How Can You Mend a Broken Heart?

May 23.  Exactly 11:11am.

Jane should have been making a wish at precisely this moment, squeezing her eyes shut with a crooked smile playing around her mouth like she did when she was contemplating her options. Instead she was confined to the bed in this overly bright room with soft love songs pulsing in her ears and her dreams locked away from everyone but the angels guarding her.

Amriel made a notation in a small lined notebook and nodded at Lameschial who was seated in a high-backed chair on the other side of the room who made several chicken-like scratches in his own.

Both men, well that was the form they took here, let their eyes rest on their charge.

Lameschial sighed, leaned forward and placed his impossibly square jaw in the cup of his hand.

“It’s been almost two years, Am.”

The angel of May went to answer when they heard footsteps and the squeak of rubber wheels on linoleum in the hallway. Pressing a small white button on his wristwatch his wings folded into a nearly invisible slit in his suit jacket imitating a letter sliding into an envelope.

Clearing his throat Amriel adjusted his suit jacket just as the nurse hurried into the room tapping at an iPad.

“How’s our patient today?” she asked, never looking up.

“Still sleeping.” He answered as if that fact wasn’t obvious.

The nurse, a girl with light blue eyes and a mess of wild strawberry blonde curls framing a soft round face, was named Jennifer. She lifted Jane’s hand and silently counted a pulse, tapped at the monitors that surrounded the bed, adjusted the sheet and made her way to the door.

“I’m beginning to wonder …” Jennifer stopped before finishing and then she was gone.

Amriel mused about the hospital staff. They thought the angels were Jane’s uncles, lawyers who had been named as her guardians and considering the job they were doing, it was a suitable lie.

Jane’s real family had no idea she was still alive.

Amriel moved to the window, the sun through the slants in the blinds lit the halo above the crown of his head.

He yawned and pulled at the Windsor knot at his throat, loosening the silk.

“Her healing is slow.”

Lameschial shifted in the chair, “I was too late. If  I hadn’t hesitated she might be smiling and making wishes on clocks that read 3:33.”

It was a common lament from his partner but every now and then Amriel indulged him, “It wouldn’t have mattered my friend. He’d confessed everything, spoken her name, satisfied his own soul at the sake of hers. There was nothing we could do after that but make her comfortable.”

“I know.” The other angel said wistfully.  “But you would think that after all this time…”

Amriel turned his gaze back to Jane’s sleeping form, pondering her plight (as he had done for almost two years now) alongside any recourse he had. He knew their world longed to see her smile again but he weighed assuaging that desire at the risk of bringing Jane any more pain.

Of course there was still no guarantee she’d ever be the same again.

Amriel touched Lameschial, who was dozing in the chair, lightly on the shoulder and he stirred.

“My friend,” the angel began consulting his watch. It was nearing lunch time with little time to waste. “Please make a call to the angel yard and request Kabshiel but tell her to hurry.”

The second angel smiled and pulled a small phone from his pocket; the patron of grace and favor was a mindful choice.

Amriel pulled the cord on the blinds, bathing the room in warm, rich sunlight.

The clock read 12:11.

“Let’s wake our Jane and see if she still has any wishes to make.”

 

This week a line from my last offering was the one chosen to inspire you…

“he’d confessed everything” from Man on a Mission. 

Tara and I would love for you to #WriteWithUs.  Click here. 

 

 

The prompts this week from Lyssa and Thomas at  Light and Shade Challenge

were about Angel Yards and a proper quote:

” You pays your money and you takes your choice”

– caption on a Punch cartoon

**Sorry about this being so long my friends, but the story was one I enjoyed telling. (not to mention the research about angels names) **

 

Amriel is the angel of the month of May. 

Lameschial is an angel who is meant to thwart deception. 

Kabshiel is the angel of grace and favor. 

