Today, I had a work event, which started me thinking about the masks that I wear.
Obviously, there’s work me, who watches her words and responses very, very carefully. There’s my blood family mask that reins in so many part of me it may as well be a cage.
There’s club me, who doesn’t care about anything, and wife me, who cares about everything, and girlfriend me, who takes a long time to care at all, and friend me, who cares way too much.
There’s submissive me, and the new babygirl mask I’m trying on. There was the mask of dominance I tried on for a few months that didn’t seem to fit. It’s a mask I understand much better now, but I still don’t know if it fits.
There’s also witch me, and she is the least masked me, but only a few ever see her.
The William had come to port, and Faith crept from the house, taking care not to wake anyone. She hurried on silent, bare feet through the dark town streets. Her cloak shielded her face, but she’d be ruined if anyone saw her out this late.
When my NP (nesting partner) was taking pictures for me, he took this one. I wasn’t sure if I liked it. I wasn’t wearing anything special. I’d thrown on the sweater over a tank top and panties because it was cold outside.
When I went through the pictures, I decided I liked this one.
I’m a fan of makeup. I love traditional, glamour styles… but I also love weird, goth/punk styles. This is my “it’s Frankenstein‘s Birthday” look. Really, it is (Frankenstein is 200 years old this year!)
I’ve been writing a lot of flash fiction (posted on Twitter). I like the challenge of writing prompts, but flash fiction, especially on Twitter, is is an added challenge. How much can I convey in 280 characters – those characters go so fast. Each word suddenly matters.
I’m archiving all my flash pieces on my Flash Fiction page. I don’t know it I’ll make this a regular feature on my blog, or if I am admittedly procrastinating on working on work.
Regardless, here are all of my flash pieces for this week:
I found myself sucked into this story, and actively disappointed when it ended – Not because it was a bad ending, but because I wanted more. I loved hearing Marie’s interior monologue. Marie is realistic in her doubts about the supernatural events, but not so overwhelmed in doubt that it becomes to the focus. I’m looking forward to seeing more of this story.