The glorious sunrise shone down upon my face. I daydreamed of vacations on the beaches of North Carolina, a different one each summer, and after 17 years, plenty to visit. They were all perfect, golden hot sand, like his golden hot body. Blonde hair so thick and luscious, super sexy when wet and curling around his ears. Oh, God. I love him so much even though he’s no longer perfect. It’s so bizarre that he looks exactly the same, but needs me to move him, feed him, care for every little personal need. One riptide and my love is mute and still. Mother Nature is a bitch. She took his essence and left me his body. Which is why we were walking in the stupid, fucking woods. Walk. Pfft! He’s so noisy in his all-terrain wheelchair. I stare at the remote for the wheelchair next to my unnaturally bended knee. It looks fine. I could probably reach it. I could probably move him around. But what would be the point? I mean, who the fuck digs a 20-foot hole in the middle of the forest? Three sunrises and no one has come to see what’s been trapped. I’ve vowed to stay positive until the end. The glorious sunrise shone down upon my face.
Can I edit that before you post it?
Absolutely! 😉
Thank you, Terence, for that delightfully creepy story!
She sat alone at a corner table, waiting for a man with a white rose in his lapel. It was the first time she had agreed to meet with someone she met on a dating site and she was nervous as a teenager anticipating her first date. He arrived exactly on time and they enjoyed a fine meal, with wine and flattery flowing freely.
He left a generous tip when they left together. As the waitress cleared the table, she saw them getting into his car. ‘A perfect gentleman,’ she thought as he opened the door and helped her into the passenger’s seat.
She never came back to that quaint little restaurant, though she had been a regular customer. Her bloated, rotting body was found in the woods a month later by some hunters.
Cynthia fidgeted with her wine glass, nervous and excited, anticipating her date. She sat alone at a corner table, waiting for a man with a white rose in his lapel.