A Flashlight, a Hurricane, and a Lawn Mower

I hit my flashlight again, hoping against hope that the batteries would reconsider; that they would decide that they would, after all, keep working. At least for a little while longer. I couldn't let it die.

My heartbeat quickened as I stumbled through the field. I had no idea where I was, or even worse, where the next piece of civilization was. My heart felt like it would beat right through my chest as the batteries languished and died, their last breath of light fading away.

The last thing I had heard on the radio before my car gave out flashed through my mind once again and I quickened my footsteps, though I could no longer see them.

A hurricane was coming. It was coming soon. It was coming here. My rational thoughts died out on me—I began to run. In the black darkness of the night, my mind was seeing horrible things, which quickened and blurred until my mind, too, was running.

My legs stopped, but my upper body kept going—I flew over some object and landed on my face and hands. I groaned, felt out what it was I had tripped over. I fumbled, feeling the metal, the strange shape of it. It took me a few minutes, while my mind slowed down and thoughts returned.

I began to laugh slowly. I laughed harder and harder until I was afraid that I had lost my mind. I had tripped over a lawn mower. I got up finally and started calling out in all directions, hoping somebody owned this and somebody lived nearby.

I shouted into the distance and I heard a low rumble of thunder answer me as rain drops began to prick my skin.

Nanowrimo!

Sorry for the extremely long silence here. I was dealing with sickness and death (not mine, obviously) for quite a while, and wasn't able to get myself to write anything.

Now, however, though there are definitely no guarantees that I'll be posting a lot here, I am doing Nanowrimo, which for those who don't know, is the National Novel Writing Month, in which writers join an online community, and do their best to write a 50,000 word novel, all in the month of November. I got started a little late, and am currently up to 8,000 words. *Phew* I hope I can do it. Maybe I'll keep this updated with how that is progressing, and what it's like for me, considering I've never done this before. In fact, outside of college papers, I can't remember the last time I strung 8,000 words or more together. So, it's a test to see if I can write long-form fiction. Weee! Here we go! Let me know if you want to hear updates about this..

10 Words for 10 Days: Days 7-10

Here I stand, waiting for someone to come and show me how they think this world should work, before I dive headlong into life, and follow my own direction. A look into the past, and then I'll jump, breath held, arms out, praying that I have the courage to look at what I face, and smile. The wind whips through the desert, where I have been sent to face my worst fears, to see if I can come through on what I have proclaimed. My guide will be here soon, and then I discover what I am capable of doing.

10 Words for 10 Days: Day 6

Here I stand, waiting for someone to come and show me how they think this world should work, before I dive headlong into life, and follow my own direction. A look into the past, and then I'll jump, breath held, arms out, praying that I have the courage to look at what I face, and smile. The wind whips through

10 Words for 10 Days: Day 5

Here I stand, waiting for someone to come and show me how they think this world should work, before I dive headlong into life, and follow my own direction. A look into the past, and then I'll jump, breath held, arms out, praying that I have the courage to look

10 Words for 10 Days: Day 4

Here I stand, waiting for someone to come and show me how they think this world should work, before I dive headlong into life, and follow my own direction. A look into the past, and then I'll jump, breath held,

10 Words for 10 Days: Day 3

Here I stand, waiting for someone to come and show me how they think this world should work, before I dive headlong into life, and follow my own direction. A

10 Words for 10 Days: Day 2

Here I stand, waiting for someone to come and show me how they think this world should work, before I

10 Words for 10 Days

Here I stand, waiting for someone to come and show

Reverse Alphabet Exercise

Zack could hardly stand to look at the reflecting pool of water anymore. Yesterday's events were still rolling through his mind, and the water did nothing to distract him. Xenophobia seemed to surround him on all sides and he had no idea what to do about it. Without much help or offer of friendship, he was a one-man protest against the scowling population. Vindictiveness was a quality Zack had never possessed, and so could not understand it in others. Unless he decided to give up everything he had worked for, he would have to learn to deal with the locals. To many people, he represented an encroaching difference, which they did not know how to abide. Sewn together in a web of distrust, the people nonetheless grudgingly accepted and counted on his services. Quietly, they would thank him for his expert advice, then run off quickly before they were discovered doing so. Perhaps it was this contradictory behavior which led to yesterday's actions.

Open until the last rays of sun faded in the valley, Zack closed his office in the dark. Never before had he encountered someone after he closed his doors, but as he turned, there stood Suzie Johnson, staring at him intensely. Moving toward him, he stepped back from the recklessness in her eyes, but she closed the gap swiftly and planted a kiss on his lips. Little did she realize that someone else was walking by, so when she saw the startled man, she turned back to Zack and slapped him, hard, across the face. Knowing the likely outcome, Zack pursed his lips with anger and looked at the ground, waiting for Hell to fall upon him. Just before the potentially fatal moment of the furious man's approach, Zack's eyes flitted up to Suzie and he saw the confusion, anger, and fear flit across her face. Instead of following through with the role of victim, she flung herself at Zack, screaming, "Wait!"

