We sit in white rooms now, spartan furnishings, novel-sized windows. The tea is warm yet still melts the chocolate. Today they let us hear a bird song. The leap of its whistle reminded me of something that used to occur, when things used to occur.
Walking towards the light, the people wondered if they would be provided clothes or would they have to keep walking in the nude. They were unaware that they were still dressed in their own clothes. The drugs made them see the world around them incorrectly. They looked in awe at the lush green foliage, trees, grasses. All they could see ahead was the magnificent building, the place where they would be saved, rejuvenated, find themselves in heaven.
By the time the drugs wore off, they would find themselves in hell. All the rapists, murderers, backstabbing gossips, paedophiles never looked back...
I will always remember my 10th birthday. It was the funniest day ever. everything was fine and amazing with the princess posteres over the garage walls and the tabel and my cake with disney written on it and all the colours of the rainbow. 'smile honey' my mum said moving closer towards me.
Then she fell, Forward and face first into the cake. The Party around me erupted into laughter and yelling at me 'hey liz, your mums a clutz.' they laughed even harder at that comment. I walked around the table to sea what she tripped on and guess...
A small office, four storeys up a marble staircase with an flowery ironwork bannister. Dark. Quiet. A light passes the window, shifting the shadows. There, in the darkness behind the desk, a face. An open mouth. Staring eyes. John's heart hammers in his chest so loudly. Can he here it? Can Adam see him? And the girl. The poor girl. Blood pools beneath the desk. And for what? A painting? Art from an artist centuries past. A dead work for dead people. His hand tightens on the suitcashandle. The Pelican. Is it worth this?
Absent for years and then he shoes up and wants to pretend he was never gone anywhere. Catch up, he says, get back to how things used to be.
Used to be, I told him, we,d wake up at dawn and start working. Then the drought came and the animals starved and died and then Pa snapped his back falling down from the hayloft. And then Ma just about folded in on herself until she was just this little thing that the wind could have picked up and taken away, and then one day it did.
But you wouldn't know,...
i jumped. it was the toaster this time. nerves of steel. i hand the waffle to my daughter. "dad (looking me over)--you are really bad at fashion." that's the tip of the iceberg.
people are circles. the outside circle is our behavior. the next circle is our thoughts. inside that, our feelings. at the center there is supposed to be something else, something more lasting and substantial. a light, our soul, awareness, something. and that's what we really are.
but what if this center goes unused or unnoticed for so long that it disappears. or the outer circles take on...
She'd always come running when I called.
But not today. The kids called me at work and said they couldn't find her, and that after she lapped a bit of water in the morning they hadn't seen her all day.
When I got home we all searched the area. I knew she couldn't have gone far - her walk was slowing and she was getting weak. She still loved the kids, and played when she could, but she was 12, after all, and most Border Collies reached the end by that age.
I found her after about 5 minutes of...
Margaret talked trivia all day to me. Tv shows, online forum friends, recipes, to do lists, celebrity downfalls. Why would an ex-intelligence agent be like this? It was a mystery I wanted to solve.
Whenever I came over for a chat, we sat drinking coffee in a living room bursting with ornaments and pictures on the walls. I don't think there was an inch of space anywhere. Dreamcatchers, statues of the Virgin Mary, shelves of porcelain dolls, angels. I've never seen so many different types of angels in my life! Paintings of them, statues, crystal, hundreds of crochet angel pins...
I am still half dreaming as I open my eyes against the night. The alarm hasn't gone off yet, shaking me awake with its awful, soul grating shriek, and it is not yet morning. I glance at the slime green display on the clock - 2.18am. Not good. Something has disturbed my sleep at this usually, thankfully, unknown hour and I just hope that I can ignore it and drift back down into my rest.
I try, but there is a sound, or some movement, or maybe it's both things, and my eyes are open again even though I wish...
Monkey banged into the table leg. The box hesitantly tipped over, shortening its shadow. Small waves of wine sieved through the table cloth.
"That fucking dog."
We laughed, watching our evening sink into the carpet.
We were too high to be drinking anyway.