#; too lazy to send via submit so u get this

[rkhongjoong]

▫︎ ▪︎  ━     <     txts  ;   god voice jinyoung     >

●  [  SENT  ]   /O/ it’s your birthday ~~~ we’re now both officially twenty two ~~~ ●  [  SENT  ]   ㅋ do something fun for me and pretend i’m doing it with you because i can’t be there with you ●  [  UNSENT  ]   sorry i’m not around as much.  you’ll understand soon

▫︎ ▪︎  ━     <     @rkpjy     >

[m88n]

Hiiii ti! Omg no it’s all good, I tend to reply pretty promptly otherwise I will actually completely forget to and will only remember in three month’s time haha. It’s all good, as long as you enjoy talking to me and I’m not disturbing with so many messages 😂. I’d love talking but am v conscious everyone has diff boundaries and I don’t think your priority should ever be a stranger on the internet lol. Oh that’s so good!!! i’m quite spiritual too. I think you get more zen as you get older 1/??

too because you just give no shits about what people think. Omg more power to you!!! i feel like I transform when I wear it, like a magical girl 😂 but I’m just too lazy to do it lol. That’s a good way to be 😌. What’s ur fave makeup brand or product?Ooooh if u want I will send them to u via insta then!!!! I am always cooking and baking for my friends and fam 😌. i think one of my favourite cakes is an opera cake, which has layers of coffee buttercream and chocolate ganache 🤩2/??

or a white choc muddy boi!!!! Except I need them to be dairy free because milk hates me 😭. do u have a fave sweet or cake? I’m march 14! White day 🥰. Hehe yes pls don’t visit me until it’s safe 😂 in the interim we can plan a brunch crawl LOL. seclusion ftw. I was psyched when I went into remote working LOL an introvert’s dream!!! Luv u hope ur well get on the beers 🥰💖🥰💖 3/3 lol soz i think the formatting got eaten when i submitted these dkjaskdsa

🌚🌚🌚🌚🌚

Hello ... its me again steph 🥺💖🌚 hahahaa i feel you on that, but i really am someone notorious for replying late 😂😂💀💀😔😔 rip i mean as long as ppl get i dont mean any harm 🥲🥲 feel like my way of doing things is just very .... ??? Sometimes LMAO at times i feel like that part of me *might* b a lil similar to jaemin (??) like ppl cud sometimes b like tf is she thinkin HAHHAHA but i mean is me guys wat can i do abt it ..... yes v happy to hear that ur conscious about diff boundaries (giving + receiving) steph cos i feel like thats super ipt when ur relating to others.....🥺🥺👍🏻 but please plz don’t think ur a stranger to me steph😢😢😢 makes me feel the saddo !!!!

Thats so true hahaa omg it took me awhile to get here tho girl and im happy i did (and happy u did too🥺🥺💐) cos i feel like not everyone has the privilege of coming home to urself methinks. Same omg i literally do it to boost my fickle self esteem during the rona & bc im not exposing myself to any action these days 😂😂😂🌚🌚💀 n its fun !!! Exactly like a magical girl, like what kinda look shud i do this time !! Hahaha. Hmmm im a lipstick hoarder LOOL n i always love it when i mix colors n stuff... i dont usually buy korean makeup but i love their lip products omg !! My recent fav lip product is apieu true matte liquid(?) in some almond omg... its so good girl like i cud smudge it or wear it straight up🥲🥲🥲 love makeup LOL. Do u have any fav makeup products steph or a fav brand ???🥺

YES PLZ ok its about time i come home 2 our ig dms 😭😭😭😭🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 send them plz (if u don’t mind) !!!! 🍪🧁 Like how cat spams her cat pics whether or not were there to respond HAHAHAHA :”D ohhhhh damn opera cake is a solid cake yum !!! 🥲🥲 ohhhh u a white choc girl ?? (Fitting cos ur birthday on white day ???) I personally dont really like white choc😂 or what typa choc u like the most ??

Noo that must’ve been annoying since u love baking n desserts :/ but u gotta do wat u gotta do . Lately my stomach thing is doin its thing n man ... its so annoying but truly Health #1 . !!! ! Yes omg !! I LOVE strawberry shortcakes and fruit rolls like ones ud see at a japanese bakery 🥺🥺🥺🥺 or anything chocolatey mmmmm. Or mille crepes!!! Ohhhh damn. So many of my friends have birthdays in march ... u got anything planned for ur special day steph?? 😃👍🏻💘 LMAOOO but yea im actually planning to eventually visit u tho (if im still welcome then LOL), cos im also visiting my other friend who moved to syd 🥲🥲🥲👍🏻 two birds w one stone only rona getting in the way . OOOOO brunch crawl yes yes yes please !!! I went to syd a few yrs ago n i remember eating so many good food damn. 🥺🥺🥺✨✨✨

LOL omg dude fr tho 😂😂 my extrovert friends r like dying n im rly js chillen in my room HAHAH 💀💀💀💀 thank yu i hope ur well too luv 🥺💘💐 unfortunately getting on the beers will still hav 2 be postponed bc my stomach is being an ass these days lsjfkfjwojdj 💖💖💖✨✨✨

[tifu-today-i-fucked-up]

TIFU by accidentally sending furry porn to my girlfriend

This happened about an hour ago. So, a bit of backstory:

I have a friend in my class that for no reason whatsoever loves eevee hentai. This is actually pretty normal of him, as he is overall a weird guy. Lazy one at that, too. And because he doesn't want to delete his internet history, he forces me to search for it and send it to him via discord.

Here's where the TIFU begins. They both have pretty much the same profile picture on discord – the same character in pretty much the same setting. (for those who are interested – Youmu from Touhou, if that is important) They are the last I have written to, so pictures were right on top of each other. Another factor is that I’m browsing r/FeralPokePorn and playing a game at the same time, so I was pretty distracted. I found a few pictures of what my friend wanted and sent them. Immediately I get texted back by my girlfriend (as we were texting about something else before that) Oops.

