“We shouldn’t.” She said, standing at the altar, hand in hand with a man she shouldn’t have been with at all.
“You’re breaking my heart,” He shot her a grin, and she tried to return it. Unconvincingly.
“It’s not a good idea,” she whispered. Everything could go wrong.
He shrugged. “It’s the only way we can get to the other side.” He paused expectantly. Waiting. Right. The vows. Magic coursed between them as the words left her lips, and his eyes shone as he squeezed her hands in return. After a brief moment, it was silent.
Miguel, I wove “vows” and “dreaming” into one of my older poems—grateful for you and the time you spend pushing us to write. It’s Valentine’s week—let’s celebrate!
He was the only one travelling along the desert. The wind brought the dust, swirling up in the air. A while ago, the city’s ruins were still there, unburied. Now, everything has disappeared underneath the sand.
The sun kept his solar panel running, and his battery could keep him up.
He’d been looking for a human contact for decades.
His human creators had embedded three vows in his memory, well preserved even when his premium-grade robot casing had deteriorated so much.
Felt like flipping the script and going a tad dark. Fun fact - Microsoft Word counts a hyphen as a word. Go figure.
Listen, I don’t make vows to the fine American people, or anyone else, because what happened last time I promised. My hot date’s dad wanted me to bring her home by night, and my car was fast, but it rained all that weekend, and if her dad hadn’t rushed me, I wouldn’t have fishtailed. At the funeral, which my dad paid for, her dad asked what I’d learned. I learned to be careful - I stopped saying things in very bad taste. For example, I could’ve told him to adopt, and he still can, so really, he’s selfish.
“to love and cherish till death do us part” she said with confidence.
“Let's hope this is third time lucky,” her friends said.
First husband had fallen in the shower after twelve years of marriage. Cracked his head. Dead before the ambulance arrived.
Second husband was found in the swimming pool face down after seven years of marriage. Heart attack the coroner said.
After a respectable period of mourning she agreed to number three. On their honeymoon she forgot to tell the waiting staff he was allergic to peanuts. His throat constricted as he finished the Thai curry.
When he took her hand, like someone gently picking a rose, the vow was sealed.
A priest was waiting patiently at the altar. That day, John gently took his fiancée Maria's hand and led her to his bed. He undressed her. He kissed her body slowly and tenderly, going through all her labyrinths with his moist lips. Maria breathed slowly, with her eyes closed, totally surrendered to her lover.
On the other side of the river, Peter and Joanna jumped into the eternal water.
The vows of Love and Death unite lovers forever, repeatedly fulfilling the destinies sealed by time.
What had they done to the traditional marriage vows? To have and to hold, from this day forward, till death do us part? I'm not even sure we said, "I do." The judge was a grim-faced woman, clearly bored by what she did all day. The ceremony was over quickly, and another couple took our place. Not exactly a romantic elopement.
I felt shaky and strange. A great change had taken place, but in the most anticlimactic way.
My new husband said, "Let's go."
We left City Hall behind us with relief, and walked hand in hand into the sunlight.
Ravens circled overhead. Wolves had been making cautious forays out of the forest all night. Marcus stood alone, covered in gore, surrounded by corpses. Waiting. He should be dead by now. He should be in Hell. In the presence of the Nine Foreign Gods he'd made the Devotio: offering himself, along with the enemy host, to the infernal powers in exchange for victory.
Yet here he stood, watching the eastern glow creep over the horizon, thinking of the promises he'd made to Aurelia before leaving on campaign that spring. Perhaps those had proven to be the stronger vows.
“I have to make new vows after 10 years of living together?”
“The general idea is when you get married you say vows.” she paused. “What vows did you make 10 years ago?”
He gave her a gigantic smile. “I vowed that I would treat you with respect. That I would give our relationship everything I had to give. That I would listen and consider your thoughts and feelings and not take you for granted. That I would encourage you and support you and do everything I could to make you happy.”
Michael clutched his sword as he stood in the simple doorframe, looking out to what lay beyond. The weight was nothing to him, the grip molded to his hand in a way that seemed it had always been a part of him. It was the coming battle that made his arm heavy, what made him pause.
“He would beg you not to go.” The voice behind Michael said what he already knew and he merely nodded. “He’s your brother.”
Bowing his head, Michael let silent tears fall as he stepped outside.
