Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts

Friday, April 10, 2020

Wow, what was this in my drafts?

i lied, i lied, a thousand times i lied. i don't know who this story is about. i don't know if it's an 'i,' 'you,' 'he,' or 'she' story. i'll probably pick three and rotate them. because when you think about it, doesn't it happen to us all? i was found dead on the road. i hear i was contorted and bloody, only the blood wasn't my own, and i died simply because i was afraid. i always thought that was so ironic- i was scared to death. and every time she's walking down the street, the girl who might've been me, the girl whose blood i was found in though she's also dead, i cringe. because she hears people crowing about amusement parks and how the upside-down roller coaster scared them to death, and she thinks of me. she's dead, but she still thinks of me. somehow, i feel loved. he said he was a policeman. really, he was a rapist. he, you, i. it doesn't matter, everyone is a rapist. everyone thinks they want sex, but nobody does. it's too personal. it's not forever like you might think it is. because eventually, you wind up dead. eventually, you or i, we're found by some policeman named officer leon scurrow. you, growing up in america or britain or in a treetop, you assume he is african-american. see, leon's parents, your parents or my parents, his parents had a sense of humour. leon is an albino. so that goes to show just how much you (or i or she) knows. really, no one knows anything. i don't like the alphabet. i don't like capital letters. i don't like you, or maybe i don't like him or her or me. capital letters, they're just like us, and i don't like anyone. capital letters are egocentric and believe they (or we) deserve attention. we (or they) scream out, please just notice me, i'm important, i swear i am. capital letters have high-paying jobs that slowly kill them, lawyers to lose their souls, or doctors to imagine they can help someone. and no one, not even a capital letter, can live if they truly think they are nothing. i, or you, or he or she, we all are lying in the middle of dirt roads, dead and covered in some lover's blood. she is walking down the street, saying oh God, oh God, oh God like she means it, and i am just absolutely scared to death.

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Slice Of Life: A Daily Story

Day 12
Tuesday, July 3rd
based on the latest adventures of McCoy, my mother-in-law's new puppy.


That Darn Dog

Well, he did it again. That darn dog. Returned home after being away for only four hours and he’s gone an’ chewed up the bottom of the couch, done pulled out near all the stuffin’ as well. That darn dog. So I took him by the neck and drug him to the couch and paddled his b’hind but good and then tossed him on outside. That darn dog. Stuffed the white billowy stuffin’ right on back inside the dern ole’  couch and then I commenced sewin’ on it when I heard the gosh awfullest yowlin’ comin’ from the back yard. That darn dog.
He weren’t neven supposed ta be my dog in the first place. He was fine an’ happy livin’ over there Texas way. When I first got the phone call that my son’s dog done gone an’ had a litter of pups I was a listenin’ and talkin’ with joy over their good will. Then he asked would I want one? Well heck no, I done got mah Teddy here and them two cats. What would I want with’n another pup? But then my daughter what lives up the road from me called me up an’ said ‘Ma, Riley sure would like ta have a pup. Course Matt won’t hear nothin’ of us havin’ a dog. Can you bring one o’them pups back wit’ ya and keep him at yer house ‘til we gets Matt talked into havin’ him?’ Well I’ma sucker fer mah gran’children. I called mah son over there in Texas and told him to pick out a pup fer me and I’d fly over there an’ get him when I come ta visit my newest great-gran’babe. I was assured that this here pup would stay small and while he was a feisty thing he was workin’ hard on his trainin’. I shoulda listened to my other daughter-in-law what told me ‘No, ma, ya don’ need a nother dog!’ As I said, I’ma sucker fer mah gran’children.
So I get this here pup home; he’s little as can be, an’ pretty calm little thing right at first. Didn’ do much other than sleep and eat and sleep and pee and eat and poop. ‘Course that was right there in mah livin’ room on the carpet that he’d done did all that. That darn dog. But then when he got himself acclimated to mah house he became all feisty and began a chewin’ up on everythin’ he could wrap his mouth around. Why he even devoured mah good house slippers. That darn dog.  An’ he eats faster’n a rocket ship. I gots ta keep him distracted so poor ole’ Teddy cans finish up his meal. Them cats isn’t none too happy ta have the pup in the house. He gets ta barkin’ at ‘em and they gets ta hissin’ at him. He’s had his nose swiped at quite a time or two which  I can sure tell ya true ta that one. Once though, he lit in ta Isis, the older of the two cats, and I thought he was goin’ tear her head off. I yanked him hard ‘til he choked and coughed fer a good twenty minutes or so after that one. That darn dog.
An’ a course mah daughter’s husband, Matt, won’t have nothin’ ta do with the pup so here he still is at mah house. I’ma guessin’ he’s mah dog now. He aren’t so little no more, he’s a growin’ every single day and he now towers over mah Teddy. Mah Teddy comes up about half a calf high on my leg but the pup, well he’s up ta mah knee already, an’ he’s only five months old. So much fer bein’ small. That darn pup. He aren’t nothin’ what my son said he’d be. He aren’t small, he aren’t house broke, and he aren’t trained niether, no sir not one little bit. I’d take him back ta Texas ‘cept fer the cost to fly him out there. Oh an’ the dumb pup has kinda grown on me. Yep. That darn dog. 

