Inspired by File Magazine's A Collection of Unexpected Photography.Pic = Kotryna ula kiliulyte
Fiction
The Impasse
Her: I can't do it anymore. Not here, not like this, not right now, not with him. Not to him.
Him: What is she thinking? Does she know? Is she going to cry again?
Her: Again. I am here again. He will take the towel off and look at me. Look at me with disgust. And I will look at him looking at me with disgust.
Him: She is going to cry again. If I ask her what she's thinking, she will lie, as usual. Why does she have to make me feel like a prick each time? Why doesn't she understand it was a mistake? A stupid mistake?
Her: I am tired now. I've been tired for a long, long while. I can see what he sees in me each time I am naked. I don't match up. I don't excite. I don't seduce. I don't satisfy. I...
Him: I hate it how she stands in the same room and cries... and pretends she is not crying. I can hear her. She is whimpering now. Anytime now the accusations will start. Why can't she see? It was a fucking mistake...
Her: How can I match up? I don't have the breasts. I don't have a shaved p****y. I don't wear fishnets. I don't moan. I am not a pornstar. He wants a pornstar. A glamour doll. A woman who takes everything, takes in everything. How can I match up? Am I to blame for...?
Him: Why was I so fucking stupid? She asked me about my fantasy. Why didn't I see the trap? Why did I open my mouth? Now she only sees what she wants to see... And she cries. She hates me. I don't match up. I don't excite. I don't satisfy. She accuses... Why can't she see?
Her: I am breaking inside. How do I tell him? Here? Now? Not? When?
Him: Why can't she see it was a mistake? Why can't she it was only a fantasy? Why can't she see I love her, the way she is?
Her: I can't do it anymore. Not here, not like this, not right now, not with him. Not to him. How can I tell him I am pregnant with another man's child?
End.
PS: A picture speaks a thousand words; and each word can be interpreted so differently. What do you think is happening in this picture? If you can write a short story -- however short -- to go with what you think is happening in the picture, will happily publish it here with a link to your blog/site.
9 comments:
how come you are able to think how the man is thinking? most of the women would be exactly following the girl's train of thought.
ps: btw i don't think the man will be smart enough to realize that she's crying because he told her fantasy.all he will be thinking will be like "Fuck, what did i say/do this time? Is all this just worth it? God make her stop, please just stop. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Sheesh. Fuck."
will comment what the picture tells me later :D
She:Why everything has to be white ALWAYS?Why cant he like pink bed sheets and towels?
lol. will think MORE later.
hahah. i must think of something..
wow...once again wow...i am addicted...well great to see both the view points and that we should communicate more instead of just assuming wat the other is thinking....we sudnt make the mistake of thinkin for our partner....thanks
Now for wat the picture tells me...well here goes...(not as good as u but...)
She : wow i hope he's good for the money i'm giving him.....all my friends swore he was great
He : now, which routine sud i start wid....the toes...and then go up or...the ears, neck n then go lower....
She : I hope he's carrying rubber
He : choices, choices
She : wow that dress on TV looks good...gotta pick it up at macys the next time round
He : hmmmm havent done the toes in a while i think i sud take it from there...lets see if i still have it in me...
She : Nice dress...did i turn off the gas before coming....aaarrgghhh now now am here for a good time...hope he's worth the money...really nice dress
Reminds me of those 'picture essays' we had in second language Tamil in school!
This is not a comment.
He married me for my breasts.I was happy about it.I was proud.
I let him have fun with it.I was in love with what he did to me.
Every day he would send one of his friends to admire my breasts.Some
loved my legs too.I loved the attention.I loved the touch.I loved what his friends did to me.Then one day came this man.He said he loved me.I asked him which part of me
he loved the best.My breast or my legs.He came closer and whispered in my ears"your heart,
sweetie".I told him to get out and got out of the bed.
I dont have a heart.
I have breasts.
@ Sree: APPLAUD.
Very, very nice. :) And true. i dont have a heart, i have breasts.
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