At least she knows about that friend and she is still laughing about it.

TL;DR: Sent some NSFW eeveelution pictures to my girlfriend that were meant for a friend of mine.

submitted by /u/Srooku [link] [comments]

[ecotone99]

[RF] My First Girlfriend

I should confess: I didn’t have a girlfriend until I started university. I wasn’t too busy not to have one. I was just more of a barbarian and was keeping myself away not only from girls but from everyone.

When I started university, I realized that having a girlfriend is not only normal but also actually necessary. We have a saying, loneliness is reserved to Allah, and I realized it then. I don’t know if it was because I was away from my family or because I was living with more than four hundred guys in the same building, and three guys in the same room.

I never had the aim of having a girlfriend as such. Even when I started university, this went on for a long while – until towards the end of the second semester.

It was sometime around March. We the newbies heard about something called spring fest. Famous musicians were going to perform free concerts, there were going to be free cultural activities and so on. I sure wouldn’t mind such a thing! If there’s something better than free cultural event, that’s cultural event in which I’d get paid.

The elder were experienced on spring fests. They told us newbies that there are three simple rules:

Spring fest is the best time of the year. Even better than summer. Therefore, we were supposed to make the most of it.

To make the most of it, we needed to drink until we puke, attend every concert, and do what we otherwise wouldn’t.

And surely, we had to have a girlfriend, even if only for and during the spring fest. A single guy at spring fest meant that he is not worth anything, and spring fest was nothing without a girlfriend.

“Go and find that girl!”

“Man, am I supposed to go say ‘hello. I need someone for the week. Beers on me’ or what?”

“Yeah, why not? But don’t be such an asshole. Be nice.”

“Like?”

“Say: Sue me if you won’t have an orgasm.”

“What if she won’t?”

“She can’t blame you of anything. Fuck, am I supposed to teach you how to pick girls up? Go and do, you bugger!”

“Dude, you’re kidding me right?”

“We’ll get in line and fuck you one after another if you won’t have a girl.”

For a month we were told, every day, every hour of every day, every minute of every hour, over and over again that we needed to find a girlfriend for the fest. Burak, my roommate, came to me one evening.

“Dude, what will we do?”

“About what?”

“About the fest. We’re still single.”

“You too? Come on. We won’t die.”

“We won’t but everyone says that we should find a girl”. He looked at me, then to himself. “If we waxed ourselves actually” he said with half smile on his face.

His body was hairy as a chimp, and I’m no less than a bear.

“No, sorry honey. You’re not worth losing my hair.”

“But come on. We can close our eyes and kiss that way. We need to shave properly though.”

I held his hand.

“Love me with my hair, if you will.”

“Our love is an impossible one, then.”

“I’ll wait for you…”

Once we sorted out that our relationship wouldn’t work, we went our ways and sought potential targets. Yet as one week was left to the fest, me and Burak were still single. That evening he talked to me. Once more.

“Man, there’s this girl at the department. You’re more beautiful than her, she’s that ugly. So I definitely stand a chance with her. I will ask her out tomorrow.”

“Buy her some cactus then. ‘It’s as beautiful as you could get’ you can say.”

“Fuck off. When I’ll get her, you’ll be the only single one here. Then you can fuck yourself.”

“You just said that I’m more beautiful than her. There surely will be some that will want me.”

“You’d have found already if so.”

“Who meant girls?”

“I told you that our love is an impossible one.”

“Never say never darlin’.”

That night I couldn’t sleep well and I was awake at five past seven. Strangely, rather than going back to sleep, I got out of bed and decided to go to the class after three weeks of not attending even one of them.

At 8.40 was the class of probably the sweetest professor ever, Aylin Ege. She was barely taller than a meter and she was a bit overweight. When she was walking, especially swiftly while holding books on her chest, she was rolling like a ball. It was a joy to see her – even at 8.40, long before waking up.

To see her shine and enjoy the rest of the day, I went to the department that morning. I was there a bit early and many classmates were there already. I didn’t know many of them. I couldn’t find the comfort of the dorm at the department with people. Maybe because they all were competing people – and I hate competition. “Come on guys” many times I wanted to say. “Let you all be the top of the class. Chill some. In the worst case we will become civil servants. Why try to take someone down just for that”?

Of course, I never said. For that I needed to be at the department and I was too lazy.

You know, there was this girl. Duygu. Her name means feeling. I really liked her the day that I saw her. She was barely over 1.50, yet her huge eyes and dark and long hair were so well suiting the rest of her face. She might not have been a beauty queen for some, but for me she surely was a charming one.

That morning I bought a bagel to silence my rumbling stomach. Sat across the class and started nibbling it, and I saw her coming. I said my official good morning, yet rather than passing me by, she decided to sit down and eat with me.

Oh God. Was this going to be our first meal together? At a stupid corner of the department, at 8.30 in the morning, waiting for the class?

After some usual, meaningless and actually useless questions and answers like “how are you”, “I’m okay and you”, “I like spring”; she, out of nowhere, looked at me with her huge and beautiful eyes, for some seconds which felt like decades, and slowly, carefully, but also determinedly spelled out five words:

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

Her eyes were still on me, but my heart beat so strong that it had left my chest already. Time stopped. No one moved, no one breathed, no birds sang. Even sun stopped sending its photons to us. Everyone was looking at us, everyone was shocked, everyone was so happy that I found a girlfriend for the fest, maybe for later as well.

Yet I gulped and, with a reason which I still don’t know, could hardly and inaudibly whispered “yes”. For half a second my inner voice talked to me:

“Yes? You fucker, do you have a girlfriend? Did you even have a girlfriend? What the hell is yes? Fuck you man. Okay? Fuck you. Fuck. You. Burak doesn’t count as girlfriend you idiot. Duygu is a girl, not Burak!”