They look like dust motes caught in the sun, splinters of ice in freezing fog. They are the particles in car exhaust that irritate throat and lungs, the fine ash from the fire. They are the sediment in the bottom of a bottle of old wine, that leaves the last glass murky, they are the sand and grit that sting the eyes in a summer storm, the tiny whining insects attracted to the light.
They fill the air we breathe, make us sneeze, cough, our eyes water, the eternal vows, the promises made, to love or hate. Forever.
100mg of Vows
“We shouldn’t.” She said, standing at the altar, hand in hand with a man she shouldn’t have been with at all.
“You’re breaking my heart,” He shot her a grin, and she tried to return it. Unconvincingly.
“It’s not a good idea,” she whispered. Everything could go wrong.
He shrugged. “It’s the only way we can get to the other side.” He paused expectantly. Waiting. Right. The vows. Magic coursed between them as the words left her lips, and his eyes shone as he squeezed her hands in return. After a brief moment, it was silent.
“What have you done?”
Miguel, I wove “vows” and “dreaming” into one of my older poems—grateful for you and the time you spend pushing us to write. It’s Valentine’s week—let’s celebrate!
———
The Bold One
She crossed my line of sight like a dream—
all dark silk and dangerous grace,
while paper hearts adorned the walls
(as if February needed more excuses
for what I saw in her eyes).
.
When she extended her hand,
the bracelet at her wrist caught light
like the Stoli in my glass,
and oh, the fire in those eyes—
breaking vows I never made.
.
They don't make them like this anymore:
fearless girls who know what they want,
who cross rooms in stiletto heels
to ask white-haired women to dance,
trailing notes of amber and dark oud.
.
I should know better by now.
Should sip my martini slowly,
watch her find someone her own age—
but her hand is warm against mine,
and I've always loved playing with fire.
.
She leads me to the floor
as if she owns it, owns me,
my white hair a halo
in the crystal-scattered light,
while Saint Valentine looks away.
.
I let my fingers rest at her waist,
feel youth pulse beneath silk,
catch the whisper of her perfume—
rich and musky as her intentions,
as she dreams across decades without fear.
.
The band knows what they're doing,
sliding into something slow and blue,
and when I pull her closer
(for propriety's sake, of course),
I feel her breath catch, delicious.
.
Tomorrow I might make new vows,
might add this to my list of beautiful mistakes—
but tonight, I'll let her lead me upstairs,
let her show me what that fire in her eyes
promises to burn.
.
And when she next dreams, I will be the one
she tastes on her lips like chilled Stoli,
the white-haired woman who taught her how
February nights should feel—
when properly handled.
Well, I don't understand this. I wrote this yesterday and swear I put it up, and yet, maybe I... didn't? Anyway, here it is.
“I swear, Jimmy, by all that’s holy and sacred, I’m gonna make you pay for this.”
“Pay for what? I didn’t do anything. What? Are you gonna go all Edmund Dantes on me, or something?”
“Who the Hell is that? Am I supposed to know him?”
“You got time, read a book.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Are you trying to tell me I’m stupid, or something?”
“I don’t have to. You pretty much prove it anytime you open your mouth.”
“Why? ‘Cause I don’t read as much as you?”
“What else you gonna do? You’re the one in jail.”
@Jeannine keeps saying the comment section here is haunted so it probably is haha.
I also keep telling you that I can hear ghosts, so I ought to know. 👻
Microdosing Fiction - 100mg of Vows
===
He was the only one travelling along the desert. The wind brought the dust, swirling up in the air. A while ago, the city’s ruins were still there, unburied. Now, everything has disappeared underneath the sand.
The sun kept his solar panel running, and his battery could keep him up.
He’d been looking for a human contact for decades.
His human creators had embedded three vows in his memory, well preserved even when his premium-grade robot casing had deteriorated so much.
Do not harm the humans.
Do not self-destruct.
Only self-destruct with the human’s approval.
Approval is his last hurdle.
Just saw this -- really like it!
Thank you!
Poor robot...
The robot is losing it.
Jeez Miguel, this put a smile to my face. Cheeky ain't he? I love it. You have a knack for this!
Felt like flipping the script and going a tad dark. Fun fact - Microsoft Word counts a hyphen as a word. Go figure.
