Stories

A Hairy End

#story

story

A Hairy End is a short story about friendship, cancer and hairy pussies intended to inspire the soul, uplift the spirit and enlighten the way:

 

The two women exploded into an embrace only two hearts that have been broken open could ever set off.

And when eye met eye…

– How are ya, tramp?

– Oh, grand. I’m dying.

– Fuck off, you’re dying… you’re a gas whore, you are.

– I fucking am, for real this time. No “me heart’s shattered, I feel like I’m dying” man crap.

Terror slips down the friend’s throat.

– Coffee?

– Whiskey.

– I love you.

The women enter the Poosie Nansie’s Inn and sit to two Scotchs, neat.

– It’s cunt cancer. Literally, like, no joke – shrieks she.

– Jaysus! Fuck my arse! Seriously Emz? – tears tsunami the woman.

– Ah sure, it’s grand. Didn’t your one Louise Hay have it? Might get her book, see what the story is.

– The story is that life is killing us, Emz.

– Yes, it is, babes. Cheers – toasts Emz.

– Sláinte.

– I’ve never managed to be happy on this god cunting planet anyways. Maybe on another one I will do better.

-Are you dying, like, for sure for sure?

– That’s what they say.

– Who’s they, the custard launcher cunt experts? Fuck them!

– I don’t think I’ll be fucking them, or anyone, or anything, for like, a while… depending on how long death lasts. What an absolute waste of wax cash…

– Jesus Christ, I know, pussy waxing’s gone exorbitant!

– Shockingly so. Daylight robbery, if you ask me. Sixty quid for a Brazilian?! Fuck that, I’m dying feral. Free the pussy!

– Amen to that!

– To death and bushy puss, slut.

– To death and bushy puss, whore. God, I love you so much…

 

~ G. A.
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Bleeding Love

#shortstory

short story

Short story Bleeding Love is spiritual medicine intended to inspire the soul, uplift the spirit and enlighten the way:

 

– Babe!!! You promised you wouldn’t do it again! – she yelled, terrorized – you promised… you promised… – she wept.

– I’m sorry babe – he maundered – I’m sorry… it’s OK…

As he laid on the bathroom floor, the needle still clung onto his bruised arm. She kneeled down beside him, and with her chic clutch tightly tucked under her arm, she grabbed him and pulled him tightly into her body.

Rocking him in her arms, she closed her desperate eyes, only this time her mascara didn’t run because she had no tears left. She had cried them all. She had no words left either. He had made it clear that nothing she said or did would change him.

And so she held his frail body for the last time, for what felt like a minute but clocked two hours. She wanted to feel her soulmate, to infuse her spirit with his scent, to count every little white bird in his black shirt, every cute freckle on his worn face… she wanted to fade into him before she broke her heart.

– Every woman I have ever given my heart to has abandoned me… you’re going to abandon me too, aren’t you? – his tired mouth whispered.

And her heart broke open like a piñata, and out poured what felt like lifetimes worth of deadly wounds. Her chest hurt so bad and she felt so nauseous that she thought she may be having a heart attack.

– I am not going to abandon you babe, I am just leaving you.

– OK… fuck off then… whore – he said, emotionless.

She released him back onto he cold floor and the infinite universe.

Barely able to hold her own body weight, she stumbled around the apartment trying to find a suitcase. She emptied her drawers and swept her side of the wardrobe clean. When she chanced upon the 40’s silk red dress he got her for their first Valentine’s day, she hesitated. She left the dress but took their Bengal kitten Twin Flame and bumbled out of the apartment.

With every step she walked away from him, she felt weaker and weaker. Her knees failed her, her hands shook and her body bent like an old woman’s.

– Bleedin’ love… – she grumbled.

 

~ G. A.
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 Nana Joy

#happiness
spiritual teachings

Nana Joy is a short story about the pursuit of happiness. Intended to inspire the soul, uplift the spirit and enlighten the way, may you enjoy it:

 

– Why is it so hard nana? Why is it so fucking hard to be happy?

– Because of the antonym — nana mumbled as she crocheted a wool magenta hat for her grandaughter.

– What?! — Clare’s head shook in stupefaction.

– The antonym — nana repeated — what is the antonym of happiness, dear?

– Friggin despair?! — Claire couldn´t help herself — I don’t know… unhappiness, sadness, misery… my entire life!

– Oh Clarebear, not with a name like yours — said nana with a quick knowing glance.

Clare slided off the couch and curled up on the worn out Indian silk carpet, right next to nana’s wooden chair.

– Sweet Clariebear, you should never pursue anything that has an antonym, for it will only be a temporary fixture, it won’t last long. Soon, you will fall in the arms of its opposite, and that too won’t last long. You will live a life of highs and lows, peaks and valleys… you will age prematurely. You will get horrible wrinkles you know, hills, gorges and folds even Nivea won´t be able to fix.

– Ew, no-thank-you! So, what are you saying nana? I shouldn’t want to be happy?

– Nope, you shouldn’t. You should just be joyful.

– Isn’t that the same shizzle?

– No, it is not the same… shizzle, my dear. Joy is an immutable emotion. It has no antonym. Joy is a state of being, not doing. Joy is a state of being that depends on no thing and no one. Joy is unalterable, unshakable, unbreakable, infinite, eternal, holy, truth.

– Wow… who said that, Father Tony?

– God no! — nana carried on slowly and lovingly crocheting — an old friend of grandad’s and mine. Joy is a frequency, you see, a vibration you can pull into your body straight from spirit. Spirit resides two feet or so above your head…

– What?! He does?!

– Shush. Clare, spirit is heshe.

– Oh, of course, of course nan. So, joy…

– Yes. Joy, you don’t pursue, you access. The easiest and quickest way to access joy is straight through the meadow of peace and the river of love.

– Right — said Clare trying to make sense of nana’s metaphor.

– It’s not a metaphor, Clariebear. First, you be peace, be peace, be peace… think of someone or something that resonates peace into every cell of your being. Then, you be love, be love, be love… it feels different, doesn’t it? Now, be joyful. Bring your attention to a place about two feet above your head and pull this energy down into the body, all the way down into the feet and back up and around. Joy, joy, joy… joy to the world… — nana started to hum, then sing to herself, then to Clariebear.

– Joy, joy, joy… joy to the world. Joy, joy, joy… joy to the world! — as she sang, Clare’s eyelids softened, her smile broadened into a grin, her beauty exploded like flowers in spring.

 

~ G. A.
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