“What? Did I say yes?”

“Your fucking neurons don’t fucking work. What the hell is yes? Where is this fucking girlfriend? Fuck you man, one in a lifetime thing this was. What the hell is yes?!”

“I should add ‘would be a wrong answer’. What say you?”

“You’re already late. Look at her.”

Her huge eyes turned down. Partly trying to silence my inner voice, partly with the expectation that she will say yes, I asked the question back at her: Do you have a boyfriend?

Her answer was simple, and shorter than mine. “No”. And my inner voice started talking again.

“YOU ARE THE BIGGEST IDIOT I HAVE EVER SEEN!”

“Dude, how could I know?”

“WHAT DID YOU NEED TO KNOW? WHAT WAS THERE TO KNOW?!”

“Man, it hurts already. Don’t. Please.”

“YOU’LL REGRET THIS. YOU FUCKING WILL FUCKING REGRET THIS!”

“Damn. A wonderful girl practically asks me out and I refuse it. I shouldn’t tell this at the dorm. They’ll kick me out.”

“YOU’LL BE LUCKY IF THEY WILL ONLY KICK YOU OUT!”

It was a short time left to the class and somehow ashamed, she just left with an official “see you later”.

“Yeah, see me later. Please see me later. I can break up with my imaginary girlfriend during the class. It ain’t a problem at all. Let’s just please meet up after the class. Please. I beg you.”

But of course, it was too late. After the class, I couldn’t even see her leaving. But I had a great idea after this first potential-relationship-failure: I could have an imaginary girlfriend, which would protect me from annoyances. I was good with imagining things, and I didn’t need to spend much energy. But, probably because of regret, I described the girl exactly as Duygu: On the shorter side with huge eyes and long and dark hair. Studying economics, yet in Istanbul. Few seemed to believe me and the rest simply pitied. My first spring fest was a great failure. Neither I liked the artists nor I liked the events. Worse of all, all my friends, including Burak, were occupied and I was the only single one – which made things harder. As a result, rather than being out, I was mostly in, reading. The only upside of this imaginary girlfriend and being single for the week was that I finished Kant’s Groundwork and Kuhn’s Structure of Scientific Revolutions back then.

Duygu, you may ask. I saw her later at the shopping center of the campus. She was having coffee –

– with some guy: Her head was on his chest, and his hand was on her leg. “It could have been me” I thought but the voice in me spoke up again. “You have a good relationship. Don’t think of such things you fucking sucker.”

​

(PS: Although the genre is realistic fiction, this is neither realistic nor fiction: This is real. Just one of my memories from my miserable university life. Shame on me, I know. I know it so damn well)

(PPS: I am making a series on my miserable university life here. Not that it is a great series, but in case you'd like to see more. The site is no more than an ordinary blog made with WordPress)

submitted by /u/penahi [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/3fPquR1

[hoteles5estrellas]

One of the beauties of being self-employed and living in the boonies is the option to spend the better part of a day compiling shit posts for Reddit while cuddling with your cat.

While I sincerely hope this post is far from shit, here goes – The Ultimate List of Money Saving Tips for Travel

Flights

First and foremost…Read the /r/travel Airfare Wiki – You’ll soon be transformed into a cheap flight guru and save /u/jippiejee an ulcer in the process.

Sign up for airline newsletters: I know your inbox is already overflowing with crap from JCPenny’s & Old Navy but some of the cheapest tickets I’ve ever purchased were direct from the airlines during a flash sale. This technique is especially good for domestic flights or shorter international routes.

Get to know the budget airlines serving your hub or hubs you plan to visit. Most of these airlines don’t show up on flight search engines….WOW, Wizz, etc. Just Google <budget airlines *airport name*>.

Sign up for Scott’s Cheap Flights – Also, http://ift.tt/1w6Iebc & http://ift.tt/OmlAMB

Roll the Dice with 3rd Party Booking Sites: OTAs will bend you over without lube should a situation arise where you need to access Customer Service – but if you’re 100% sure of your dates/times and are capable of spelling your name correctly, there are plenty of scenarios where CheapoAir, Expedia or Travelocity do find goofy flight options that are significantly cheaper than booking direct. Travelers willing to endure brutal layovers to save a few hundred bucks can score killer deals. Don’t rely on OTAs but don’t totally discount them during your flight search, either.

Massage Google Flights’ prostate: Here’s a good article from the Liberal Elite on giving Google Flights the finger in a good way – Google Flights is a utensil you can’t afford to leave off your tool belt.

Ask your parents for loads of free money: YMMV with this one. I’ve never had any luck with it but I’ve seen plenty of folks doing Yoga poses on rocks who have.

Listen to the fine people at Skyscanner. They certainly know what they’re on about.

I don’t personally do it but /r/churning/ provides plenty with a MASSIVE travel boner.

Try to be as flexible as you can…search for flights using the flight calendar whenever possible. The exact same flight from the same airline can often be 1/2 the price with just a 2-3 day shift.

Accommodation

To get a nicer hotel room at a deep discount, give Hotwire Hot Rates a go. A similar system is available at http://ift.tt/1srpqEi

Search rooms on Booking.com but then contact hotels direct to see if they’ll meet/match that price. Properties lose fat commissions to booking sites and can be open to negotiating, particularly if it’s a small owner-run place.

http://ift.tt/2n3Sd6U also a pretty good resource straight-up for cheap hotel rates.