 

Man on a Mission

There’d been fireworks when they’d met; loud spectacular bursts of color accompanied by the thump! (awww! ) thump! (oooh!)  of another heart beating in time with his.

Talking over the din and more than a little drunk on the intoxicating scent of her lotion mixing with the wafting smell of acrid after-smoke, not to mention the Yuengling he was swigging from long neck bottles, he’d confessed everything he was feeling.

She’d smiled with  a light behind her eyes that rivaled the color of summer skies, and in that moment he realized he had nothing of his own, nothing that truly mattered if he couldn’t have her.

With the pop, snap and fizzle of the spectacle above them their foreheads met and he fell.

He’d asked her to marry him every day after that, sometimes serious and others half jokingly but always sincere; kissing her hand or (on more than one occasion) dropping to a knee in the mall, out in the middle of a cow puddle field while out on a walk, on the steps of the small clapboard church in the center of town. She’d blush and laugh, call him crazy and kiss him into a heavenly daze, never really answering him.

It was almost eleven months after that first night of heat, kisses and popping color, on a cool spring evening, when she’d walked into his apartment laden with a pizza box, a cloth bag full of groceries and a request of her own.

He’d taken her to city hall the next day and never looked back.

************

 


using the prompt “… he had nothing of his own.”

Taken from Joe Scott and his piece Packrat Red and his Cart o’ Sad Crap.”

 

lightandshade logo

 

one of the prompts was FIREWORKS this week and it was the one I used.

 

 

Coming Around Again

Shelby let the imitation fabric slide through her fingers. The robe could convince you it was cherry spun silk until you touched it and realized rogue bracelet charms or an unfiled fingernail could snag a thread and unravel the whole illusion.

The irony wasn’t lost on her. This should have been one of the happiest times of her life. Grades were recorded, interviews (gratefully) were over and once she crossed the stage she’d be able tack three letters onto the end of her signature and move on with her life. She should have felt like a bud right before it opened and bloomed.

But she missed him.

She’d never expected to miss him.

A tear slid off her cheek, staining the material, when she felt rather than saw a shadow in the doorway.

“Hey.” He said.

Shelby turned toward him, “Gunnar?”

He smiled and opened his arms, “You didn’t think I’d miss your graduation, did you?”

She stepped into the warmth of his arms, allowing the hug to peel away the layers of regret between them.

The last time she’d seen Gunnar his face was a twisted mess of pain and sadness caused by her indecision. He’d left taking his melancholy out the back door  and leaving her standing right where she was currently rooted.

Gunnar pushed back, kissed her temple  and grabbed the robe, holding it open for her to slip into.

“Ready?” He asked, holding out his hand.

Moving toward the back door, she slipped her palm into his and hoped he’d kept the diamond he’d offered before he left.

 

Have you heard?
Tara and I have taken over the prompt page of Studio30Plus.

WriteWithUs so come over and visit the page.

Since I missed last week’s prompt I used both sentences in my piece this week.

“peel away the layers”

“he took his melancholy out the back door” from Katy

 

the prompts this week at WRITE ON EDGE were

a coral colored blooming flower

and a this quote:

Why should I be unhappy? Every parcel of my being is in full bloom.
― Rumi

Take Flight

Digging deeper hasn’t helped,

praying for a miracle became a waste of (precious) time

and the practice of self flagellation is growing old (and positively painful).

 

I suppose I could wait here on this precarious perch for-

ever

changed and whittle away at my-

self

worth.

But my toes hurt from squeezing too tightly to the branches

and my heart is beating out of time with the natural rhythm of the universe.
Guess, it’s time to blow this popsicle stand.

Pack up and get out of dodge.

This town just isn’t big enough for the two of us anymore…

With one flap of my ruffled feathers

I know…

it’s time to fly.

*******************

 

For Studio30Plus weekly prompt:

Given to us by Joanne Roth 

“precarious perch” 

***************

For Velvet Verbosity’s 100 Word Challenge this week
TOWN 

Velvet Verbosity 100 Word Challenge

 

Don’t Worry, You Won’t Feel a Thing {100 Word Challenge/Studio30Plus}

What can I offer you, sir?

