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openthighs_sarah
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Feb 8, 2003
- Posts
- 713
G'night! I don't know you, but g'night anyway...
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well thank you and nice to meet you.
pj
pj
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Re: My Prince
I wouldn't want to keep you in suspense beautiful. I just submitted this a minute ago.
your prince
It's hard to believe that a song with lyrics like "daylight come shining on my home," could bring tears to my eyes, but as I lay in bed listening to the radio that Christmas morning, home kept creeping into my mind.
I'm not even sure that I miss home, or even the people there. It's just I'd like to miss where I'm at now. I mean sure, I'm living in a nice loft, with a great view of the city, but it's empty inside this time of year.
For me, red and white brings sadness, not presents.
It all started about ten years ago, when I first moved to the city with my dreams and aspirations of a Pulitzer. But I wanted more than just a Pulitzer. I wanted a successful career, and a family. I wanted it all. When it didn't happen the first year, I figured I had the ball rolling in the right direction, and I just needed to wait. Youth and idealism are like that sometimes. To my
great disappointment, my exciting career started as a mail clerk, and my love life had all the appeal of a Smurf's rerun.
Well, maybe I wanted everything too much; by the end of my second year, I only moved inches from where I began. That started a bad time for me. I bought a nice little
GPZ 305 to get around on. It had a belt drive, and handled
much better than those dangerous road racing bikes people show off.
The bike became point A to point B for me, and I felt safe on it, even though I hadn't owned a motorcycle before. But when the rains came, the feeling of safety seemed to go away. That summer I learned firsthand how hard it is to see a motorcycle while making a left turn in the rain.
Losing three months of my life in a coma didn't seem to affect me as much as waking up with one leg. The doctors told me the car mangled my left leg so badly, that it couldn't be reattached. I spent the rest of my year learning to adjust to the prosthesis and the crutches, as my drill sergeant physical therapist marched me up and down the parallel bars, perfecting my hobble.
In spite of the accident, things started to pick up my third year in the city. I moved up from the mailroom to a comfortable job as a writer at the Times. My new boss said I worked hard, and I showed a lot of promise as a writer.
Life became a bit less strenuous at this time. I almost forgot about the pain of losing my leg during this time of success.
The only things that bothered me were the unsaid comments in people's eyes. People would say things at me The Times' receptionist, Mrs. Turner, always spoke louder to me than other people, I guess she though my hearing had gotten spread all over Fifth Street with my leg. It never mattered how much I proved myself, some people could only see that I had one leg.
Around my fourth year, I met Kim. Kim and I bumped into each other at Jerry's Deli on Third Avenue. She apologized for running into me, and when I made the crack about "Weebil's wobble but they don't fall down," she lit up the room with the most intense smile I had ever seen. When Kim smiled, every eye in the restaurant turned to look at her.
I knew from that moment on, that I would always love her, even if she could never feel the same way about me. Kim was too good for me, but Kim's kindness is what made her so special to me. She never tried to stop me from loving her. Even if I couldn't have Kim the way I wanted, she always let me keep my dreams of her.
Kim called Christmas Eve my fourth year in the city to say she would be over in two hours for dinner, and that she had something special for me. After three hours, I called to Kim's apartment. Her roommate cried over the phone. Kim's smile would never brighten my world again. A robber got to her before she got to my apartment. My special present was a picture postcard that read: "Thanks for always loving me." The police found it in her hand after the robber shot her, and she bled to death.
Meeting Kim is the only part of that year I'd like to remember. That, and her beautiful smile. Unfortunately, though, God took Kim and left Christmas.
Since that fateful Christmas Eve, cigarettes and alcohol are my best friends. They only cause misery, so mankind will always keep plenty of cigarettes and alcohol around. Mankind will probably make even more guns, so more criminals can kill more beautiful people over twenty dollars and some change in a pocketbook.
Why can't someone make a way to relive memories instead of packaging poisons and making bullets?
The only Christmas present I would want would be the memory of Kim kissing me on the cheek, smiling, and saying goodbye, that day we met at Jerry's Deli.
MathGirl said:
I wouldn't want to keep you in suspense beautiful. I just submitted this a minute ago.
your prince
It's hard to believe that a song with lyrics like "daylight come shining on my home," could bring tears to my eyes, but as I lay in bed listening to the radio that Christmas morning, home kept creeping into my mind.
I'm not even sure that I miss home, or even the people there. It's just I'd like to miss where I'm at now. I mean sure, I'm living in a nice loft, with a great view of the city, but it's empty inside this time of year.
For me, red and white brings sadness, not presents.
It all started about ten years ago, when I first moved to the city with my dreams and aspirations of a Pulitzer. But I wanted more than just a Pulitzer. I wanted a successful career, and a family. I wanted it all. When it didn't happen the first year, I figured I had the ball rolling in the right direction, and I just needed to wait. Youth and idealism are like that sometimes. To my
great disappointment, my exciting career started as a mail clerk, and my love life had all the appeal of a Smurf's rerun.
Well, maybe I wanted everything too much; by the end of my second year, I only moved inches from where I began. That started a bad time for me. I bought a nice little
GPZ 305 to get around on. It had a belt drive, and handled
much better than those dangerous road racing bikes people show off.
The bike became point A to point B for me, and I felt safe on it, even though I hadn't owned a motorcycle before. But when the rains came, the feeling of safety seemed to go away. That summer I learned firsthand how hard it is to see a motorcycle while making a left turn in the rain.