Believe it or not, a lot of people still have no clue about hostels…an important detail to note is that not all hostels are 20 to a room, loud, stinky dens of iniquity…some are (and that’s great if a good party and cheap bunk is what you’re after) but others aren’t. You can find super nice hostels that are more like boutique hotels with shared rooms than wild booze/sex dungeons for 20-somethings…and everything in between. Here are a few popular engines: http://ift.tt/zWgMXx http://ift.tt/uTW9Gd http://ift.tt/1Yn1TTZ http://hostelzoo.com/

Sign up for these Newsletters: http://ift.tt/2n3SdDW & http://ift.tt/TRr3xP

You’re probably a millennial. Act like it: https://www.airbnb.com/

Caveat…I know nothing about this particular form of freeloading: http://ift.tt/1pMh7zt

Vacation rentals can be a killer deal if you’re traveling with a group: Along the same lines, Google <vacation rentals in *town name*> to find local websites with apartment/house listings.

Transport

Rome 2 Rio is fucking amazing.

Take the subway and don’t be intimidated by the public bus system. Buses are for losers who can’t afford to buy a car…if they can figure it out…you can figure it out. Or walk, you lazy bastard.

For low-budget travelers, the old “take a night bus/train to save a night’s lodging” still works wonders…bonus points if you’re a normal sized human and can actually sleep in a chair.

Rent a bike.

Food

Follow the 6-block rule: Never eat within 6 blocks of a major tourist site.

You’ve been buying food from the supermarket your whole life. It won’t kill you to eat a peanut butter & jelly sandwich in Berlin.

Eat local: Take a chance and wander into neighborhood joints where you have no idea what’s going on. Make the “I’m hungry” hand-to-mouth gesture to the wait staff and they’ll figure out that you’d like to exchange money for food.

Along the same lines…ask locals, even the staff at your hostel/hotel, where you can find good cheap eats.

Pack Imodium and eat street food.

Go Full Cliché! Ooh—la—la, baguette and brie on the green. Voila! Déjeuner bon marché!

Activities

Research museum pricing policies and free nights: Many major museums/sites offer free entrance once a month or once a week. If you’re willing to wait in line you can schedule your visits accordingly. Feel free to use this wait time to whinge to fellow queue mates about your crippling student loans.

Most cities will have a “What’s Happening” site online or a free newspaper version around town…find free festivals, free exhibits and free whatevers.

Into art? Skip museums and browse galleries…just shave and take a shower first…don’t make it obvious that you can’t afford a goddamn thing in there.

Learn to explore aimlessly…some of the most interesting cultural differences can be found wandering the aisles of a hardware store.

Don’t be afraid to skip big name sites if they don’t interest you.

Other

Follow your favorite airlines, hotels & travel sites on social media for first crack at specials.

Research destinations with this Travel Calculator: It could be that there’s another trip just as interesting as the one you’ve got planned for half the cost.

Don’t stress balls over it…but if possible, find a bank card with zero to no international withdrawal fees. The Yankee Doodles use Charles Schwab. (I use the same bank I always have and just pay 5 bucks because I am old and lazy.) If you do simply pay the fee (like me), take out the max with every withdrawal to limit the damage.

Some people like to do backbreaking farm work in exchange for lentils and man bun tying tips: http://wwoof.net/

And here’s a pseudo-legal way to find odd jobs to offset travel costs: http://ift.tt/1H5ih7l

Slow Travel: You’ll never see it all. Don’t try to. Spend more time in fewer places and you’ll save a bundle…my recommendation is to blow all those savings at the pub.

Search Google for promotional codes…you know that little box at checkout? Promo/Coupon? You’d be amazed how often you can find a code to slap in there for an additional discount.

Don’t buy a backpack full of garbage…it’s one thing to bring home a super cool keepsake or two but 90% of the shit I used to buy in the name of souvenir! is now collecting dust on a family member’s curio shelf.

Stuff Not to Do

Don’t buy one of those stupid LIfestraws as if you’re living in a post-apocalyptic video game – just by bottled water like the rest of us…most places sell 5 liter jugs so the true penny pinchers can top up in the hostel.

I personally refuse to support Hidden Ticket Travel but here at the bozos behind the madness. Above I said, “Don’t be afraid to skip big name sites if they don’t interest you.” Don’t confuse this with “Skip sites that DO interest you over a few bucks.” Don’t be that guy who went to Rome and was edgy enough to only see the Coliseum from the outside.

Don’t be a fucking mooch. Don’t be “that guy” who fills his backpack with the free hostel breakfast, ensuring hostel goers with a hangover are left to starve because all the toast is in some hippie’s Jansport. Similarly, don’t whine and cry and bitch and moan and wail on to your new travel buds about how “poor” you are so they’ll buy you drinks or what have you…You’re not poor. Poor people don’t go on vacation. I repeat. Poor people don’t vagabond across the globe in search of Machu Picchus, foreign poontang and spiritual enlightenment. Poor people don’t own 200 Euro backpacks with Camelbak pouches.

Addendum

If you’ve got tips you’d like added to the list, just send me a PM and I’ll cut & paste them here >>>

submitted by /u/Oax_Mike [link] [comments] from Travel http://ift.tt/2nazpUg via IFTTT hoteles cancun hoteles zona hotelera cancun hoteles en guanajuato cadenas de hoteles 5 star hotels new york city five star hotels in new york city 5 star luxury hotels on new york city - best low cost london hotels - NYC hotels five star

[ecotone99]

Memories [RF]

I put the kettle on to boil, as I do every morning, and got a tea bag out of the cupboard. I found some milk in the fridge and made myself a cup of tea. I have started my day with a cup of tea for over 50 years. It used to be a rushed cup in the morning before work, then when I retired it became a lazy cup in bed, delivered to me alongside breakfast by my husband, Reg. Now I make it myself and often sit down to drink it in front of the telly. This morning however, the sun was shining and so I decided to drink my tea outside.

I sat on my patio in my nightdress and looked out over the garden. It wasn’t as warm as I had thought it would be, given how sunny it was, but I thought I’d be all right while I drank my tea. I'd put something warmer on after my shower. Reg was the green fingered one really, and although I tried my best you could tell that the garden was missing him. I thought about Reg, and the garden, and I sipped my tea.

