WEEK 17: Tom

Prompted by:Β CB Archer

Iraq.

It took more than just my legs. So much more. It stole my humanity. A piece of my soul.

F*ck Iraq.

It’s been a decade.

Over a decade.

Ten years. Seven months. Thirteen days.

Do you wanna know how many hours? Because I can tell you that too. Hell, I can even tell you the minutes. Right down to the exact second.

I can tell you every single detail.

How she reached for me. How I pushed her away. How her eyes filled with tears. How I clenched my jaw and muttered, “We’re done.” How her voice trembled as she whispered, “You don’t mean that.”

I remember everything in that moment.

TheΒ moment.

When I made her cry and left without ever looking back…

It’s been over a decade since I’ve seen her.

But nothing’s changed.

She’s still as perfect as ever. So goddamn perfect it takes my breath away. And I’m still as f*cked up as ever. So goddamn f*cked up it makes me sick to my stomach.

I turn to leave…

“Tom.”

Nothing’s changed.

“I’ve missed you.”

What’s the prompt for next week, guys?Β 

Make suggestions below. 7 words or less.

33 thoughts on “WEEK 17: Tom

  1. Wow! Do you wanna make me cry already this morning? *starts to sob*

    That broke my heart….

    Prompt: “Stop!” she yelled. (Hehe…see what I did there. Stop making me cry.)

      1. Yah it came out way different than I thought it might, but I was pleased with the end result. :3

        Suggestion for future prompt: The devil’s gumball machine

  2. Sadness, and the feeling that this might end happily… so happiness!

    And now, I must suggest next week’s theme.

    “They say you don’t dream in cryosleep…” Try doing something with that πŸ˜‰

    1. Sad AND happy, Mr Matt?

      My work here is done.

      Oh, man. You’re gonna laugh but a scene instantly into my head for that prompt hahaha! Who would’ve thunk, eh? πŸ˜›

      Hugs,
      Ann

    1. Miss Desiree!

      *tackle hugs*

      Don’t worry, I do that all the time!! Actually, I could’ve made the first one work. Somehow. Yeah. πŸ˜‰ Thank you sooo much!!

      More hugs cuz…reasons,
      Ann

      1. Yeah I know you could have now that I think about it…..that’s why you’re the professional 😜

        Des

  3. Ouch! You are the queen of angst!
    Dear Tom,
    As a character in Ann’s story, it was bound not to end well. If you desire a lighter, fluffier tone, with a happier ending, go visit my imagination. πŸ˜‰
    – Lu5
    Okay here is a slew of suggestions!
    His eyes. He worried what she saw.
    Without his cane, he was screwed.
    There were looks of pity.
    She didn’t know how to help
    Eyes darted every way, but his.
    Overwhelmed, he looked at the equipment.
    β€œI got this.” He told her, confidently.
    Denial. It was his permanent address.
    He couldn’t look her in the eye.
    If he stayed, it was temporary.
    She deserved his brother, not him.
    She ran to him, despite objections.
    “Go,” he yelled at her.

    1. Miss LesleyLu5!

      Woooweee! You always come up with so many darn ideas! And they’re all so freakin’ good!! Thank you!

      Hugs,
      Ann

      P.S. – Tom says he was much happier visiting your imagination πŸ˜‰

  4. Okay I totally forgot to come back and give my prompt suggestion after I whittled it down from 8-9 word to 7 or less! So suggestion is . . .

    “I really want to hate you, but . . .”

  5. Great story like always!
    I love and hate angsty stories at the same time. And I admit it, I always hope for a Happy Ending.

    My prompts:
    But….I hate broccoli!
    Please say yes!
    I wish I had an umbrella.
    My name is Bond, James Bond.

    1. Hellooo, Miss Cat!

      Hmm. I think there was a happy ending somewhere around week 3 or 4? πŸ˜‰ For reals, though, thank you!!

      Hugs,
      Ann

      P.S. – Oh, man. I legit just thought of a little story using all of those suggestions πŸ˜›

      1. Oh, please go for it!
        Thanks to you I have now a broccoli eating James Bond under an umbrella in the pouring rain in my head who keeps on telling me “yes, yes, yes…”!
        πŸ˜‰

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