Listen, I don’t make vows to the fine American people, or anyone else, because what happened last time I promised. My hot date’s dad wanted me to bring her home by night, and my car was fast, but it rained all that weekend, and if her dad hadn’t rushed me, I wouldn’t have fishtailed. At the funeral, which my dad paid for, her dad asked what I’d learned. I learned to be careful - I stopped saying things in very bad taste. For example, I could’ve told him to adopt, and he still can, so really, he’s selfish.
No more questions.
Yeah, that’s one of the reasons why I’m not very strict about the word counts, each processor counts it differently 😅
Miguel, I'm blaming your story for sending me off in this macabre direction.
======================================================
Vows - 100mg
“to love and cherish till death do us part” she said with confidence.
“Let's hope this is third time lucky,” her friends said.
First husband had fallen in the shower after twelve years of marriage. Cracked his head. Dead before the ambulance arrived.
Second husband was found in the swimming pool face down after seven years of marriage. Heart attack the coroner said.
After a respectable period of mourning she agreed to number three. On their honeymoon she forgot to tell the waiting staff he was allergic to peanuts. His throat constricted as he finished the Thai curry.
😈
My 100 mg of Vows
_______________________
When he took her hand, like someone gently picking a rose, the vow was sealed.
A priest was waiting patiently at the altar. That day, John gently took his fiancée Maria's hand and led her to his bed. He undressed her. He kissed her body slowly and tenderly, going through all her labyrinths with his moist lips. Maria breathed slowly, with her eyes closed, totally surrendered to her lover.
On the other side of the river, Peter and Joanna jumped into the eternal water.
The vows of Love and Death unite lovers forever, repeatedly fulfilling the destinies sealed by time.
I love that one, Miguel! Till death do us join.
👻❤️
VOWS (100)
What had they done to the traditional marriage vows? To have and to hold, from this day forward, till death do us part? I'm not even sure we said, "I do." The judge was a grim-faced woman, clearly bored by what she did all day. The ceremony was over quickly, and another couple took our place. Not exactly a romantic elopement.
I felt shaky and strange. A great change had taken place, but in the most anticlimactic way.
My new husband said, "Let's go."
We left City Hall behind us with relief, and walked hand in hand into the sunlight.
Microdosing Fiction
Vows - 100 words
Ravens circled overhead. Wolves had been making cautious forays out of the forest all night. Marcus stood alone, covered in gore, surrounded by corpses. Waiting. He should be dead by now. He should be in Hell. In the presence of the Nine Foreign Gods he'd made the Devotio: offering himself, along with the enemy host, to the infernal powers in exchange for victory.
Yet here he stood, watching the eastern glow creep over the horizon, thinking of the promises he'd made to Aurelia before leaving on campaign that spring. Perhaps those had proven to be the stronger vows.
“I have to make new vows after 10 years of living together?”
“The general idea is when you get married you say vows.” she paused. “What vows did you make 10 years ago?”
He gave her a gigantic smile. “I vowed that I would treat you with respect. That I would give our relationship everything I had to give. That I would listen and consider your thoughts and feelings and not take you for granted. That I would encourage you and support you and do everything I could to make you happy.”
“I think you’ve got it covered,” she smiled.
I challenge myself with this one and used less than 50….
A paper license is the governments requirements.
Our vows swore to keep each other’s feet warm…
To love without ending…
To be each other’s better half.
You promised me everything,
I echoed the sentiments…
We gave each other our hearts and dreams
No government can tear that apart.
Michael clutched his sword as he stood in the simple doorframe, looking out to what lay beyond. The weight was nothing to him, the grip molded to his hand in a way that seemed it had always been a part of him. It was the coming battle that made his arm heavy, what made him pause.
“He would beg you not to go.” The voice behind Michael said what he already knew and he merely nodded. “He’s your brother.”
Bowing his head, Michael let silent tears fall as he stepped outside.
“I can’t forsake my vow. Not even for him.”
Into the hereafter…
Great story, Miguel!
Thanks Zivah!
Vows
They look like dust motes caught in the sun, splinters of ice in freezing fog. They are the particles in car exhaust that irritate throat and lungs, the fine ash from the fire. They are the sediment in the bottom of a bottle of old wine, that leaves the last glass murky, they are the sand and grit that sting the eyes in a summer storm, the tiny whining insects attracted to the light.
They fill the air we breathe, make us sneeze, cough, our eyes water, the eternal vows, the promises made, to love or hate. Forever.