URGH! It was horrid! I’d used one of Jenny’s bloody camomile tea bags. Why does she put them in that silly cupboard, why can’t she put them somewhere else? I swear she does it on purpose, she knows it confuses me. I have always kept my tea bags in that cupboard and I have never drunk camomile so why does she need to put hers in there? Can’t she bring them with her when she comes over?

I was still muttering to myself about the silly tea bags when the phone rang. I went inside to answer it.

“Hi Mummy.” Said Jenny.

“Oh hello dear” I said, “are you alright?”

“Yes thank you Mummy. Have you remembered we are going for lunch today? I have sent a taxi to pick you up at 11:30.”

Hmm. I hadn’t remembered, but there was a note on the side table saying Lunch, Jenny, Weds 11:30 so she must have told me before.

“Of course!” I lied “But I really don’t need a taxi, I can walk into town fine.”

Jenny sighed down the phone.

“I know you can walk, but remember last time?”

I did not remember last time. Was it the time we went for cream tea at the hotel? Or that time I had quiche at the cafe? It didn’t really matter, my legs worked fine, I could walk.

“No, but, I can walk. It’s only ten minutes.”

Another sigh.

“Mummy, please just wait for the taxi. I’ll see you at lunch.” And with that she put down the telephone.

I really did not need a taxi. I know I have been a little forgetful lately, but I knew how to get into town. For goodness sake, I’ve lived in the same town my whole life!

I went upstairs to get ready. I brushed my teeth and had a quick shower to freshen up. Standing in my bedroom and looking out over the garden, I could see that it was a beautiful day. The sun was shining and there wasn’t a cloud in sight. I decided to put on one of my summer dresses and a thin cardigan, I didn’t want to be too hot. I put on a little mascara and cleaned my teeth. Looking at myself in the bathroom mirror, I thought I looked quite pretty, for 68 at least.

The doorbell rang and interrupted my thoughts. I went downstairs and opened it to see a smiling, bright faced, young chap standing on my front step.

“Hi Nancy, you ready?” he said.

“Ready for what?” I enquired.

Who was this young man and why was he talking like he knew me?

“To take you into town for lunch with Jenny.” He said.

“Well why can’t Jenny pick me up herself? And besides, I can walk. Thank you.” I said.

“Jenny lives on the other side of town Nancy, she sends me to pick you up. Remember?”

I did not remember. I can walk into town! But the young gentleman had me by the elbow and was ushering me towards his car. It had a bright yellow taxi sign stuck to the top of it. Had I ordered a taxi?

I got in the car and the young gentleman switched the radio station from something that I think they call “rap” and Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley started to play.

“Ohh I love this song!” I proclaimed “This was our first dance at our wedding.”

The young gentleman smiled at me in the rear view mirror. I looked out of the window at the houses rushing past and thought of Reg and I dancing on our wedding day. I don’t expect it was much of a show to watch, we weren’t good dancers, but he held me close and sang softly in my ear. We had only known each other for three months before we got married, but just as it was in the song, we couldn’t help falling in love.

The song ended and Queen’s Don’t Stop Me Now started.

“Gosh! This one is my favourite!” I said “You know, my husband and I saw Queen play this live. Freddy was just amazing.”

The young gentleman just smiled at me in his mirror.

“What radio station is this please? They have excellent taste in music.” I asked.

He smiled again, “Radio Nancy.” he said, “We’re almost there.”

Radio Nancy? What a bizzare name for a radio station, I wondered if it was founded by a lady called Nancy.

“Sorry, almost where?” I asked, suddenly feeling a little panicky. Who was this man and why was I in his car?

“Almost in town, to meet Jenny. Look, there she is.”

I looked out of the window and saw Jenny standing in a red coat on the side of the pavement about 100 yards ahead. Of course, I was going to meet Jenny. The sun was shining and bouncing off her silky black hair and I wondered why on earth she was wearing such a thick coat on such a fine day.

“Here you are then.” said the man as he got out of the driver’s seat and opened the passenger door for me. Chauffeur service! I could get used to this!

“Hello Mummy” said Jenny and we kissed on the cheeks “Didn’t you bring a coat?” She frowned at me and rubbed my shoulders.

“Why would I need a coat? It’s a perfectly pleasant day.”

“It’s February Mummy, you need a coat because it’s February.”

I suppose it did feel a little chilly…

We went to our favourite cafe and I ordered a coffee and a slice of chocolate cake. Jenny ordered a salad and a glass of water. I really thought she ought to order something a bit more substantial. She was looking a bit under the weather for some reason. The lines in her face seemed deeper and something about her just seemed… older.

“Have you been feeling well?” I asked “ You look a little peaky.”

Jenny looked at me with sadness in her eyes.

“Yes mummy, I’m fine. How are you getting on? Did you have breakfast this morning? You can’t live off chocolate cake alone!”

She smiled with her mouth but I could see that her eyes were still sad. I avoided the question about breakfast.

“Darling” I said, “What’s wrong?”

Jenny sighed and looked at me with those same sad eyes.

“Nothing is wrong mummy.”

I don’t know what I’d done but something I said must have upset her.

That evening I sat in my armchair with a photo album on my lap and flicked through pictures of Jenny’s childhood, when Reg was still alive. I looked at my little Jenny, at her happy, smiling face and then across to Reg’s empty chair. I wished I could go back to that time. I thought of Jenny’s sad face at lunch and thought about when, exactly, it was that I had started to disappoint her so. I couldn’t pinpoint the exact time but I knew what it was.

Recently, little pieces of my life had gone missing. Like a jigsaw with pieces removed, I could feel the outline of what was missing, but I just couldn’t quite remember which part of the puzzle was on them.

