not beating heart, the old man was pinned to the alley’s brick wall. They both howled.

At Carmilla’s a fast acting fire added to the rosy glow of the coming dawn. Raindrops smoldered on the bits of vampire left from the firebomb. Tony watched Bill until the sun’s ray turned his grandfather’s body to ash. He watched until the ashes floated away on a river of tears. Petrichor the smell of earth after a fresh rain, brushed against Tony’s shoulders and disappeared. On the way back to his room, he texted his mom that he was coming home.

Dana exclaimed with excitement. The old gym was full of people, but the only one she saw was her old boyfriend from high school. He was alone- was he still single? Her mind took her back to the prom in 1985 when she danced the night away with her high school sweetheart. She smiled at the memory. They were so happy; what happened? Fast forward to her days in college. She had forgotten all about that dance. All she cared about was getting a degree and a job. She was focused- was it on the wrong thing. What could be more important than love? Now she was face to face with her past love. He looked back; yes, he remembered her. They held a steady gaze then embraced. “I never married,Dana” he said. “”I couldn’t forget you like you forgot me.” “You haunted my dreams,” Dana replied. “You were my dream.” “Do you want me to make your dream come true?” “Oh,yes.” Dana exhaled. “I’m done chasing a career; I’ve met goals and shot past them. I’m in a good place. I want you with me.” His memory of Dana breaking up with him years ago flashed across his brain. It hurt then and it hurt now. A scowl marred his handsome visage as he recalled Dana’s long rejection speech. “I can’t marry out of high school. That kind of life would just kill me! Don’t you see? I don’t want to be a nobody who is just a housewife. I want a real life and I want to make real money. Let’s just go our separate ways; if our paths cross, I might say hi and share a laugh- but don’t expect anything else. It’s over between us.” He sighed then shook Dana’s hand off his shoulder. “No thank you,Dana. I’m in a good place ,too.”

. But don’t count on it.

In life, they had been closer. Sister-like, but better. As if they fell from the same meteor. Now in death they are closer. Their stars so close that to the living there seemed not to be two, but one, dazzling flare. They were inseparable. Full of life. Full of musings and dreams of another world. It has been many dreams since they meet again. It seems only fitting that should do so in death. This planet had always felt too small for them. For it was the heartbeats of a thousand galaxies that threaded their minds and eyes. That are the galaxies. They are the universe. They are everything that their dreams made them be. They are more than they could ever have been in life.

We met under the oak tree, a dress full of white as a princess, man and woman side by side underneath the moon kissing, her family did not approve us, our first date took place on a beach that was so much fun we went there again, my family was fascinated with her and how she carried herself, She was forced to lie against her will She lied down beneath the covers Her family got in the way and wanted me gone so she can marry a richer man We try to run away I sent a letter that hoped to meet again, Because we could not be together at the time She later found me from the letter I sent Together we married under an oak tree and spent our days together.

I look around me, the luminescent flames, huddled of people crying all around me, their tears hitting the pavement and it’s the events that brought me here that make me regret ever dragging myself out of my bed. I should have stayed home, trusted my gut instinct that engulfed me as soon as I woke up, but alas I didn’t, hence the shit-show in front of me.

The middle of the reunion wasn’t so bad, but that’s about it. The beginning was so bland and akward as I got to know familiar faces, the end was a flaming disaster, but the normalcy I craved so bad was explicit in the middle of it.

I was just getting to talk to my mother, for the first time in years after the fight that tore our family to shambles for years. Just as I felt hope in my horizon, it fell through my fingers like sand when my dad had arrived.

There was a cold look to his eyes, the same ones that haunted my dreams, I was preparing for another showdown, but that’s not where today took it’s wicked turn, that started concocting earlier in the day.

Unbeknownst to all, my family’s relatives were planning on fireworks, they were laying in a tote and at the moment I was talking to my father a kid was playing in the tote.

About 5 minutes later we heard a boom and a kid hysterically crying.

I roll out of my bed and click off my alarm, I don’t think I’ll go to that reunion, I think as I click off my alarm clock and go right back to bed, contemplating the monstrosity of the dream I just had.

I came a across a field of daisy’s… seeing such a beautiful thing grow almost made me cry… it reminded me so much of him, his warm, bright smile, his gentle personality and his adorable pale face. He was my hero, my prince and my savior, he protected me when life had its moments and when life gave up on me. He believed in someone like me, he love me for who I was and for what I was. Life was perfect with him, but when he went away, I felt like I was the goddess Demeter when hades took what was precious to me. I felt like winter, I was cold and and hart broken, he left me to die for and never came back and said I love you, everything I had known to be true was all now just a lie…