@Morganna: I like how this seems to split into two halves; the first three lines followed by the resolution of the last two. I am a little puzzled as to why the veggies were overcooked to the point of needing a dressing but that's not the point of the poem!
@Marc: Noting the trend for decreasing words in the prompts I'm looking forward to when you decide that the prompt should be "Go!" and all we get for the day is that one word :)
The ranch She was sat on the edge of the bed, the sheet tangled around her legs, her shoulders shaking and her hair falling across her face. She had her back to him and he allowed himself a momentary smile as he looked at her shoulder-blades and the way the muscles swept down to her sides. He sat up, reaching for her, and his hand rested lightly on her hip. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice shaky and breaking. She held still for a moment and then the shaking began again, coupled with sobs. "I'm sorry I'm so fat." "What?" The word had barely escaped his mouth before she stood, pulling the sheet up with her and tying it around her waist. "I saw the terms of the will," she said. He couldn't see her face through the soft golden curls of her hair until she lifted a hand to brush it back. Then he saw her eyes, red-rimmed from salt-water, and the blotchiness of her face and wondered how long she'd been silently crying for. "You can't inherit the ranch unless you've got a thinner girlfriend." "You're not fat," he said. The words were true, both objectively and subjectively. He was pretty sure she was the most athletic woman he'd ever dated and he was coming to really appreciate that. "What makes you thin-" "It gives specifications," she said, cutting him off. She turned away, her voice muffling so he had to strain to hear her. "Waist-size, body-fat percentage, BMI. All of it." "You're not fat," he repeated, wondering if she was listening to him. "And that's beside the point. The ranch isn't important." "It's your only connection to your family," she said. "You told me, remember? After we'd been to see that superhero film, and we went to the diner." She sniffed, and her smiled at the recollection of the shiny pleather booths and the waitresses who were more interested in the television than serving them. "I know how important it is to you. And I'm... I'm too fat and I ruin things."
3 comments:
We were all crying out for the ranch
The veggies were dry,
We thought we were doomed
When out of the kitchen came the
Bottle of creamy goodness.
@Morganna: I like how this seems to split into two halves; the first three lines followed by the resolution of the last two. I am a little puzzled as to why the veggies were overcooked to the point of needing a dressing but that's not the point of the poem!
@Marc: Noting the trend for decreasing words in the prompts I'm looking forward to when you decide that the prompt should be "Go!" and all we get for the day is that one word :)
The ranch
She was sat on the edge of the bed, the sheet tangled around her legs, her shoulders shaking and her hair falling across her face. She had her back to him and he allowed himself a momentary smile as he looked at her shoulder-blades and the way the muscles swept down to her sides. He sat up, reaching for her, and his hand rested lightly on her hip.
"I'm sorry," she said, her voice shaky and breaking. She held still for a moment and then the shaking began again, coupled with sobs. "I'm sorry I'm so fat."
"What?" The word had barely escaped his mouth before she stood, pulling the sheet up with her and tying it around her waist.
"I saw the terms of the will," she said. He couldn't see her face through the soft golden curls of her hair until she lifted a hand to brush it back. Then he saw her eyes, red-rimmed from salt-water, and the blotchiness of her face and wondered how long she'd been silently crying for. "You can't inherit the ranch unless you've got a thinner girlfriend."
"You're not fat," he said. The words were true, both objectively and subjectively. He was pretty sure she was the most athletic woman he'd ever dated and he was coming to really appreciate that. "What makes you thin-"
"It gives specifications," she said, cutting him off. She turned away, her voice muffling so he had to strain to hear her. "Waist-size, body-fat percentage, BMI. All of it."
"You're not fat," he repeated, wondering if she was listening to him. "And that's beside the point. The ranch isn't important."
"It's your only connection to your family," she said. "You told me, remember? After we'd been to see that superhero film, and we went to the diner." She sniffed, and her smiled at the recollection of the shiny pleather booths and the waitresses who were more interested in the television than serving them. "I know how important it is to you. And I'm... I'm too fat and I ruin things."
Morganna - ah, salad dressing to the rescue of a bland salad. Been there, done that. Nicely captured :)
Greg - don't tempt me :P
That is a miserably god awful shit show of a will. I'd ditch the ranch as well if I were him. Who needs family like that?
Also: well done on provoking such a strong reaction from me :)
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