Monday, July 2, 2012

Slice Of Life: A Daily Story


Day 11
Monday, July 2nd


The Line

The line was rather long, the one of the three that we stood in that is. We were in the second line, the one in the middle of the hall, admissions. The first line was counseling. The third was financial assistance. There were like ten folks in our line ahead of us, five behind. Counseling had none when we arrived but now there about five. Financial assistance, well that line was like way the longest line ever. So glad we didn’t havta stand in that line. Our ‘rents were very well off. Unfortunately that meant we qualified for no financial assistance. Fortunately it kept us outta that ridiculously long and time consuming line. Yay for being economically healthy, boo for not being eligible for any state or government assistance of any kind. We aren’t an ethnic minority, we don’t fall below the middle class economic line, and we are residents of the state and country citizens. Ah well.
A girl approaches the line, leans in to like speak with another girl that is standing in our line like four people ahead of us. “I know her”, my sister whispers to me. “Really, from where” I ask her, not really whispering ‘cuz I really don’t care who overhears us. “We were in middle school together.” I look carefully at the girl. Well, she is like vaguely familiar but doesn’t stand out in my recollection. She should though since my sister and I are twins and attended the same schools together since like pre-kindergarten classes at Miss Bonnie’s St. Mary’s Star of the Sea School three year old class. But nope, this girl triggers no memory in my brain. “She went to CN High,” she continues whispering. Curtis Normell High School, not exactly our rival school academically but pretty much our competitor in the Arts departments. “How’d ja know that?” I still don’t whisper and slightly elevate my volume hoping the girl like overhears us. “She looks like a CN.” I look intensely at my own face looking back humorously at me and laugh out loud. The folks ahead of us in line turn and give us a scowl. We stifle our laughter to a chuckle. “Are you ready for this,” I ask my sister. She nods her head with a big bright smile. “Of course you are”, I reply. “You thrive in any environment!” She looks at me and the corners of her lips turn up slightly. “That’s only ‘cuz I am a whole two and half minutes older than you.”  I smile back. “Yah, like that’s it.”
After twenty minutes of line standing a lady approaches the person who is now first in line. We’ve moved up to third in line. We hear her asking the young lady what she needs to have done but we don’t hear the girl’s reply. The lady tells her that she is in the correct line and moves onto the man in line directly in front of us. He’s older, by quite a bit; at least his gray hair implies that he’s quite a bit older. She asks why he’s in line. He responds but really I don’t listen to what he says…something about re-enrolling in the school, at least that’s what I think he says. Then she approaches the two of us and looks directly at my sister and asks “Why are you here?” “Registering,” my sister responds. “Have you already applied for admission?” “Yes we have…” “But we’re not sure what to do next” I interrupt. “Have you taken the placement tests?” She is still looking at my sister. My sister and I look at each other. “Uh, no,” I say. “Well, you should go up the hall to room 122 to take the placement tests and then go to room 132 for the orientation class which you must take before going to counseling.” We look at each other again. The woman looks at the line which we are now like second in. “But,” she continues, still looking at my sister, “since you are so close to the front of this line just stay here.”  “Oh, ok,” we say in unison. The girl behind us snickers. “Seriously,” I say to my sister. “Am I invisible?” The line all around us chuckles softly.
The man before us in line is called into the room. We stand at the open doorway. I try not to peer in, trying to respect the privacy of the two already in the room but I’m curious and can’t help myself. I lean in. There are actually four ‘cubbies’, two are dark and empty. There are two open windows that are occupied. I can hear the man speaking to the woman behind the admissions window number two fumbling with the answer to the woman’s question. The question seemed simple enough. “When did you graduate?” But he seriously seemed unable to answer the question. She remained patient and offered, “Last spring?” “Yes,” he replied. “Do you still have your student I.D.?” “No,” he said. “Do you have any I.D. on you?” He pulls something out of his wallet. She begins to say something to him but I can’t hear the conversation any longer because my shirt is being forcefully pulled upon by my sister. “Stop that.” She looks at me a tad bit annoyed. “What,” I say. “I was just curious.” “Curiosity kills the cat,” she recites. “But,” I mimic the sing song style, “satisfaction brought him back.” She laughs at me. The girl behind us in line chuckles again. After another minute or two the man walks out the door and we hear “Next in line.” 
“Wow, thirty-three minutes. Is that like some kind of line record or what?” The girl behind us as well as the two men and the mother/daughter duo behind them all laugh out loud. I smile broadly and follow my sister into the room.