I knew what was happening to me, and I knew that it was making Jenny sad too. Every time she met me, she saw a version of her mother that was just a little less complete than the version she had seen before. She was watching me disappear right in front of her eyes. I closed my eyes and felt tears running down my cheeks. I didn’t want to lose the piece of me that remembered Jenny, or the piece that remembered Reg. Right now, I still felt like me, but one day maybe I wouldn’t. Would there be a day when I go for lunch with Jenny and I don’t recognise her?

I picked up the photo album and walked straight out of my front door. I was still in my summer dress and it was bitterly cold in the dark, but I didn’t care. I walked barefoot, down my street and towards the beach. The sand was cold under my toes but I could smell the salty air of the sea and the gentle sound of the waves soothed me. I wandered down the beach, guided by the moonlight until I reached the spot, far down the beach, near the rock pools, where Jenny, Reg and I liked to set up our towels in the summer. I layed down the photo album before removing my summer dress, folding it carefully and placing it next to the photo album.

I thought of Jenny and how much I loved her. I hoped she would understand. I turned and walked into the sea. I kept walking, the cold waves lapping at my knees, taking my breath away as they sloshed over my chest. Still I kept walking. When my feet no longer reached the sea bed I swam. I had always loved the sea, and I enjoyed the peaceful feeling of swimming. I swam and I swam and I swam, with nothing but open sea before me.

Finally, I was exhausted. I turned to see the beach, but in the darkness I could hardly

make it out. My toes and my fingers had gone numb and I was beginning to find it hard to breathe in the cold water, but I was not afraid. I lay on my back and looked up at the stars. I closed my eyes and thought of Reg. We would be together again soon.

submitted by /u/PomonaK [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2Vrv93i

[ecotone99]

[SP] Monday Mail- very first post on reddit

MONDAY MAIL

Ugh, I knew this was coming. I spent the weekend doing no work when I really should have gotten a head start on this crazy week, so I knew this was coming, I did, but still I find myself being immensely irked when I am quite unpleasantly awakened by a rush of incoming instant messages. To be clear, I say I was awakened, but my eyes are still tightly shut as I try my very best to put off what is surely an unpleasant flurry of correspondences prodding me to get to work.

All the croo-coo-croos (rather elegantly referred to as "IM alerts", but trust me, at 7am on a Monday morning, they all sound like IM foghorns) above me, all the fluttering... I estimate at least 30 IMs are now above-head and out of those, at least 5 "urgent" ones with the extra loud alert (a shrill squawk instead of the default gentle coo-croo). There'll be feathers shed all over my bed for sure, if the loud flapping is anything to go by. I must have left my window open (I never learn) yesterday, and they've found their way in. What! A! Cacophony!

Speaking of foghorns, my alarm was set for 715am and it hasn't even rung yet, but these IMs from the office early birds (ha ha) have come pouring in without mercy! I pull the covers over my head to drown out the crescendo of flapping wings and avian cries. The thin summer duvet is, of course, no match for the orchestra circling my bedroom ceiling. I knew I shouldn't have registered to receive work IMs at home!

I am now fully awake and growing tired of the auditory assault. I suppose it's best I deal with the urgent ones, at least, so the poor birds can stop their unusually loud squawking. Whoever thought up instant messaging is a curse on all corporate employees! Gone are the days when mail was sent by internal post and took at least 3 days to arrive on your desk. These days, it's scribble a note (don't even bother with grammar!) "Whr is mthly report?" put it in the harness of your trusted courier, and flap flap flap, a short flight later, your colleague (who, by the way, may not choose to start his job at the ungodly hour of 7am, but who cares, right?) receives your note in 30 minutes! Less, if they live close to the office! With the growing IM industry, phone companies have switched to providing couriers instead of phone lines- a much better business, of course, as the commodity prices of unicorn hair required to power the phone lines now cost more than a human lung. I blame the unicorn poachers for this. In any case, now making a phone call costs something ridiculous like 3000 dollars per minute for a local call! Insane!

Oh great, now my phone is ringing. Argh, this is going be one of those Mondays. I throw back the covers and took 2 strides to the phone on the wall. "He-", before I even finish with my intended "-llo", my teammate Stan barks down the phone at me. "Khai! Khai, did you receive my IM? I sent it a whole 15 minutes ago! Will you please reply? I've got just the one courier now, the other 2 are at the vet, and I need to send out another IM to Marie in accounts for the monthly sales reports. Khai, you hear me? Hello?" Verbal diarrhoea , but I can hardly blame him. Given the soaring price of calls, we've been given strict instructions by HQ to use phone calls only when of the "utmost importance and/or urgency". Otherwise, it's IMs all the way! God, I hate IMs. Have I said how much I hate IMs?

Oh hey, Stan. Good morning to you, too. I'm well, and no, I'm not a morning person, but that's okay, because you are and the world revolves around you! Geez. This, I say in my head. I've been told off by HR before for using "inappropriate words at work".

Out loud, I return the verbal rap "Hey Stan! Good morning! Yes, I'm on it. Right away. Happy to do so. Now remind me, which courier is yours? Oh, right, the brown one? There're at least a half dozen brown pigeons here.. you have to give me something more. Right, speckled with white and with a neon yellow note holder? Yes, yes clever trick painting it neon. Okay, yes I've got it. I'll send it back in the next 5 minutes!" and I promptly hang up. Good. That shouldn't have been more than 1.5 minutes. We've all become rap gods since HQ started crawling up our asses whenever we made a phone call.

I hopped on my bed and reach up into the circling mass of pigeons. A swift grab at Stan's pigeon. Took out the scroll of paper on which was his precious IM, grabbed a pencil, scribbled a standard response "got it, will look into ASAP whn in. Rgds, Khai", stuffed the IM back into the holder on the courier pigeon's foot, opened my window wide, and as gently as I can muster in my current state, chucked the dratted bird out the window. The bird hovered at my window for a second, throwing me a dirty look for chucking it with more force than necessary, then swiftly flapped away back to Stan in the office.

