W is For Writing

          Three silent figures moved slowly down the street in unison.   One was a middle-aged man, tall and gaunt with a threadbare black overcoat.   He was carrying two large suitcases – one under each arm.   Another was a squat, plump woman in an orchid cape.   She had her wiry gray hair arranged into a tidy bun.   She had a small valise in one hand and held the hand of a medium-sized girl in the other.   The girl had chestnut-colored curls pinned together at the nape of her neck.   She wore a smart navy overcoat and black leather boots with her traveling dress.   She also wore a frown.

You can go through life asleep sometimes, blissfully unconscious of reality.

Harriet sat quietly on the dock, dangling her toes in the cool, murky water.

Drew was a contradiction of a man. On the outside, he was all darkness and leather machismo.

This story was written for an NPR 3 minute story contest. The idea was to write a story that could be read on air in 3 minutes or less. It was never submitted.

This story was written for submission to an anthology of stories that all had to be written based on the line "No Visitors Beyond This Point". It was not selected for inclusion.

I The heavy rain of the previous week had softened the earth beside the road considerably.

pull drag kick scream freeze

if i could wave a wand

I want to be like a reptile

We are told –

The curve of your face calls 

Forever you have been the external extension of my heart

It’s hard to imagine something you have never experienced as being something tangible, real

She’s like a heat-seeking missile

Harried fretful days

Throw away all doubt

The dance (tentative at first)

When I was small, you guided me through the woods

notes words wrap around me

no words to tell

days pass into past we can never get them back

the emptiness i don't feel fills me up

Into my head Under my skin

you creep into my veins fool me with your wanton ways

VERSE 1 i speak to you but you don't listen

an old woman sits alone

all my worldly possessions

High above rooftops and silent fields,

all those nights spent gazing at the stars

elation is the cruelest betrayal i've known

games           you play

i am

goddess-like i sit

subtle seduction

the long strong curves of his fingers

the rise of your hips

copious flesh mounds

darkness pervades the ground, cloaked with a saturnine pall

your lips, your eyes

burn me

the haze that hangs over the summer city begins to collect

the tangerine sun

little girl, trapped inside a tight tank dress,

i can see my reflection

The sons cry without abashment

what child was she