TWISTED

Life is amazing everyday! When you  have a holiday though, it heightens expectation levels. This year I am glad to say, I spent the most wonderful Thanksgiving Day with some of the best people . Being that everyone who came by to share in the turkey meal, is a writer we gathered together after the meal and we played writing games. New friendships were formed, old friendships were reinforced and all of us in my living room felt not so  alone for those few hours. I love being a writer and having the opportunity to open my home to others is a plus; having that many writers together in my home for such a special day, well this will go down as one of the most memorable Thanksgivings I have ever had! Today’s post comes from that great evening.

He would fuck with her mind, day in and day out. Over the years this wore on her much like a a slow nagging head ache at first, that eventually turns into a blinding migraine. She never knew where she stood with him and that’s how he’d control her;or at least he was under the impression that he was winning in his wicked, manipulative games. Every damn word she spoke, he’d twist. You know that silly childhood game,Twister? Well, he invented the mind twist. He was the master of it. Just when she thought  she was standing on the yellow dots, he’d flip the card board spinner and she’d be fooled once more.

At times she thought she was losing her mind and that’s how he liked it. Then one day after umpteen years of living  with the Twisted Mister, who tried to turn her into a Twisted Sister, she woke right up; and decided to flip the old card board spinner on him.. Oh shit! He was sorely pissed when he caught on. Oh hell, she’d broke his spell and now he was truly lost. She walked away one fresh spring morning with her head held high. Her smile, that radiant smile that Twisted Mister tried to permanently vanish  from her pretty face, was  back on for good. She didn’t have to paint it on anymore-people who saw her could tell she smiled and meant it now. The glimmer in her dark brown eyes had returned too.

She twisted him up all right. Now he stood there tied up in knots like an old, stale sour dough pretzel. He wore on his face a grim expression. He hated her more now than when they first met.

EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2013

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