Sunday, July 1, 2012

Slice Of Life: A Daily Story

Day 10
Sunday, July 1st


Bond


Lost mother.
If found, tell her of her daughter.
She mostly forgets.

Saturday, June 30, 2012

Slice Of Life: A Daily Story


Day Nine
Saturday, June 30th

Shell Shocked

I don’t have a lot of time so this is going to be a quick message to whoever is out there to read it. The thundering sounds of the shells are all about me. And the sky alights as if the fourth of July. Already there are reports of massive outages throughout the city, Upper James, Prince George, Victoria, Kings Ford, Raleigh and South Princeton all without any power. I fear that we will be hit all too soon and then I will be unable to transmit any information to whoever might be there. I pray that there are still others out there. Internet is still working, but it’s spotty at best.
I can now hear the rat-a-tat-tat of the machine guns right outside of the window; I’ve dimmed the lights so as to not attract their attention. They have invaded; there is no doubt about it now. I can hear the roar of the tanks rumble down the streets interspersed with the bombings. In the brief silence I can hear the voices, arguing at times, cajoling at other times. And occasionally a female voice rises above the din. They are too near. I have locked the doors, just in case the soldiers were to try the handle.
Wait, a flash of light, coming through the drawn curtains. A flashlight. I’m crawling under the table with my laptop. As I promised, I will stay on here as long as I can. I pray to God that someone is catching this chat window. Someone somewhere, please dear God, please someone be alive to become a witness to these horrific abuse of militia gone awry. Someone is at the door. The handle is turning. Wait, wait ….
It’s alright; I believe they have passed on by. I can breathe easier ag

Friday, June 29, 2012

Slice Of Life: A Daily Story


Day Eight
Friday, June 29th

Undeveloped

The little boy was brilliant but emotionally exhausting. I wept for him. Being brilliant is not a gift, it is a curse. There are those who want to take advantage of the brilliance, those who don’t understand the brilliance, those who shun the brilliance, those who ridicule and taunt and persecute the brilliance. And I wept for the plight of the brilliant little boy who was enduring all of those and so much more. And adult trapped in the body of a seven year old body. Life, at times, seems so unfair. Genius in a child is no different than retardation in an adult. Both are the subject of awkwardness.
Fred was unpretentious. He was a quiet child and incapable of harm but harm was very capable of finding him. He was lost though he didn’t know it. During the moments of childishness he was quite adorable though. The way he smiled, his laughter, his wide eyed curiosity for the world, Fred was a very contagious soul and a sheer joy to be around. I found myself mesmerized by him yet unsure if I like that or not. I like the kid but I was afraid, so terribly terribly afraid – both of him and for him. He just wasn’t ready for the cruelty that would/ could befall him. If only he had been better supervised; life would have been for Fred if only he hadn’t of been so undeveloped. But instead he was misled and misguided and wounded … battered, beaten, and left behind. The conditions coupled with his injuries proved too much for him. He was found alive but his little heart stopped beating on the way to the hospital. Such a waste, such brilliance, and he was gone in one thoughtless, careless moment. 