A princess or a whore?

A gal you can forgive and (promptly) forget?

How about a passionate muse you might not forget and most certainly never forgive for the destruction of your heart?

Do you inhale a little too slowly

or do you tend to exhale a little too quickly

when you experience the sudden loss of oxygen at this altitude?

Tell me..

have you ever;

taken one for the team,

taken one on the cheek,

been quite taken with

and then had all you  loved taken away?

Can you

give up,

give in

or simply give yourself over for the greater good?

Because this one

(yesirree,  this girlie right here)

has a love that’s quick and lethal

but (rest assured)

she’s worth dying for.

 ******************************

 

Studio30Plus prompt of the week comes from Tara (she’s amazing) 

“quick and lethal” 

100 Word Writing Prompt

Velvet Verbosity’s 100 Word Challenge

Word of the week is

Inhaled

Afternoon Ire {Studio30Plus/Velvet Verbosity}

I am angry, shaking, rallying against every impulse to call you out,

expose you,

shove your hypocrisy into the light.

I could you know.

Blood pulsing at the side of my head; a frightening thump, thump that, if this were a movie, would predicate an aneurysm.

Sure, it’s a hackneyed plot twist but one we’re all comfortable believing now.

The world would never have to know I died here, under the kiss of the sun, daydreaming of being wrapped in your arms.

Maybe I wasn’t your problem to solve, but I was your heart to break.

Sure as hell, you did.

******************************

Studio 30 Plus prompt given to us by from the amazing KG Waite :

“KISS OF THE SUN”

 

and Velvet Verbosity’s 100 Word Challenge

the word of the week:
Hackneyed

Recognition {Velvet Verbosity/Studio30Plus}

Like a cat, it (should) will pounce

right into your heart,

beneath the underwire, past your past (bullshit),

fumbling with the clasps and taking you in its fervent, greedy hands

until you are gasping

in sweet pleasure.

 

But…

chances are you won’t recognize it,

because of your endless hypocrisy.

Maybe you’re scarred

or scared

of the storm of sensations it stirs inside you.

 

You don’t deserve it.

Perhaps it’s too good to be true.

 

Whatever your reasons

goodness knows you’ll find one (or twenty).

 

But it’s right there,

trembling

emotions splayed

offering itself to you,

begging you to open your eyes

and

see.

 

********************************

Verbal Verbosity 100 Word Challenge

(and National Poetry Month)

word of the week
Recognize

Studio30Plus prompt of the week:
it should pounce 

 

Stand Alone {Studio30Plus/Velvet Verbosity/Write On Edge}

I tried to meet his eyes, with the canned laughter of a sitcom blaring around us, standing in our living room.

Too afraid to attempt this confrontation anywhere else, I’d dismissed our master suite for fear of succumbing to a deluge of his deceptive words of love. And holding court in the kitchen, with its cheery yellow curtains billowing above the wooden block of knives, would just smack of hypocrisy.

I cleared my throat.

He never took his eyes off the screen.

“I told you, she didn’t mean a thing to me.”

“ But, ” I countered,  “He meant something to me.”

***************************

I missed a link up with Write on Edge but I wanted to use the quote:

We are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided.”
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

also linking up LOVE (3rd definition of “passion/want” )
with Studio30Plus

 

 

and Smack 

Velvet Verbosity 100 Word Challenge

for 100 Word Challenge  with
Velvet Verbosity

In my  “Write Your First Novel”  class we were discussing POV and this is based on something I’d written in 3 minutes in that class. 

The Love Story of Kimmy & David Chapter 10 (A Hot Mess) {Studio 30Plus}

blogKimmyDavid

continued from HERE:

 

Knock, Knock, Knock.

