I exhaled a cloud of smoke as I shivered in the barren gas station parking lot. I couldn’t feel my hands or face even with a mask; I knew my gun was there when I felt it in my pocket. Trepidation festered in the pit of my gut. All I needed was cash - not a life. A green tidal wave tore through me as I dashed for the door. The neon open sign buzzed as I kicked the door in.
Calling 911 as he scrambled down, Grath saw the sinking car, then located the struggling body of a woman.
Grath called, “I’m coming! Hold still!” Reaching Fran, he could tell he couldn’t move her, but only be with her.
Remembering breathing exercises he and his wife had used during childbirth, he sat with Fran. “Breathe with me. We’ll do it together. Inhale… exhale… inhale… exhale…” Eyes locked, breathing through her pain, until finally professional medical help arrived.
Twenty-eight children sat cross-legged on a piano-key rug, each occupying their own note. When new student Chelsea unknowingly claimed Marcus’s cherished key during his bathroom absence, a quiet rebellion brewed. Marcus pleaded, then resorted to theatrics: he held his breath. His face deepened to a worrying purple as Mrs. Crotchett tried in vain to calm him. At last, desperation won. “Chelsea, switch places!” she barked. Order was restored, and Marcus exhaled with victorious relief, his dramatic triumph etched into classroom legend.
Instead I inhaled more. My fingers started to tingle. I felt dizzy.
I hadn't meant to kick John but he was horrid. I don't like him. Mum says to ignore people you don't like but in school they expect you all to be friends.
“Breath out.” She broke with protocol and slapped my back hard.
“I hate you,” I screamed as all the breath rushed out my five year old lungs.
The museum had an upcoming exhibition, and they’re on extra night watch.
She patrolled through the east wing the third time. It’s only 2 am. The world was asleep but their radio line was busy. She arrived at the shallow pool area when her teammates sent warning. The swirly water reflected the moon.
Watching the moon's reflection, she typed on her phone.
She’d asked them to rush over, as the intruder would need to exhale and resurface at some point.
Piercing, happy backseat giggles. Inhale. Exhale. Allow them their childhood, unimpeded by whatever this is. Control it! A sympathetic hand brushes mine. I shift in the passenger seat, away from support and his attempt to understand. My composure is glass. A fragile thing. I can see, understand how unreasonable it is to feel this way at this happy moment, this family moment, but I cannot change a thing. I am wound tight, battling anxiety, wrestling anger over…nothing. Happy giggles pierce.
It was only after the cabin's doors and windows were boarded up that she allowed herself a long exhale of relief. She was safe in here, or as safe as she could be. There was plenty of food in the pantry. At least three weeks worth.
Outside, the porch creaked. It---he was out there. She tried not to picture her husband's ruined face, torn open by the shotgun's blast. No, that was wrong. It wasn't him. It never had been.
He is exhaling, closing eyes to two leather straps darkened by the sweat of those who came before; to the vision of the mother-in-law clasping the shaking hands of the widow on the other side of the glass (always green) - glottal stop - pellet drop, beneath the seat, heart pounding hot tears over the still lip of the justly condemned; the ghosting of the feather-tip trigger-finger . . .
For decades they tried to kill Mateo Zamora. Several times they nearly succeeded but the last try, a Junta backed by two generals, was doomed before it began. The tortures lasted a week. The lucky, executed by death squads.
He was destined to die old, peacefully, still Presidente. Just as his father.
From the balcony he inhaled the scent of Plumerias from the palace garden below. Almost a mile away, after the sniper’s soft exhale, a trigger was gently squeezed.
It’s all in the exhale. That expulsion of air releases tension held in the neck and shoulders as it exits through the nose and the mouth. Gone is the ex-wife. Gone is the overdue mortgage. Gone is that sharp pain in the chest.
Momentary, yes. But the instructions are: Repeat as needed.
If only there was more time. If only another inhale was possible.
The little deer felt her feet splay as she slid across the ice. She pushed up with her hind legs, but before she could get her front legs under her, she went spinning helplessly again. Finally, fatigue overtook her and she put her head down, giving herself over to the elements--or the coyotes.
Dark shadows towered over her wrapping her in rope and sliding her toward land. Scrambling, she found her feet in the snow. Safe at last, she exhaled.
There’s one scuba tank, wetsuit. Randy’s at rock quarry edge. Tosses me a rope to tie around waist to raise me from the depths that disorient perception, disquietude. I dive deep. Thermocline. Yikes! Skeleton gnarly roots! Rope winds down. Bam! Carp sideswipes. Scares crap out of me. 70 feet. Ears ring, eyes spotty. Shake head. Exhale. Up? Remember rope life/death creation act. Must stay below bubbles. No Bends. Reach surface. Exhale.Whew! Randy’s next; experience drowning.
that was really sneaky Miguel - I was expecting it to be dark, but then it was a celebration - well done! good twist!
You never know what trip hides in one of these doses haha
I wish it had been over in an instant. I wish I had died with her.
The rising coldness of water filling the car.
Her beautiful face, slumped on her broken neck.
Broken Promises.
Too many memories to capture.
The dash light will outlive me, green beneath water.
The seatbelt burning my neck.
Friends I will never see again.
My mother's tears.
The calm after the fear.
Spinach in my teeth.
The things left unsaid.
Let it be over.
Exhale.
PROMPT: EXHALE
THE BODYBUILDERS
They met at the gym, in the 1980s, when they were both competitive bodybuilders.
He loved the skilful way she regulated her inhales and exhales, to maximise her oxygen circulation.
