Words

      Her voice, low and harsh like a thousand growling hellhounds, cut slowly, “Betty White?” She waited for a response but Death suddenly became deeply interested in the intricacies of his scythe’s wooden handle. She cleared her throat and stepped deliberately in front of Death, “Betty White, I said…Ring any bells?”

    “Ohhh…” she said, blinking slowly, her eyebrows hoisted high by shock. Her mouth opened and closed several times, as she struggled in confusion to find her next sentence.

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   “We made it ourselves!” I offered. The other mice squealed gleefully; a chorus of furry high-fives slapped behind me. 

      The energy of the unknown enveloped everything and time ceased to hold meaning for either of them. In those moments, they existed solely for each other. Phones were forgotten. Obligations ignored. He looked at her, longing to memorize every line, every detail- to take her in, to keep her somehow with him always.

       Long, long ago, somewhere in the Medieval Ages, a woman named Joanna snuck her way into the Catholic clergy. She was a good priest, so good, in fact that she was soon promoted to bishop and then voted to be Pope. 

      Little is known about Joanna today which means we don't know how her ascension happened, which means, there's no one to say that it didn't, maybe, happen like this....

      I open my eyes, not remembering falling asleep. Cocaine? I think, looking at the mountain of white powder in front of me. I reach for a taste- I love a free sample- but my arm is pinned, pinned down by… more cocaine? It’s too much blow. Even for me…but I reach my tongue out anyway- for science.

      From the bushes, we watched surreptitiously as my mother knelt by the lake, illuminated by the eerie blue glow of the water. Slowly, she bent forward, submerging her face, the water turning golden around her.

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     “Would you like to see what she’s seeing?” he asked me. Ever a curious fool, I nodded.

     Soaking my feet in blackberries, I sit staring at the painting on the kitchen wall. All my life, I’ve been mesmerized by it: a woman walking through a park on a rainy night. My family mocked me ceaselessly for gazing at it through every meal…until last week, when I became the most controversial artist in the world.

     "Ok, to be honest, I don't have anything for this box" she said into the ether as she made her website. It was her first website and she had already accidentally deleted it twice that day. 

      She only had 7 pieces of writing she wanted to share but an empty box in the template just seemed hideous. So, she did what anyone would do, wrote some words, any words, had the button below redirect to her friend's website and hoped that no one ever got that far down the page.