Kimmy ignored the rapping and reached for her universal remote.

“Kimmy, I know you’re in there.”

She pointed it at the TV.

More.Volume.

“Kimber, c’mon,I can hear Oprah.” Liza accused.  “OPEN THIS DOOR!”

Kimmy sighed and sat up, feet on the ground but not moving.

“I could just use my key.” Liza threatened with the jingling of metal sneaking through the door.

Kimmy forced her own voice, “It’s bolted.”

Kimmy heard Liza’s bottom hit the hallway floor.

“I said I was sorry. I just want you to be happy.”

Knowing her best friend’s penchant for stubbornness, she unwrapped herself from her fuzzy blanket. She pushed the bolt, turned the lock and the door swung open on Liza but Kimmy refused to make eye contact with her as she made her way back to the couch.

Liza followed, kicking her shoes off and stashing her purse on the dining room table. As she settled on the couch beside her best friend, who was already horizontal, she surveyed the situation.

Kimmy’s chic blonde cut was a rat’s nest of tangles, her face was blotchy and sallow while her flannel PJ bottoms were stained in various places. Kimmy looked like she was in a semi-permanent state of self medication, as evidenced by the wrinkled bag salt & vinegar chips and open bag of Oreo cookies (her drugs of choice) and the three (in various stages of being consumed) bottles of  Diet Coke strewn around her substitute bed.

A veritable hot mess.

Liza glanced down at her best friend’s phone, “MAILBOX FULL” glared back.

“So, we’re preparing for the Apocalypse?” Liza joked.

The bundled mound that was Kimmy simply moaned.

Liza picked up an Oreo and pulled it apart, licking all the white cream before popping both chocolate pieces into her mouth, “It’s been 4 days Kim, don’t you want to talk about it?”

“Nope.”

“How about a little at a time?” Liza offered to the mound, holding out a cookie.

Kimmy  disentangled and pushed herself to a sitting position before grabbing and rolling the black cookie around in her fingers. Liza saw her trying to form the words.

“I love both of them.” She said and fell back against her pillow, exhausted with the effort of the confession.

Liza kept licking.

“And, it’s three months before my wedding. “ Kimmy added; an afterthought.

Liza reached for her friend and was suddenly aware of Kimmy’s left hand. The twinkling diamond was missing.

Liza swallowed the cookie, pushing down her questions with the weight of the crumbs.

“I love Marco, Lize.” Kimmy voice was little, like a squeak.

A nod from Liza.

Shame flamed her cheeks.

“But I never stopped loving David.”

“Yep, got all that from your phone call. Not that I didn’t already know.”

“What if he hurts me again, Lize? What if he changes his mind and pushes me away?

Liza simply shrugged, helpless to answer.

“And Marco; sweet, wonderful Marco, what’s not to love? I mean who wouldn’t love Marco? Me! That’s who. But you know I don’t. Not like David. He’s going to be a great husband and a terrific dad but I don’t love him. Not the way I should.” Kimmy splayed her hands, “What kind of marriage would that be, if I just marry him out of loyalty?”

Liza grabbed another cookie, “Only you know the answer to that sweetie. “

Kimmy sighed deeply and fiddled with her empty ring finger, twisting an invisible band while Liza witnessed two fat tears trail their way down her best friend’s cheek.

Liza snuggled up close to her, “The good news is you don’t have to decide today. Not if you don’t want to.”

Accepting the reprieve Kimmy lowered her head to Liza’s shoulder murmuring, “Tomorrow.”

**************************************

This week’s prompt: “A SEMI-PERMANENT STATE OF SELF-MEDICATION”

brought to us from Katy Wolfe Brandes in JUST LIKE A DREAM

 

if you’ve missed any of the installments  of Kimmy & David you can click HERE.

 

Press Repeat : The Love Story of Kimmy & David Chapter 9 {Write On Edge/Studio30Plus}

 

 

continued from here..