And years later, he loved them even more, when those same controlled breaths kept him alive until the ambulance arrived… 😎
“Exhale”
I exhaled a cloud of smoke as I shivered in the barren gas station parking lot. I couldn’t feel my hands or face even with a mask; I knew my gun was there when I felt it in my pocket. Trepidation festered in the pit of my gut. All I needed was cash - not a life. A green tidal wave tore through me as I dashed for the door. The neon open sign buzzed as I kicked the door in.
Calling 911 as he scrambled down, Grath saw the sinking car, then located the struggling body of a woman.
Grath called, “I’m coming! Hold still!” Reaching Fran, he could tell he couldn’t move her, but only be with her.
Remembering breathing exercises he and his wife had used during childbirth, he sat with Fran. “Breathe with me. We’ll do it together. Inhale… exhale… inhale… exhale…” Eyes locked, breathing through her pain, until finally professional medical help arrived.
Rose Alice White
January 23, 2025
Twenty-eight children sat cross-legged on a piano-key rug, each occupying their own note. When new student Chelsea unknowingly claimed Marcus’s cherished key during his bathroom absence, a quiet rebellion brewed. Marcus pleaded, then resorted to theatrics: he held his breath. His face deepened to a worrying purple as Mrs. Crotchett tried in vain to calm him. At last, desperation won. “Chelsea, switch places!” she barked. Order was restored, and Marcus exhaled with victorious relief, his dramatic triumph etched into classroom legend.
School Friends? [Exhale 80mg]
Exhale!” the teacher screamed in panic.
Instead I inhaled more. My fingers started to tingle. I felt dizzy.
I hadn't meant to kick John but he was horrid. I don't like him. Mum says to ignore people you don't like but in school they expect you all to be friends.
“Breath out.” She broke with protocol and slapped my back hard.
“I hate you,” I screamed as all the breath rushed out my five year old lungs.
The museum had an upcoming exhibition, and they’re on extra night watch.
She patrolled through the east wing the third time. It’s only 2 am. The world was asleep but their radio line was busy. She arrived at the shallow pool area when her teammates sent warning. The swirly water reflected the moon.
Watching the moon's reflection, she typed on her phone.
She’d asked them to rush over, as the intruder would need to exhale and resurface at some point.
Exhale - 80 words
His eyes, still screwed shut, feel as if they will never open again.
His heart has given up beating.
His hands balled into fists, pressing hard into his belly.
Teeth clamping on teeth, jaws send warning pains to his brain.
Pressure intensifies, bursting in his chest.
In his ears, a deafening, rushing, pounding roar.
The scream forms deep inside him, demanding release.
There is no escape route for it – or him.
Softly, his therapist says, “Breathe, Matthew. It’s not optional.”
Exhale - 80 mg
Piercing, happy backseat giggles. Inhale. Exhale. Allow them their childhood, unimpeded by whatever this is. Control it! A sympathetic hand brushes mine. I shift in the passenger seat, away from support and his attempt to understand. My composure is glass. A fragile thing. I can see, understand how unreasonable it is to feel this way at this happy moment, this family moment, but I cannot change a thing. I am wound tight, battling anxiety, wrestling anger over…nothing. Happy giggles pierce.
It was only after the cabin's doors and windows were boarded up that she allowed herself a long exhale of relief. She was safe in here, or as safe as she could be. There was plenty of food in the pantry. At least three weeks worth.
Outside, the porch creaked. It---he was out there. She tried not to picture her husband's ruined face, torn open by the shotgun's blast. No, that was wrong. It wasn't him. It never had been.
He is exhaling, closing eyes to two leather straps darkened by the sweat of those who came before; to the vision of the mother-in-law clasping the shaking hands of the widow on the other side of the glass (always green) - glottal stop - pellet drop, beneath the seat, heart pounding hot tears over the still lip of the justly condemned; the ghosting of the feather-tip trigger-finger . . .
from the gutter
of his own lungs, wailing
with terminal intent:
DON’T FORGET TO BREATHE!
Exhale / 80 Words
For decades they tried to kill Mateo Zamora. Several times they nearly succeeded but the last try, a Junta backed by two generals, was doomed before it began. The tortures lasted a week. The lucky, executed by death squads.
He was destined to die old, peacefully, still Presidente. Just as his father.
From the balcony he inhaled the scent of Plumerias from the palace garden below. Almost a mile away, after the sniper’s soft exhale, a trigger was gently squeezed.
It’s all in the exhale. That expulsion of air releases tension held in the neck and shoulders as it exits through the nose and the mouth. Gone is the ex-wife. Gone is the overdue mortgage. Gone is that sharp pain in the chest.
Momentary, yes. But the instructions are: Repeat as needed.
If only there was more time. If only another inhale was possible.
The little deer felt her feet splay as she slid across the ice. She pushed up with her hind legs, but before she could get her front legs under her, she went spinning helplessly again. Finally, fatigue overtook her and she put her head down, giving herself over to the elements--or the coyotes.
Dark shadows towered over her wrapping her in rope and sliding her toward land. Scrambling, she found her feet in the snow. Safe at last, she exhaled.
80 exhale.
There’s one scuba tank, wetsuit. Randy’s at rock quarry edge. Tosses me a rope to tie around waist to raise me from the depths that disorient perception, disquietude. I dive deep. Thermocline. Yikes! Skeleton gnarly roots! Rope winds down. Bam! Carp sideswipes. Scares crap out of me. 70 feet. Ears ring, eyes spotty. Shake head. Exhale. Up? Remember rope life/death creation act. Must stay below bubbles. No Bends. Reach surface. Exhale.Whew! Randy’s next; experience drowning.
SO much action! Nice!
Coming up for air.
When the style and the content work together like this, magic happens - love this one.
Yes. One big gold fish story deep in Pennsylvania rock quarry.