Hot Off the Presses: Textistory

Preface

Have you ever heard of Found Poetry? If not, it is when you take a completely random text such as a short story, pages in a magazine or novel, text messages in your cell phone, etc. and create a poem using only the words and phrases found within that text with small changes for connective tissue, thus creating a completely separate and new piece of writing--a poem.

I want to take this idea and run with it. I want to create Found Stories, which I will label as Textistory. The term is a blended word from texts and history that describes a short story created entirely from text messages we send through our phones. While my first ever textistory will be solely from phone texts, the genre may include any instant/direct messaging.

Now, without any further ado, I give you

Six Weeks

Alexandria just listened to I Think We're Alone Now. No worries. She had a good night's sleep, but not in a calm, controlled type of mood. What were we expecting, really? Still, don't take things so seriously. She is in control of her state of mind and will figure it out; however, they could use a talk. She and Robert.

While together with a friend at dinner, Robert whispers I love it when you talk to me that way...I'm glad you did because life is short, Gorgeous...Do you remember you used to call me that? It makes Alexandria smile and the greenness of her eyes distracts him. That night, unadulterated by electronic devices, their voices become all tangled up, beautiful, and oh so romantic. After a few hours, both have to go but she offers a rain check for another time. So many ways to take that...

On another lovely evening, he realizes how he didn't mind being drawn in to her by lovely compliments. He thinks Be brave. So, like a shamelessly adorable door to door salesperson, he calls in the rain check. She feels fortunate even though it looks like daytime is coming.

Who knows what she told her parents so she could be awake? It takes so little to make Alexandria smile that he knows he should be crossing his fingers he doesn't fall asleep as she laughs and talks softly-- then, she only hears him breathe so she says she is proud of him, loves his writing, and a few goodbyes in sweet tones as not to wake him. Now it's her turn for falling asleep radiant with happiness.

Some time later...

He, proud as a frightened peacock, announces that he is not the marrying kind, but only dates women. History and wishing leverage against her favor. Don't wait around. She realizes the real problem has been all the ambiguity flying about. Rendered speechless, her heart crawls inside itself. Pandora's box. Her first thought is What's wrong with you? Stop. She is enough knowing genuine love can never be madness, except for when we deny or feign it. Remember, it's all about you--a wandering, divine, glimmer girl. You are it.

Exquisite. Pain. Love. Together. On the train to celebrating nothing.

So there won't be any misunderstandings, even if you are sleeping emotionally at the moment, take care and don't underestimate guys.

Epilogue:

As far as I'm concerned, texting is such a brutish way of communication. Smoke signals would be much more witty and ravishing...and nerdy.

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