I'm not sure why but I get a lot of ideas for fiction stories which I seldom write. They just come as bursts of ideas without enough steam for a long form. I try to build onto them and find a beginning, grow the middle and then give them an ending. But, by then the steam has evaporated and the story is mostly gone, or no longer seems important or worth writing.

Today, the old song "Take All of Me" came into my head and later, as I was washing dishes, this story shaped itself. This time I wrote it down, in short form. I'd guess its a horror story, but I'm not sure.

Taking All of Her

So then I chopped off her other foot. Then, when she could no longer stand, clinging to me, leaning on me and unable to leave me now for sure, I no longer wanted her. So I went back to the huge furnace in the industrial plant, and I asked it, "What can I do with her now, when she is no longer beautiful, when I no longer enjoy watching her even?" The furnace said to bring her there and throw her in. Her bones would melt and become part of skyscrapers being built, trucks used to build them and no one would ever blame me.

Written by Laura Brown February, 19, 2025