His heart was pounding, uncertain what anyone would do next, as the all stood, frozen, in the wake of that scream. Gaining a moment of perspective, the man stepped back and appraised the situation.

"Forever getting herself into trouble, little Suzie. Even for an educated man, she sure can do a lot of crazy, confusing things," the man muttered, looking at Suzie before nodding slightly to Zack as he walked away.

Donning a half-grin, Zack looked out over the water and wondered where the crazy girl had gone after she, too, had run away. Counting on the xenophobia to win out, he did not expect to see her again and was frustrated that she would never explain herself. Before he walked away from the pond, he felt a hand flutter at his shoulder and felt an answering stir in his heart as he turned to find Suzie standing, flushed, beside him. Any other time, he would have been shocked and suspicious, but now he could not help but smile as she dove into his arms and held herself there, cheek against his chest, tears soaking his shirt.

Out of My Senses

My eyes mock me, refusing to reveal what must truly be there.  The Gates of Hell rise before me, tears and sweat dripping off the creatures falling down, falling up the doors.

I can smell their fear; or is it my own?  It tingles in my nose and the sweat standing in the air makes me freeze.

The drops touch my forehead, an ironic blessing, and tickle my arms on their way to the ground.  The caress lingers and they laugh in my ears.

It is so silent: too silent for this scene, this place.  Only the trickling of raindrops breaks through the invisible sound barrier and I open my mouth to scream, to crash into reality.

I taste the metal on my tongue and I can't help but swallow.  It is sharp, acidic, and cruel.  It bites me back and I can taste the horrors.

My senses tell me yes, but this cannot be true.

The bronze sculpture stares back, mocking.

A Conversation

"What do you think?"

"I'd never do that."

"Can you believe--"

"No I can't."

"What did you expect?"

"Something more--"

"Than what she already gave?"

"Yes!  Of course!"

"You can't be naive."

"You are!"

"Who are you mad at?"

"Her.  Sorry.  Not you."

"I know, but still..."

"I'm sorry, ok?"

"Ok, fine."

"I'll never forgive her."

"Believe me, I know."

"I'm better off, anyway."

"Damn right."

"That's humble."

"Come kiss me."

"You wish."

Animal

Another way of looking,

no better way to go

in the midst of darkness falling

more here than you can know.

again, I see hearts pounding

like my footprints through the snow.

Angel

There's an angel up above

looking down at me:

she smiles oh-so-sweetly

from her perch upon the tree.

Nowhere else to wander,

I stand and gaze above

she swings her legs with childish glee:

an angel truly made of love.

Alphabet Exercise

All along, she knew that he was ready to burst.  Before she could do anything about it, he had taken his things and left.  Could she have known that, she would have locked his door.  During his long months in therapy, he never seemed to change or open up.  Even though the doctor said he was making progress, she could only see the circles growing under his eyes. 

Finding out later that he had taken a boat to Europe made her anguish both better and worse.  Getting the news that he was doing his own thing, finally taking charge, was wonderful.  Having to realize that he never wanted to see her again, was awful.  Instead of being able to be happy for him, she decided she must follow.  Just in case he wouldn't be able to see her without blowing up, she donned a disguise.  Kindly old gentlemen, she recalled, had always made him grin: their shaky legs slowly taking their wisdom from place to place.

Leaving behind all that she had known, she flies after him, occasionally scratching at her itchy new beard.  More than once did she think she saw some knowing, amused faces staring at her.  No one could really figure it out, she reasoned, but that didn't make her any more comfortable. 

 Opening her nose to her new location once she stepped out of the airport, she discovered that this scent felt like home.  Protecting the newly acquired identity, she joyfully hobbled along the cobblestone streets.  Quietly muttering her thoughts to herself about how silly the whole thing was, she bumped into a tall stranger.  Resisting the impulse to wrap her now-old arms around the first human contact she'd felt in long while, she looked up to bestow a kindly apology to the man.  Strangely enough, this was another old man whom she had walked into, and she could see faint signs of his beard wisps hanging off of his face at quite unnatural angles.  Though she knew the chances, she ventured a guess.  Using the cane as support, she looked up at a steep angle into those eyes surrounded by wrinkles.  

"Vernon?"  While she watched the shock on his face reverberate through his fake wrinkles, hers crinkled and started jiggling with laughter.  "Xerosis got you already; I can see it's so bad that your beard is coming off."   

Young in heart, as in actual years, they laughed together, staying more or less in each other's company for years, as their new, wrinkled selves.  Zinging each other, they would sit in parks, chuckling at the young kids and the foolishness they got into.