 

 

 

Lost in each other Kimmy and David squinted into the blinding sunlight as they exited the theater.

But as David reached for Kimmy’s hand she froze. Unsure, she let him take it but it was a stiff offering.

David held tight, “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” she answered, allowing her fingers to slowly relax inside his. “It’s just feels weird to be holding your hand.”

“Weird?” David frowned, pretending to be hurt.

“Yeah. Weird.” You never held my hand when we, um, when we were…” Kimmy’s face flamed as she tried to explain what they had been to each other.

“I know.” David sighed, bringing her hand to his lips and placing a gentle kiss between her knuckles. “But that was a long time ago.”

There was a pause as their foreheads touched.

“David…?” Kimmy whispered.

“Hmm? “He answered. His mouth was dangerously close.

“…What made you call? The other night, you sounded drunk, I mean, I think you were drunk. So if you didn’t really mean any of it … “she heard her voice sputter.  

 David shifted, raking the hand that wasn’t holding hers through his hair and then gently trailing it down the side of her face. “I meant every word. I know I was drunk, but the things I said? I couldn’t be more serious.”

Kimmy’s breath caught in her throat as tears spilled down her cheeks. Her shoulders heaved, “You made me feel unlovable.”

“Unlovable?” David’s eyes clouded as if he’s heard her wrong. “You’re the least unlovable person I know.”

“But…”

“I never said it.” David admitted,” I don’t think I knew. Or maybe I did, but I thought you and I were too different to last. I’m not sure I even wanted to feel that way about you or anyone else but then you left, and I was… well, I was…” he searched for a word, “… surprised.”

“Surprised?”

“Yeah. I was surprised when you left. Then I found your letter.” He paused, drawing a deep breath. “It took a long time to realize how much I’d hurt you. ”
“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be. It was your way of telling me stuff I didn’t want to hear. You know I’ve carried that letter around for the  past two years?”

Reaching into his back pocket, he slowly unfolded the two sheets of lined paper that she had poured her heart out onto. Blue ink had seeped into the creases and they spoke of it being handled over and over again, folded and refolded, as if it held the answers to a mystery.

“See?” David said, offering it to her but even as her hand came up to grasp it, she didn’t need to; she remembered every bitter word she’d written.

You don’t love me.”

Anger and frustration had poured out of her.

I mean nothing to you and it’s tearing me apart!

Desperation had threatened to swallow her alive.

I only want to be with you, please stop pushing me away.”

She shuttered as she remembered how the words had simply tumbled out of her but she hardly recognized the girl who had written the last line, “I HATE you! I wish I’d never met you!”

She swallowed the memory of the pen channeling her emotion, almost ripping the paper, as she scrawled her name to the bottom of the page.

Kimmy’s handled the flimsy paper, careful not to tear it along its worn seams. Her voice came out so soft David had to lean in to hear her, “I can’t believe you kept it.

David tipped her chin with his finger, “Sometimes I wish we could go back, so you never had to write it.”

“Me too.” she sighed, forcing a weak, watery smile. “But that was then and this is…”

“…Now.” He finished and kissed her, both of them completely unaware Marco was watching from across the parking lot.

********************************

It’s been a while, but it feels good to be writing again.

I saw the prompts from WRITE AT THE MERGE and decided to “kill my babies” with this piece.

I ripped the original apart and came up with something I like a lot better.

“The past is a foreign country: they do things differently there.”
~ L. P. Hartley: The Go-Between (1953)

Image courtesy of Unsplash.

Image courtesy of Unsplash.

also my good friend Marie is back and playing with prompts with
STUDIO 30 Plus

the prompt of “TIME” seems to fit so well here.

 

 **********************************

If you’re visiting and haven’t ever written for WRITE ON EDGE or STUDIO 30PLUS before I encourage you to join

both communities.

We’d love to read your words and hear your stories.

pishner_janelle@mailxu.com
%d bloggers like this: