I found a high school photo of my sister this morning. Five years dead, and I hadn’t seen her for a year before that. So I shouldn’t be shocked that I barely recognized her. Oh, I know the picture; it hung in my Lexington office. And truly, she looked exactly as I expected. Yet the curve of her jaw, the angle of her nose, the set of her eyes, all of those things were unfamiliar to me, like an artist’s renderings of shapes known only by touch.
I’m a firecracker. Short fuse; loud bang. I never cross a bridge but that I burn it.… Read the rest
This is how the advice sounds when I’m exasperated. It’s not fair at all, because one of the things about Asperger’s for my kids is that it makes the path from idea to vocal cord very cumbersome indeed, and one of those concepts that I have to explain regularly is, “The words in your heart don’t reach my ears if you don’t use your mouth.” But it’s been a “Use your words” kind of weekend around here, and so I give you the advice I all but shouted to my children earlier today. (Parenting fail.)
Thanks for letting me vent, Trifecta.… Read the rest
Kelly rubbed the bandage on her right leg and winced. She had no spare energy to heal the wound. She hated this stretch of 331, where there were no streetlights between podunk towns, and every reflection might be him. Hell, for all she knew, every reflection was him. He managed to infect everything. In back, Amber shifted in her carseat and Luna hummed with the radio.
“He’s ten miles ahead.”
Luna didn’t answer. Kelly didn’t know why she had asked.
There was a chance to change course, head for Destin instead of Pensacola. But he surely knew that, too.… Read the rest
You flipped when we were young, twisted into oxygen, while I grew words, heavy and solid. Though the atmosphere absorbed you, we continue even now, you ethereal air and I water weathered stone.
The Pascagoula River ran into its banks as if the Gulf of Mexico had oozed narrow fingers inland. At the I-10 rest stop, tourists bound for New Orleans debarked and snapped photos of each other and the muddy water.
A woman complained, “I don’t know why we stopped here; we’ve got toilets.”
“Grab a snack. Look at the bayou.” The driver walked towards the men’s room.
At the far corner of the building, an old man in a heavy coat shouted. “Repent!” He brandished a Bible like a weapon. “How shall you answer when He calls your name?”
He had an audience of one, a dark haired woman in short sleeves and jeans who had not arrived on the bus.… Read the rest
Yes, I’m sorry, this one has backstory. Not much. And it makes sense out of context. But if you want to know how we got here,
Start with this one
Then read this one
And then go here
Then proceed with this week’s entry
“What’s your name, child?” The queen picked up a kitten and settled it on her lap as she sat on the bed.
“Pickles.” The girl squirmed and turned her head to sneeze.
“Well… Pickles, what does the Wizard Deen do for you?” The kitten began climbing her majesty’s dress.
“Bed, two meals, sometimes three a day.… Read the rest
Hope is the yawning mouth of the river. It gathers desire, expectation, and disappointment into a single current. It binds me into a place where my stomach growls and my throat swells. Hope is a jailer whose prison pretends to sunshine. It holds out bright open spaces and blinding joy, but it denies revelry. It builds its box one ray at a time, until the light is painful. It burns me until my skin is scalded.
Hope is every childhood nightmare. It is the feeling of running away from the monster down the street of faceless houses. It is the certainty of escape that crashes against the pursuing evil rounding that final corner.… Read the rest
Jimi Hendrix shifted his weight on my couch and jabbed at his gums with a toothpick.
From the kitchen, John Lennon called, “Anybody else want a cuppa?”
Janis Joplin took a drag on a round kazoo and blew smoke rings to the ceiling. “John, you have to come back in here. You need to. You’ve got to come back in here.”
“Ever see Star Wars?” John and his cuppa nearly tripped over the dog in the kitchen doorway. “Whoosh, buzz, bap, crack.” He waved an imaginary light saber.
Janis shook her head.
“Died too soon.” Jimi threw his toothpick behind the couch.… Read the rest
And when that bright wind blows, will it call for me?
Or will I instead remain solid, true?
Do the stars truly flicker in their black firmament?
The core is in the asking.
Trifextra is all about layers this week. Come play and expose your own core.
“He was standing right there.” The little boy stayed on the stairs and refused to step into the basement proper.
“Where I am now?” His father pointed down.
“What did he look like, Dennis?” John Trinkle followed his son’s quick feet back up to the kitchen.
Dennis sat in front of his cereal and tucked his knees under his chin. He wrapped his arms around his legs. “He was made out of fire, with a face like a bull. He had horns.” The father poured himself a mug of coffee and sat beside his son, rather than across from the child where his plate of toast lay untouched.… Read the rest