Losing three months of my life in a coma didn't seem to affect me as much as waking up with one leg. The doctors told me the car mangled my left leg so badly, that it couldn't be reattached. I spent the rest of my year learning to adjust to the prosthesis and the crutches, as my drill sergeant physical therapist marched me up and down the parallel bars, perfecting my hobble.
In spite of the accident, things started to pick up my third year in the city. I moved up from the mailroom to a comfortable job as a writer at the Times. My new boss said I worked hard, and I showed a lot of promise as a writer.
Life became a bit less strenuous at this time. I almost forgot about the pain of losing my leg during this time of success.
The only things that bothered me were the unsaid comments in people's eyes. People would say things at me The Times' receptionist, Mrs. Turner, always spoke louder to me than other people, I guess she though my hearing had gotten spread all over Fifth Street with my leg. It never mattered how much I proved myself, some people could only see that I had one leg.
Around my fourth year, I met Kim. Kim and I bumped into each other at Jerry's Deli on Third Avenue. She apologized for running into me, and when I made the crack about "Weebil's wobble but they don't fall down," she lit up the room with the most intense smile I had ever seen. When Kim smiled, every eye in the restaurant turned to look at her.
I knew from that moment on, that I would always love her, even if she could never feel the same way about me. Kim was too good for me, but Kim's kindness is what made her so special to me. She never tried to stop me from loving her. Even if I couldn't have Kim the way I wanted, she always let me keep my dreams of her.
Kim called Christmas Eve my fourth year in the city to say she would be over in two hours for dinner, and that she had something special for me. After three hours, I called to Kim's apartment. Her roommate cried over the phone. Kim's smile would never brighten my world again. A robber got to her before she got to my apartment. My special present was a picture postcard that read: "Thanks for always loving me." The police found it in her hand after the robber shot her, and she bled to death.
Meeting Kim is the only part of that year I'd like to remember. That, and her beautiful smile. Unfortunately, though, God took Kim and left Christmas.
Since that fateful Christmas Eve, cigarettes and alcohol are my best friends. They only cause misery, so mankind will always keep plenty of cigarettes and alcohol around. Mankind will probably make even more guns, so more criminals can kill more beautiful people over twenty dollars and some change in a pocketbook.
Why can't someone make a way to relive memories instead of packaging poisons and making bullets?
The only Christmas present I would want would be the memory of Kim kissing me on the cheek, smiling, and saying goodbye, that day we met at Jerry's Deli.
MathGirl
Cogito
- Joined
- Aug 4, 2002
- Posts
- 5,825
Re: Re: My Prince
Gee, thanks. Otherwise we all would have had to go where everyone else posts their writings. You truly are special.
MG
Ps. Since you posted it in a public forum, I suppose it's okay to make comments. I'm sure it's because the story goes over my head, but it didn't seem to have any point or make any sense. Like I said, though, it's probably over my head. I'm absolutely positive that your story would be wonderful if I was a lot smarter and able to understand it.
princejonny said:
Gee, thanks. Otherwise we all would have had to go where everyone else posts their writings. You truly are special.
MG
Ps. Since you posted it in a public forum, I suppose it's okay to make comments. I'm sure it's because the story goes over my head, but it didn't seem to have any point or make any sense. Like I said, though, it's probably over my head. I'm absolutely positive that your story would be wonderful if I was a lot smarter and able to understand it.
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Re: Re: Re: My Prince
I KNOW
MathGirl said:
I KNOW
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*giggles*
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oh it's true
It's true
It's true
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reohoko said:ACK!!!!
What I am gone a whole day and someone else steals my carefully coined *giggles*?
*sigh
PJ, be careful, that would be war.
you know my motto: make love, not war.
*giggle*
hmmmm
I am reminded of the time a friend of mine was hollering and screaming about her husband.
Her issue was he had this annoying habit of doing things just to upset her. She had, only moments before calling me, been informed (by him) that he did it quite on purpose.
She screamed and hollered that he could be so inconsiderate.
I asked her if she had tried getting even. You know do something annoying just to upset him. After all, that is what I would do.
"You, know I would do that.....but.... he is one of those guys that you could stick a box full of firecrackers in their pants and light it. He would just sit there watching the tv and wondering where his beer was while his pants and nuts burned off."
Ya know???
That really did make me concerned for her mental health... but not being a psychiatrist (which is VERY good since I can't even spell it), I will not pass judgement.
I am reminded of the time a friend of mine was hollering and screaming about her husband.
Her issue was he had this annoying habit of doing things just to upset her. She had, only moments before calling me, been informed (by him) that he did it quite on purpose.
She screamed and hollered that he could be so inconsiderate.
I asked her if she had tried getting even. You know do something annoying just to upset him. After all, that is what I would do.
"You, know I would do that.....but.... he is one of those guys that you could stick a box full of firecrackers in their pants and light it. He would just sit there watching the tv and wondering where his beer was while his pants and nuts burned off."
Ya know???
That really did make me concerned for her mental health... but not being a psychiatrist (which is VERY good since I can't even spell it), I will not pass judgement.
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Re: Princes story
shhhh dr. m will call the grammar police on all of us if this thread gets too many replies
DurtGurl said:
shhhh dr. m will call the grammar police on all of us if this thread gets too many replies
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Re: Huh?
why because of the dumb look and sadistic smile on my face? That just means I'm enjoying it, so lay back and njoy the best 30 seconds of attention you'll ever get
MathGirl said:
why because of the dumb look and sadistic smile on my face? That just means I'm enjoying it, so lay back and njoy the best 30 seconds of attention you'll ever get
