June 15, 2010

Prompt:  You’re dying to know, aren’t you?

* * *

"I'm going into town, want to come?"
"Na, I'm happy right here; got my beer, chips, TV, lazy boy and Harry."
"OK see you later."
Three hours later the door opens. "Hey, you'll never guess who I saw at Rusty's."
"Who?"
"You're dying to know aren't you? Maybe you can just guess for a while. By the way, any calls?"
"Yeah, one. It was for you?"
"Well who was it?"
"You're dying to know aren't you?"
- Eileen Callan RBWG member

* * *

You're dying to know, aren't you?  I saw the wet greediness on his face.  I knew he was a sucker for romantic love stories gone bad.  At least that's how we read them.  We'd start out with one book, read half of it, and then come up with our own endings.  I enjoyed our way of reading.  He wasn't always thrilled.  Sometimes he just wanted a normal happy ending.  But there were no happy endings in my life.  So selfishly, I never saw them for others.  But just once I wanted one for you.
--Heather Poultney, RBWG member

* * *

Maria smiled and said, “You’re dying to know, aren’t you?”

She had deliberately said she had to run to the restroom in the middle of her fantastic tale for today.  Then she stopped and talked to her professor about her final British Lit II paper.  She was turning it in late – she gave him another tall tale.  Everyone knew she was a pathological liar, including Maria.  But once she opened her mouth, she could never tell people the whole truth.  But her stories were usually so much fun that people enjoyed listening to them or so completely convincing, that they could not cipher what was her lie and what was the truth.

Today’s story was about her exploits with her nonexistent boyfriend, Wade, who was a 700-year-old vampire.  People knew she was b-sing them but the wanted to know about Wade and what he was like.  Maria had thought about writing all her tales down, but as is often the problem with chronic liars, she could never remember what she lied about 5 minutes after it came out of her mouth.

“Of course!” Joanie exclaimed, “You can’t leave us hanging at the middle of a story and just disappear for an hour!  You have to tell is what happened after you and Wade were stopped by the Charles County Cops!”

Maria smiled and inwardly thought, “Thank God Joanie told me where I left off because I totally forgot!”

Maria opened her mouth and the lies fell down like rain.  She did not know this was the last time she would ever tell a lie.  If she had, she would have made up a better story.
--Robin Peace, Baltimore, MD

* * *

You are there in the mist: the untouchable vision, unquenchable thirst, unsoothable irritant, unscratchable itch that haunts my dreams. I cannot quite capture a clear image, but I think you are beautiful, perhaps a composite of every woman I have ever loved or might yet love.

    I plead, “Who are you?”

    You laugh lightly and your captivating smile – as dominant as the Cheshire Cat’s -- assaults my senses, burns my soul, leaves me sated but unsatisfied. My mind wonders if I have ascended to Heaven or descended to Hell.  I plead with you again. "Please. Who are you?"

    Your smile begins to fade. Your voice teeters just beyond the edge of recognition: “You’re dying to know, aren't you?”

    “Not yet,” I say aloud, and I am awake, bathed in sweat and trembling, short of breath and unsure if the cause is passion or the fear that I might indeed have been flirting with crossing over.
--Jim Van Loozen, RBWG Member