http://slow.writerscafe.org/tooshea The original writings of author Cindy Marietta en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775979504 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 A short story about a nightmare I had http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tooshea/2912856/ The older man walking the shoreline with his oversized jeans and torn shirt and bandana around his neck waved his metal detector in my direction and said, “I think I have finally found some gold!”I forced a smile and looked away as he continued on his journey for s.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tooshea/1965396/ You notice the habits early on of your partying friends and junkie lovers. Many crush their substances in a similar waya couple hard pounds and many slices and dices. They take their card and line up line after line.Some do a few andsome do many.&n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tooshea/1959422/ p.p1 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px 'American Typewriter'; color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke: #000000}p.p2 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px 'American Typewriter'; color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke: #000000; min-height: 14.0px}span.s1 {font-kerning: n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tooshea/1958508/ I didn’t understand the way I felt.So I bought a plant. A plant whose soilhasn’t seen water in weeks,or more like months andthe more it wilts the more I begin to understand.There is still one leaf growing towardsthe sun but if life isn’t .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tooshea/1779432/ Closed curtains and shut doorsloud music and creaky floors. Smoke risingliquid fallinggetting highertripping down steps. Step 1 3 42 feet is too farfor two feet to travel. Stumble and fumbledance and singparty in the headnot the real thing. Talking but no one is listeningListenin.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tooshea/1704222/ Each time I take a drinkI get pitiful staresand sorry eyes. They think the bottle is my gradual killerbut really it’sthe only thing keeping me alive.  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tooshea/1703513/ I look around at others faces asthey live the lives they should.Not asking questions anddoing as they’re told. They don’t seem sad but they don’t seem happyeither. Rather just stagnant-worrying about things they shouldn’t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tooshea/1703511/ The shoes are uncomfortable on my feet butnot in the placeit's a strange sensation.I don't have some cool stride or sequence of stepsA grand arm swing or any particular mechanism.I just roll the ball down the floor.And some pins are knocked down,but after each turn they are stood upright a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tooshea/1703129/ I felt like I figured out life whenI realized that the ground youstand on is the same ground thatwill kill you if you jump.  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tooshea/1703124/ The leaf turned black againstthe bright colored skyand I wondered how something sovibrant could make something so dull.Perhaps the leaf used the sun toshade its imperfections ormaybe the sky used the leaf to make itself seem a little more radiant.Whatever the cause,I resent the sky for it.&nbsp.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tooshea/1703122/ I thought I was as low as I could possibly beandI was right.But what I didn't realize wasthe worst part is not hitting rock bottom butbeing buried alive.Slow suffocation is far worse thana hard, quick fall to the ground.  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tooshea/1703119/ The way leaves hang down from a treeis a feeling to which I can relate.Growing towards the sun butgravity pulling you back down.And I can tell you how the grass feels after you walk on it,stomped to the ground but lonely enough towish for you to walk all over it again.And when the sun cannot shine b.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tooshea/1703118/ You asked me what it felt like,And you were wrong right off the batyou see becauseyou don't feel anything.It's like the moment you are released from a tight warm hug.One minute you are embraced in a blanket of warm arms and a soft chest and the nextthey let go and you are alone again.Cold air c.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tooshea/1703115/ Dates and names are specific to me http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tooshea/1594488/ I have spent half my life in the lakeAnd yet, I am still afraid each time I get near the water.Not a fear of drowning,more a fear of wanting to drown.Breathing slows,and suddenly you cannot explain in wordshow loud the silence screams.Confusion and delusion mixed with.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tooshea/1501043/ I would be pretty pissed off if I was a spoon.Serving you your soups and cerealsice cream and yogurt with an easy grasp in your hands anda smooth touch on your lips.And yet you have not even the decency to wash me with your own hands.Instead, I am thrown in the dishwasher to be soaked.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tooshea/1498845/ An old friend once told meI reminded him of a wave.I never understood what he meant until I watched them roll past the other day.Appearing to flow freely liberated and unrestrained,yet driven by a force outside itselfoutside this world.Perhaps by the moon.Drifting wherever the wind ma.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tooshea/1498829/ There is something endearing about a broken piano.Whether a faltered keyor each note sounding slightlyout of tune.The beauty in imperfectionconveyed through the resonance of ivory from the tips of your fingers.Knowing each note is unique from any other of its' kindis a liberating impressio.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tooshea/1498448/ What does it mean to be alive?Someone please tell me becausesitting hereday after daystaring at the goddamn wall,numb to the world around me,does not feel like livingas much as it feels likea reallybad dream.One of the dreams you can't wake up from no matter how hard you f*****g try.Do you.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tooshea/1493634/ Something new http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tooshea/1492664/ Follow up from When You Talk to Me http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tooshea/1492060/ Hopefully you catch the pun. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tooshea/1491597/ Growing wild and free,baby sunshinesamongst a blanket of green.Picked and put in a jarfor my mother to seeI never understood her hesitationwhen I told herwith a smile on my face"I picked you some flowers."Day after dayI would paint myself into a tribe I called my ownwith the yellow pigment upon my f.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tooshea/1491114/ A little mindless poem I doodled up tonight http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tooshea/1490688/ I long to be the tip of your cigarette.Either end would be fine by me.The tip that touches your lips,or the end that holds the flame.The one which gives it its purpose,to make you feel a littlebitbetter.Tuck me away in your pocket all day,and take me out when you feel the urge.In times of stres.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tooshea/1489673/ I like to tell myself I don't need anyone,I am happier alone. That there is no problem buying a single ticket for the movies, or asking for a table for one at dinner.There is no feeling of absence coming home to an empty house day after day, knowing there is no one to greet you at the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tooshea/1478205/ I am that girl you see walking down the streetthe one you never really think to meet.I am that girl sitting under the treewith the dreams of forever being lost and free.I am that girl,wearing flip-flops in December,the last time I put on make-upI cannot remember.I am that girl, always in sweaters an.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tooshea/1476749/ There is a spark that ignites inside my soulanytime I meet someone unorthodox.Different than the rest of the "it's nice to meet you"s or "how are you doing"s.The expressions I hear day to day, that somehow became to be emptier than my bank account.Nothing is more exhilarating than when someone asks .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tooshea/1476492/ There is not a time where I feel as if I am alone,or maybe, I feel alone all the time.It is hard to tell.Betrayed by the ordinary routine the others seem to follow,I am not a piece that contributes to their puzzle.Instead, I am the remnant that was misplaced, from the other box on the sh.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tooshea/1475869/ Some thoughts Inspired by "K. Sectando"'s new poem http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tooshea/1422989/ I was 5 years old walking the streets of Cleveland with my family the first time I saw a homeless man.I can't remember my 5th birthday or my 1st grade teachers name but I can remember the day I saw that man sitting on the streets in an oversized trench coat with a hat and scarf covering his face vi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tooshea/1422318/ You leave your hotel room a mess for the maid to clean up because you say, well,"That's not my problem."You watch the waitress working 60 hours a week with a second job as a single mom drop a pile of dishes on the floor, and you look away as if you didn't see it and cut her tip by 5% becau.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tooshea/1422074/