Saturday's Storyteller: Ice

Ice
by Belinda Roddie

She preferred her whiskey neat, while I drank mine on the rocks. She ate her ahi tuna seared, while I devoured my serving raw. She was a fan of New York style pizza, while I fantasized about Chicago deep dish. And when we kissed each other, my lips were always cold from the ice.

This week's prompt was provided by Arden Roddie.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Today's OneWord: Madman

Here we have the madman, standing at the podium. He screams threats and obscenities, and the meager audience cheers. They wear red hats and stamp their feet and gesture to the wind, taunting the spirits and daring them to change the course of time, to change the course of history, which never, ever ends. The madman is strutting. He's grinning at his prize. In perhaps a year, the world will change - the colors will all dim.
Read more

Today's OneWord: Statues

Why were the statues going white, and why was the rain cascading in sheets? I tried to find solace by the window, but the world outside had become nothing but glass. Blankets of water blurred the semblance of life that I stretched my mind to detect. Near me, my lover was asleep on the divan with wine pooling across her lap. Her curls lay in wet swaths around the warm nape of her neck. The statues would crumble in due time. The deluge was impending. We both would drown.
Read more