Category: Creative Writing

Talent Doesn’t Make the Meal Good

It’s only been a month, and I can’t keep putting this off. What if she finds out I can’t cook? She won’t see me any differently, would she?

Thoughts swirl in my head as I twist the doorknob to her already unlocked apartment. I take a deep breath as I step in. She meets me at the door. Her brunette curls roll off her shoulders as she wraps a gentle hand behind my neck and pulls me in for a kiss. Fireworks. There’s never not fireworks. 

“I can’t cook,” I blurt, flustered again by her confidence. She doubles over, laughing, a hand tightly squeezing my arm. 

Was that that funny, I think to myself.

“Oh god, neither can I!”

If one could see us as she boils rice while I attempt to chop baby carrots and sear the ground beef, you would think you were looking at two poor, hopeless college partners. But if one could see my eyes as I smile at her every success and mistake, you would think you saw stars.

Death and the Shades of Autumn

A single leaf drifts sporadically in the wind as it falls from the sanctuary of its tree. The leaf, an orange so vibrant it appeared as if the sun kissed its surface. Amidst the chaos, it provides temporary peace. In that very moment, I would give anything to be that leaf, aimlessly wandering the wind, being guided by the twin sisters of life: Fate and Chance.

The leaf sways towards me and brushes my ear gently. Ironic. To have such an angelic, soft touch while I wreak havoc and pain. The natural gesture almost plants a seed of doubt in what I previously thought to be my steadfast will. Am I in the right? Will the ends ever justify the means? Behind the vale of bravery and confidence lurks the answer, but to acknowledge that simple truth would be fatal. 

A droplet of red splashes against the corner of my eye. If it’s my own or another’s, I’ll never know. A second splash paints the surrounding brush an even deeper shade. A circle of crimson surrounds me. Scarlet life and death surround me. They begin to blend, as they always do. Life and Death. Destined to fight forever, but to never acknowledge their similarities. Without each other, they would mean nothing. Death without life is impossible, and life without death is insignificant. Both infinitely meaningful, yet meaningless alone, constantly fighting for the upper hand in an endless struggle. 

There are times, like this very instant, where one gains the upper hand. Where life triumphs death. The light removes every shadow. Brightness prevails. But as always, success is fleeting. I lurch. White hot pain flares, then immediately fizzles. Adrenaline. My gaze drifts down to my abdomen. Crimson. Scarlet. Orchid Pink. My vision fades. The light begins to dim. The colors around me lose their color as I do the same. 

Life’s triumph has ended. Death is the victor.