1 down, another... I looked up and did a quick count...... 33 more IMs to go.

I trudge into the toilet to get ready, the birds flapping behind me and hovering above my head as I picked up my toothbrush.

Today's going to be a long day.

Thank you for reading, all constructive criticism welcomed.

This short story is dedicated to WKA, who thought up the concept of pigeon mail. He mentioned to me on a lazy weekend how funny it'd be if we received mail from birds and your friend calls you up to ask you to return his bird cos he needs it, and you'd grab his bird, read his note, then chuck the bird out the window to go home. This guy says the darnedest things, and sometimes these turn out to be really good story ideas. In any case, without him there'd be no avian mail short story.

submitted by /u/CharlotteduMonde [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/338ai7y

[ecotone99]

[MF] How Small We Are

Tick....Tick....Tick...

That old clock still has my number. The cats eyes go back and forth, but they're always watching me. From the kitchen, to the living room, and though the walls seperate us, I can feel it watching in the bathroom. Shampoo bottles half empty, my blow dryer and bubble bath. I don't need these things, but I need to take them. I picked a few empty boxes from the grocery nearby, but havent filled up one yet.

Tick....Tick...

If I just sit on the floor..no, if I lay actually, I can see the colors of the curtains and couches swirling around. I'm not high yet, nothing to drink this early, and still I'm spinning. I want to rip the books off of the shelf and hurl them at the TV, but then I won't have the white noise. Maury or something is playing, they're about to find out if some guy is the father to a child of a loud woman. I hope he's not. If I get up now, and start collecting and packing, I'll likely feel a sense of accomplishment, that's what I've been primed to believe, but what really will be done? I'll have moved on from a place of comfort, even if it has grown less familiar. I'll be carrying my things, physical and emotional, from block to block, searching for a new place to put down my baggage. Who does that help, and what does it accomplish? Maybe I'll just leave it all. Who needs these things; pots and pans, frilly curtains and polished oak poles. If I'd spent less time picking them out, maybe I wouldn't feel so conflicted. What do I need from here anymore, and what did I need from here to begin with? I'm wondering if I ever felt truly at home here, or if I bought these accessories to distract myself from an empty feeling I've always had inside these walls.

Tick....Tick...

If I step onto the balcony and look below, I can see the flower garden meant to be cared for by this floor, the apartments above and below, and mine. A bare area in the middle where I got lazy, or apathetic, or forgetful. I don't remember the last time I planted something, and It's harder to remember if it was out of a gradual lack of interest, or if there was a clear and defined event that curbed my desire to make the patch of earth I was responsible for a nicer and more beautiful thing to see and touch. I normally have an ashtray, but I think It's in one of the boxes now, so It can't hurt too much to flick one cigarette off the porch, just this time. I've been avoiding our room. I can't be in there, I keep thinking. It's too hard, I keep saying. I wonder though if I feel ashamed, or If I feel betrayed. I don't know why he did it, but I wonder if it was my fault. Maybe I wasn't loving enough, or maybe I was distracted dwelling in my dark times and failed to see his. I've been told before about the distraction. My parents, my friends, I'm always reffered to as if I'm empty headed, or just careless to others feeling. Maybe I am? Is this an opportunity to work on a bad habit and salvage future relationships? Should I take the plates and silverware? I could just buy more, but I did pick these out specifically because they matched our dining room walls and table. If I find myself lying on the floor again, does that say something about my desire to take what's mine anymore? What is mine, anymore?

Tick....

I think I should just leave this place behind and move on, to something scary and brand new and different. Maybe I should change my hair, my name, throw out all of my clothes and start a new life. I'm lost, but still alive. I'll leave these possessions, and the boxes, and just walk east. I will walk into our room one last time, and say goodbye, and kiss his forehead. That at the very least will save me from worrying about taking my red lipstick, and I may as well leave the rest of my makeup too. The clock is still watching though, so perhaps I'll just send a postcard from my new life. 'Love From Sunny Somewhere, Wish You Were Here!'

And I do, wish you were here. Just like I know I'll wish you were with me anywhere I go. I can't pretend things are a certain way anymore though, just like I know now you couldn't. So If I just leave it all behind, what will be waiting for me outside? The trees and sidewalks, the birds and buses, all with purpose, ill defined, with expectations just like mine. Dependent on the will of other people to make our purpose known, and weak enough to be benign as soon as others cease to use us.

So I do, leave the boxes, but I think I'll take that fucking clock.

submitted by /u/Kaleamity [link] [comments] via Blogger http://bit.ly/2YlMFVu

[ecotone99]

How our family gets money.

I walk down to the basement. Check my surroundings. It’s dark. Always dark. There’s no windows in the basement, no windows in the house.

My son is strapped to the table. He’s nervous, I can tell. He’s always nervous. Wimp. At least he’s not crying like the first time. After many rounds of this, he’s at least toughened up a little.

First things first, anesthetic. I’m not a monster. I put the mask on him, and in a few minutes he’s out. Time to start.

The first cut is always the hardest. I always worry I’ll mess up. I can’t damage anything, or it won’t sell. There’s a lot of pressure on me.

You start with the heart. It’s the most valuable. The brain is too, but brain transplants do not exist.

After he’s all hollowed out, I set him on the bed. I clean off my tools. They don’t have any blood on them, but bacteria is still a concern.

As I finish, I can hear my son starting to wake. It doesn’t take long for us to regenerate, so I’m not too surprised. He stands up, and looks at the pile on the table beside me.

“Oh good. You’re back. You can help me bag these.”

“Seriously mom?” He rolls his eyes. Teenagers. So lazy.

“Since they came from you, yes.”

Reluctantly my son helps me bag. The organs will sell well on the black market. They always do. We always make enough money off of them to live comfortably and get the blood we need to survive.