Thursday, June 28, 2012

Slice Of Life: A Daily Story


Day Seven
Thursday, June 28th

I Think I Can’t

“I can’t do this!!” Katelyn threw the cards across the table. Robert, Kip, and Cindy stared at her, jaws dropped. Katelyn stood, hands balled into fists, jaw clenched, tears forming and just beginning to roll down her cheeks. The three risked fearful glances at each other and stood at their seats. Katelyn turned toward the wall, keenly aware of how her outburst made her appear and of course she felt quite a bit of embarrassment tossed in with a tad of humiliation. “I’m sorry” she mumbled. She turned back to her friends, “I just don’t get this stupid, dumb, idiotic game!” Katelyn was whining but right at the moment she didn’t care. She had lost every hand since they began playing two hours earlier. “You said this was an easy game” she continued on. “But it’s not!” Robert and Kip looked at Cindy dumbfounded, a look Cindy knew all too well. It was the ‘YOU do something with her!’ look. Cindy shrugged slightly and walked towards Katelyn. “Ya do know that you’re overreactin’, don’ja?” Katelyn stared at her, eyes unblinking, tears still streaming down her face. She didn’t want to admit it but she did know that Cindy was right. “You just aint gettin’ the luck of the draw” Cindy crooned, wrapping an arm around Katelyn’s shoulders. “Com’n back ta the table and we’ll have a nother go at it.” Cindy led Katelyn back to the table and sat her in the chair. Robert and Kip mumbled something about drinks and snacks and darted off to the kitchen. Cindy shook her head as she watched them depart to the dining room. “Men,” she said. Katelyn kind of chuckled at that. “Ya wanna tissue, Katelyn,” Cindy asked. Katelyn nodded her head and watched as Cindy left toward the bathroom to retrieve the box of Kleenex. ‘Stupid, stupid, stupid’, Katelyn scolded herself. ‘Why do you always have to behave like such a baby?’ Robert and Kip returned with a bowl of Mexi-chips and salsa. “Here ya go, Katelyn,” said Kip. “Dive in,” Robert finished. Cindy returned with the box of Kleenex and Katelyn took one and wiped the tears from her cheeks. She grabbed a chip and dipped it deep into the bowl of salsa. “Okeh” she said, stuffing the chip into her mouth. “Let’sh try thish again.” The three looked at her and said almost in unison, “Huh?” Katelyn laughed and repeated, “Let’s try this again. Robert, shuffle those darn cards.” Robert, Kip, and Cindy took their seats and an easy chatter began once again among the four friends. “Ok” Robert said as he dealt the cards. “Let’s try this again and this time Cindy will help you each step of the way.” “Better yet” Kip cajoled, “all cards face up fer the next two games.” Katelyn smiled big, glad for her friends who understood her so well.         

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Slice Of Life: A Daily Story


Day Five
Tuesday, June 26th

Nothing

Meribeth stood beside the bed. The beeping had ceased. The fervor disappeared. She hugged herself and stared down at the bed. The tubes remained yet in her arms. Life ends so suddenly. Walking closer to the bed, Meribeth stared down into the face of her mother. It wasn’t as she expected … death. It was so brutal, almost cruel. There was the look of terror on her face just before a bubbling, gurgling sound. Her eyes open wide, moving erratically, almost in frenzy, almost like she was fleeing, or trying to. Death didn’t come peacefully to her mother. Death came forcefully and her mom tried desperately to escape its clutches. Why? Why Mom?
Meribeth lightly reached out her hand, brushing her mother’s hand ever so lightly. It wasn’t cold like she expected. It wasn’t anything, actually it just was, just is, well, there. That was it really. All that was left of her mother was just, well, there. There lying in that bed as nothing; just a body, a bag of bones and flesh and nothing more. But oh mother, where have you gone? Not in this bag of flesh. This isn’t you any longer. Meribeth pondered as she stroked her mother’s lifeless hand. Mom seemed so extremely terrified of death that surely she hadn’t seen the bright light and walked a path where family members greeted her warmly and the love of God surrounded her. So where did you go, mom?
What happens to the soul after it leaves the body? Does it “hang around” here, completing unfinished work in the afterlife? Does it go into a form of “purgatory”? Are there levels of heaven that each soul has to work up through to reach God? Or is there nothingness, sleep eternal that seems but a moment in time. Is heaven for real?  Are you there Mother? Can you look down upon me, cheer me on, weep with me? But would you be so frightened of heaven? Could you be in hell? Was that the final look that I saw in your eyes, wide and frantically searching for a way to get out?
Meribeth shivered. The thought of an eternal hell sent chills down her spine. There would be no knowing. Her mother lay dead in the bed and could never come back and tell her. That is the way of death. It is to remain ever a mystery. Philosophy wasn’t something she enjoyed, theology even less. No Meribeth lived in the reality of the physical world, that which can be touched and seen. There were things that needed attending to now, arrangements that needed to be made. “We all die. The goal isn’t to live forever; the goal is to create something that will.” Good ole Palahniuk. While she didn’t believe in any form of immortality she did like to ponder that which would outlive all of humanity. The cockroach, it will definitely be the cockroach.
Meribeth reached up and closed the still wide open eyes, closing the terror that she still saw lurking behind the glazed over globes. A nurse walked into the room. The funeral home had arrived for the body. She nodded and stepped away from the bed, taking one last long look at the body lying in the bed. After all, that is all that it is. There is nothing; nothing but a bag of bones and flesh. Her mother was not there, not any longer.