March 24: Damage

From @geoffgthomas:

At first glance, the challenge of writing a story in fifty-five words had seemed easy.  Fifty-five words would offer ample scope to develop interesting characters within a pithy well rounded plot. But, as his pencil crossed to the second page it became clear that no amount of editing could save him. The damage was done.    

From @ShayanBKK:

He wakes up every morning with adventure in his heart and soul. Leaping through the air, vaulting over obstacles with ease. Muscles tensed, mind focused on the path, never worrying about the physical and mental damage.

CRASH. He falls but swiftly back to his feet only to do it all over again.

From @bangkokgirlblog:

My friend is everything a friend should be. Caring, a listener, an adviser, a comedian.

The revelation of a careless whisper and I learn my “friend” is not really my friend at all.

Once the genie has been released from the bottle it is rarely re-captured.

To damage trust is to destroy a friendship.

From konfuzed:

my friend received a phone call at work today… its amazing how your whole life can change in the space of a few seconds.  the damage that can be done with a few words.  His agony thinly veiled, his face contorted with grief, his eyes welling with tears. his family has been torn apart… his sister is with god now.

From @2yrsbangkok:

The damage was only slight.  You had to squint and hold it up under the kitchen light to even see it. It was ever so faint.  But it was there - the dollop of barbecue sauce that stubbornly refused to disappear despite obsessive scrubbing. The only truly pretty thing she’d ever owned, ruined.

From @nikkihammett1:

As we arrived by longtail at dawn, the damage could clearly be seen. Beautiful beach bars made of old wood ripped up to make way for the brand new 5 star. A part of Thailand taken away forever. No more fire shows, no more reggae. Concrete paths already being laid amongst the debris. Goodbye Tonsai.

From @PennyKinned:

He traces the scar down her back – long healed now, but still clearly visible. “Don’t,” she says, pushing his hand away. “I don’t like for you to see me like that.” But he is insistent, following the trajectory of the old gash with his fingertips. He likes her damage. It makes him feel at home.