Yeah, it’s kinda gross, but the alternative is worse. After all, we can’t even go outside for half the day, so this is what we have to do.

Finally, we are done. I send my son upstairs.

“Get your sister. It’s her turn now.”

submitted by /u/Mintymidnight [link] [comments] source https://www.reddit.com/r/shortscarystories/comments/bf10pi/how_our_family_gets_money/ via Blogger http://bit.ly/2VU6Skr

[ecotone99]

[FN] A Midsummer Nightmare

The forest before you is ancient, and it is dark. Far darker than it should be, in the middle of the day. It is literally noon, yet beneath the heavy canopy of dark green leaves and even darker brown wood, it is as twilight, as you can see. Use your imagination a moment, if you would: at night, it will stay the same, as the moon will filter through gaps that remain elusive to the apparently lazy sun. No wind or breeze disturbs the unnatural silence between the trees, but if it did, it would stink of rot and corruption.

The algae, moss and mould just clinging to the trees is not the healthy kind. It is everywhere: just behind you on that tree, on the log behind it, even on that rabbit hopping fatally slowly to your left over there. It is slowly eating the forest alive. It is also more than capable of swallowing a human in mere hours. Painfully, and slowly.

And this is during the day. The night is infinitely more dangerous. The moonlight has a tendency to show the true nature of things, and reveal what would be hidden beneath the sun. As I said, the sun can be incredibly lazy.

The young man involved in the strange, twisted game of hide and seek is getting nervous. The beautiful woman had not set a boundary for their game, and it had been a long time since he had begun looking. Now that he is thinking with the head on his shoulders, he is getting increasingly nervous. Very nervous. She hadn’t even given him a name, and he is beginning to think that this woman he had met on the edge of the trees had not, in fact, been a woman.

If only he had come to this realisation before he had entered the trees. Very, very few ever left this place, and those that did were insane, possessed, or a myth. He doesn’t spot the movement to his left. The nymph who had ensnared the boy would be irate, to know that something has taken her entertainment. Not many humans could be lured in any more. They were too scared. So a meal such as this one is highly prized these days. She should have stayed nearer. Maybe allowed the boy to taste some of those fruits that had so quickly thrown all logic and reason from his mind.

The rustling behind him remains unnoticed as well, but, as I’m sure you can see, his great blue eyes widen at the sound of a giggle. This giggle did not come from his nymph. This giggle came from something far older, and much more malevolent. You will notice how he has tensed up. Every falling leaf, like raindrops, are scaring him into a stupor, his own shadow terrifying him into a gibbering mess. As that giggle fades away, he is suddenly all too aware of that ever-present, permeating silence. Puck has the tendency to do that. With only a small giggle, he can send the bravest creatures insane, and clear a square kilometre of the woods of any animals, great or small.

He misses the days of the courageous, who could stand against that fear, and provide a challenge, but even then, he will never refuse a little fun. Had Tilda known it was Puck who had found her morsel, she would still have fumed. But she would have fumed silently.

Things in the forest are dire and dark indeed, since Puck killed the faerie royalty. His insane tendencies that had once been so fun and endearing had taken a sour turn since the troupe of actors had escaped him, and none had escaped this nightmare he was enforcing upon the forest.

There were even rumours that Puck wanted to expand the forest, start to creep closer to the city, but none knew what would happen if they were to attempt it. Even the King and Queen, with all their power, had been scared of the consequences of such a thing. The faerie folk may be powerful in this forest, but out in the world, there were greater, much older forces at play, and they would not be happy to hear of this Puck character upsetting the balance they had so carefully achieved.

Anyway, let us return to the boy before us. He has a lesson to teach you. By now he is stark raving mad, and the small part of him that is aware of this hopes that his end is nigh.

It is.

Puck slowly comes out of one of those shadows we saw earlier, into a beam of sunlight, which, for once, actually does its job and illuminates the creature it touches.

The boy whimpers. He sobs, once, for a mother who does not know him, who is from another time and in another world. Puck smiles, and the boy dies.

Let us take a look at this character, this Puck. He has black wings, that, in his disuse, turn into tattoos that stretch down his back. He wears tight ripped black skinny jeans, and his skin glitters a metallic gold despite its matte white colour. He wears nothing else. He has black curly hair, that isn’t quite as long as the short curly horns that poke above it. And his bright black eyes, once so mischievous, glint with the light of unhinged insanity.

He leaps into movement, grabbing the body and running gleefully away, like it weighs nothing, his crouched, jagged, uneven gait unnervingly quick, and he has left our soft, grassy, leafy stage in a heartbeat.

Sometime later, Tilda, our nymph, comes looking for her toy. She finds the evidence of him in the grass, and smells the scent of death. She rages and howls, but she can also smell the sour, acrid corruption that now envelopes Puck, so she curbs her temper quickly, then slips quietly away.

And now our stage is empty. Can you guess? Do you know what message this boy is here to teach you? Do you know why I brought you here, to another world? No?

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I found the wrong world. Perhaps you are not who - or what - I was searching for. Or have you just Forgotten? Many worlds have Forgotten, and while it makes you weak, some have been known to Remember.

I am disappointed in you. But you can be fixed. Next time you pick up a quill, or a pen, or sit at a keyboard, Remember me. Next time you begin to imagine, Think of me. Write of me. Give me a little Power, and I will help you to Remember yours.

And then I want you to return here, and I want you to punish Puck. This may be a beautiful darkness, but it is a darkness nonetheless, and it is powerful. It is unbalancing my world. Kill it, and let the Sunshine create new shadows in this forest. Let the moon reveal new romantic evils, pleasurable pains and heartrending gains. Let this world create its own villains, heroes, births, deaths and conflicts under the harsh honesty of our ever-present moon.

For that, I would love you.

submitted by /u/Komposition_Kenny [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2JOIPBT