The BIG sneeze
The audacity of health and humanity
Ahhhh eee achoo! An unexpected spirtz of spatter, mist and dew.
Watery eyes, flushed cheeks; a quintessential squint, a hold that thought squirm orchestrate an olfactory breakthrough.
The pain in your chest shoots sharp between scapulas from the fall and the rise.
Society has confused you with it’s scientific trickery and jovial earthling lies.
Gesundheit, from six feet- God bless you adds another two; quarantine for ten days and while you’re at it, here’s a tissue.
About the Creator
Anjelina Anjel
I’m that woman who looks at life through the lens of a kaleidoscopic- something euphoric is always underway when you allow the universe to guide you as it molds you into a magnificent sphere of possibilities. Live through the spectrum❤️
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More stories from Anjelina Anjel and writers in Poets and other communities.
An Albino Named Gus
The Jane Adam’s housing project bustled with children at play. I was one of those children who stayed out until the fireflies joined the party. I’d run off through the concrete animal court-with oversized cement figures of elephants, hippos and tigers smiling nonchalantly as we played tag; running and hiding behind them. Their paint was chipped and discolored from the wineO’s putting their cigarette butt’s out on them. We didn’t care tho. We would giggle and pick at stale old wads of gum stuck to their noses or hindsides. Those were the good ole days. I can still taste the flavor of mint and malt liquor. We’d put our lives in danger spinning on rusted metal merry-go-rounds that I’m certain had several screws loose and jagged sharp edges that would require a tetanus and isolation for a month if we got so much as a skin tear. Any time it rained, it flooded. The concrete jungle looked like a scene out of an end of the world movie. Smog from the gutters and back yard barbecues would choke a horse; a real horse tho, not the one with the painted on smile with “ Ricky loves Donna” sharpied across it’s top molars. I loved when it rained. I’d dress my little brother in his rain coat and boots; grab a paper bag my dad had lying on the kitchen table from his can of Pepsi and fill it with Cheerios and raisins and we’d be off. Gone.
By Anjelina Anjel3 years ago in Wander
The Light Turns
It's Tuesday 7:13 a.m. A cold and clear November morning awaits Ray on his morning commute. Ray rubs his hands together in the front seat of his Subaru. He turns the air temperature up, but keeps the air on low until the air warms up. He looks at the backup camera screen and reverses the Subaru out of his driveway onto Trimble Road.
By John R. Godwin3 days ago in Fiction
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