When Spades aren’t Spades.

It has been the longest time since I put anything up here and that is entirely as a result of fear and partly laziness. The following piece is loosely based on an incident that I saw happen. So, here goes…

 

The young man who was engaged in the scuffle was winning. Of course he would. He was stronger and heavier. People stood around looking in disgust at the spectacle before them. If said man had been among them, he would probably have passed judgement as well. He had no scruples, however, as he energetically hit the woman holding on to his shirt – delivering a slap here and a jab there. A few individuals tried to stop him but they failed in their attempts. He was enraged. He couldn’t hear the shrill voices of the women standing by calling him a coward and telling him to try someone his own size. He couldn’t hear the men telling him to stop and think about what he was doing. The only common feeling in everyone present was shock.

Few of those standing around would have understood that it didn’t begin on that day. It started the day he looked at the other girls with pretty hair and make-up only to visit her the next day when she was half ready. It started the day he started opening doors for every other girl except her because he felt she could take care of herself. And the day he coldly shut her up when she wanted to tell him about her day. The time he had rebuffed her advances and had told her he was tired. The night he had flung the dishes against the wall and left her in tears. The feeling of wanting to slap her when she tried to ask him why he was so angry.

The woman let go of his shirt and fell to the ground in a heap heaving dry sobs. She covered her face with her arms and a few of the women rushed to her to console her. He made his way through the crowd and entered the house. He didn’t make eye contact with anyone – only staring straight ahead. He couldn’t really understand what had happened but he knew that it had ended.

     *       *      *

    Most of us would agree that his actions were foolish but how many times do we end up doing things we never thought we’d do? Please let me know what you think.

The Education of a Romantic

I was not allowed to read Mills and Boon novels growing up but that didn’t stop me from laying my hands on quite a few and with them transporting myself to a place where a guy stepped in and saved me from… well, everything. A handsome dude with well defined pecs and no problem lifting me would come into my life, sweep me off my feet, save me from all loneliness and be my everything. That was all well and good…until I grew up.

First off, this love business is hard. To make a love match is like having two strangers walking down a street filled with ice cream shops selling every conceivable flavour enter the same shop at the same time and order the same flavour. What are the odds?

Suddenly, handsome didn’t count so much anymore. I know I don’t want a Quasi Modo look-alike but I met so many fine dudes with very ugly insides so I scratched that off my list. Passable would do. Also, he was too busy with the business of balancing life and paying attention to important people to spend that much time at the gym.  I’m carrying a few ‘el-bees’ of my own anyway.

As for being rich, there were only two really viable ways for that to happen. Wait for someone to show up with all the dosh in his pockets in which case it would be a really long wait or pull an Anna Nicole Smith and hook the first rich geezer I laid my eyes on. Only problem was that neither of these options gave me any satisfaction. So I settled for someone who wouldn’t let me (and any possible kids) starve and would give me some nice things.

And the sweeping me off my feet, well turns out that he had a limp before because he’d tried to sweep some other girl off hers in the past and well, let’s just say she stomped him with her stiletto heels.

And as to being my everything. It turns out that he was only human. And I had to accept that he couldn’t be. So I wrote a different list and on that one the first thing was ‘friend’. ..along with the other modifications. J

Related Articles

• You benefit if your romantic partner recovers well from spats, U of M study finds (esciencenews.com)
• Romantics (saidthegramophone.com)

The Naked Face

It all began with chance.

A case of happenstance.

Walking away so easy that day

Yet familiar tuggings making me stay

And as you drew close my self preservation

Said, ‘Wait right there! Don’t come any closer!’

It didn’t scream loud enough for you drew ever nearer

First the wall broke down.

It seemed to melt away so quickly

Like a wall poster in heavy rain.

I don’t think you noticed it was there

But I knew it was gone the first time I told you

A complete truth without fear

With no thought

For its import.

Me beneath my cloak and mask

Wanted to run away.

Curious rabbit wanted to ask

Many questions and wanted to stay.

Wanted to know why you act and talk

The way you do

Wanted to know the true bulk

Unravel the mystery behind you.

The hand that used to hold the cape closed

Now gripped yours like life-purchasing gold.

The concealant comes slipping down

My hand

To the ground

I barely notice

For I’m looking

Right at you

It drops in a neglected pool.

I want to grab it

While holding on to you.

Clumsy effort!

I must choose

The cloak or you?

Now we are arm in arm

‘So what’s the harm?

He still can’t see me.’

I reason it to be.

The face beneath the mask

Buried like a cask

In the ground.

You stop and there’s no sound.

I’m taken aback.

Hoping not to catch flak

You’re looking at the mask

With questioning eyes.

‘Oh this!’, I begin the task

Of telling you the familiar lies.

‘It’s part of me, I promise you.’

Your reply makes one thing clear

It comes off soon

No matter how much I hold it dear.

We continue to talk

As we continue our walk

But we’re stalling

And we stop again.

Your hand reaching up

To lift my visor

I’m stunned

At your audacious move

But I let you.

The part of me that does not follow the rules

Lets you touch it.

And in that split second

That you see the hidden,

Shock comes unbidden.

To look upon the misshapen,

Mismatched and forsaken.

You see my naked face

And my mask slips back into place.

 

Related Articles

• Two Sided Mask – by Soledad (schantress.wordpress.com)
• Masked (amandabrianphotography.wordpress.com)
• Are you hiding behind a mask? [John Amy - Graphic Design] (ecademy.com)