I'm linking up for the first prompt of 2011 over at The Red Dress Club :
Write a short piece - fiction, non-fiction, poetry, whatevs - in which each sentence starts with the next letter of the alphabet, starting with "A." So your finished product will consist of 26 sentences. (I am tweaking this a bit and making mine 26 lines, so technically just over 26 sentences.)
A dream in which you finally start telling me the truth. Your truth.
Bringing friends with you on a spontaneous trip to Vegas, you appeared suddenly.
Careening your convertible up the crowded street, dirty but drivable.
"Don't come here," I plead, backing away. "I can't. Not again." Willing you away.
Ever the charmer, you hop out and grab my hand, yanking me this way and that. Your way.
"Forget it all and come with us," you said after we sat down to have drinks.
Ghosts floated all around me, warning, wafting, swirling--gentle reminders.
Hovering nearby, my friend Heather made eyes at me, but didn't utter a sound.
I had to borrow money from her to pay for our stuff since you were "saving for Vegas." Cheapskate.
Just like always, you made me doubt myself, your sincerity, your intentions.
"Kid, you know I love you. Just get in the damn car," you said as you looked over at your friends.
Lunging at you with all my frustration in my fist. I miss. I try again.
Maniacal laughter, mirrors in a fun house: everything's misshapen, distorted. Bubbles and blur.
No, no--spinning round and round, my skirt billowing out like a bell. I want off this ride.
Out of nowhere you jump up and grab me.
Pushing and pulling ensue, a tug of war over the past and future.
Questioning myself is never so prevalent as when I'm with you.
Running around doing this same old dance drains me.
Sometimes I get so tired of carrying this burden. Your burden.
Too many people telling me what to do, like you.
Until I remember that this is just a dream.
Vanquished, vindicated me. I hold power over you!
Wielding my magic wand, I wave it until you get smaller and smaller.
Xanax won't be necessary anymore, you are so tiny I tower over you.
You can't haunt or taunt me anymore.
Zen-like is how I feel when I wake.