Prompt: Finding solace in an airport bathroom.
I never should have watched that Netflix special on the hidden cruelty of airport security.
“Ma’am, this isn’t jail, you can keep your clothes on.” The balding one with a frown declared.
I had already stripped down to my Winx Club underwear and fuchsia bra – which I had just started to unclip. “Never!” I screamed, throwing the bra onto his shiny bald head like a horseshoe. “I know what you did to that poor man! I will not go behind that closed door with you and be manipulated into unwanted sex acts! If you want to pat me down, let all witness your evil ways.”
Moving my fingers to the hem of my underwear, I started hopping as the too-small cotton panties caught on my nubby knees, when, out of nowhere I was tackled by a large woman named Steve.
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I unloaded my single-people food on the register and watched the cashier start to ring up my purchases. My eyes were drawn to his dirty hands. Maybe he was cleaning something, I’m not sure, but dirt laid under his nails and dark grime smudged in between skewed hair on the outside of his hands. This guy needed a pair of cleaning gloves, Dexter would never let his hands get dirty. Shit, thinking of Dexter reminded me of the titillating scene I left playing on my television and warmth rose in my cheeks.
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Writing Prompt: Unusual weapon.
This one’s a bit dark.
I’ve never seen a crayon used as a weapon before. Crayons meant laughing while coloring, cute animals, large rainbows, happiness, imagination – things, I used to miss. Seeing it used as a weapon tainted everything it used to represent.
My mother was MacGyver-like in her creativity. She didn’t even think twice when he pulled up. Inviting him in with baking powder smeared on her face and an infectious smile as he walked through the door. After the door was shut and locked her elbow connected with his nose and down he went.