Action Figures and Trinkets

So I know it's been forever since I've posted anything. I would blame my English 101 course. It's been using up all of my spare writing time.

133 words. 

Action Figures and Trinkets

He dumped the contents of the box, eyeing the oddities. They were mementos from years past; things he used to hold dear, things he used to keep near. But here they were, haphazardly thrown into a box. His girlfriend noticed the items, picking up the action figures and trinkets.

            “Whose are these?” She turned an item over in her hand, trying to figure out the purpose. Perusing them, he frowned and kept quiet, the memories flooding his mind with each piece. “Babe?”

            “Hmm?”

            “Who did these belong to? You?” She couldn’t see the sentimental value to these treasures as she dropped them back into the box. Glancing at her, he continued to observe for several moments. Catching sight of his reflection in an old mirror, he hesitated.

            “Just somebody I used to know.”

Lucid

Ask and ye shall receive? I was complaining on Tumblr about how I hadn't written much, and then this happens a few hours later. What? 

118 words.

Lucid

            Few visitors came to his room. Every so often he heard the nurse wander in and she’d ask him a question or two. He’d make a non-committal noise, his eyes focused elsewhere despite his current position facing out the window. There wasn’t anything familiar about this view. Normally he’d see high rises; other businessmen lurking on the streets below; the taxis bustling by with their fares.

            On lucid days he’d just gaze at the passing cars of the suburb, wondering what his life had become. Shifting barely in his wheelchair, he blinked back tears.

            “Mr. Wilson, is something wrong?” The nurse was checking his pulse and giving him a once over as her training dictated.

            “Everything,” he whispered.

Never Ask

Whoa, first story update of 2012.

Never Ask

            It was quiet in the apartment; something that was unusual for a Saturday afternoon. Normally he’d hear music blaring through the speakers, and find his boyfriend vacuuming or working on some other chore that he’d saved for the weekend to do together. The chores weren’t going to be finished, and the music was going to remain off.

            Sitting heavily on the couch, he stared at the fireplace. In the back of his mind he knew he needed to change out of his suit so it wouldn’t wrinkle, but he couldn’t convince himself to do it. He tugged at the black tie, feeling it ease its hold on his neck. Striding to the kitchen, he noticed the plethora of casserole dishes and other items people left in condolence. Bypassing all the food, he snagged a bottle from the freezer and poured a shot. Downing it, he felt the burn in the back of his throat before he went for another.

            Things needed to be done; he couldn’t let life pass by. But something was stopping him as he thought of his partner and their chores. Wiping his damp eyes, he rubbed his face. They had never discussed the coupons. He had no idea where they were, and now he could never ask.