welcome readers & writers. many thanks to yesterday's contributors for your great stories - De Langer, M, Dudley, FilmGuy, and Kat's Hot Iron! so good to write with you all.
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it's photog friday! that means that today's photo was taken by a professional photographer and not me. in this case, one Brenda Hamblin, sports photographer. Brenda also happens to be my cousin. thanks for your gorgeous photo, Brenda!
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so much potential here for a story, poem or creative non-fiction response. i'd love to read yours. submit it by clicking on comments below, 250(ish) words or less. here's my spin on the photo:
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Jayne stuffed her cocktail napkin into the plastic cup, along with the pretzel bag wrapper. The flight attendant would be around soon to collect the trash. She looked out the window, trying to imagine what it would be like to land in his city. Without him. She wondered, would she be able to sleep in his childhood room, tucked under his old, soft flannel sheets and comforter? She'd tried to gracefully decline the invitation to come to St. Louis for his birthday weekend, but his mom sounded so rough, so tearful on the phone. She lay her head back and closed her eyes, finally drifting off; there hadn't been much sleep last night. "May I?" said the flight attendant, her voice high and bright. Jayne's eyes snapped open, and, wondering if this woman was rude or just completely oblivious, she decided to make the moment difficult. "May you what," she asked, raising her eyebrows. "Well, take your trash," said the attendant, shaking her outstretched hand over the top of the cup. "Oh, no," said Jayne. "I wanted to hold on to that." "Really." The attendant pursed her lips. "Really," said Jayne, using the same tone. "So don't even try to take it away from me." The flight attendant clucked her tongue and turned away, muttering something that sounded like "whatever." Jayne picked up the trash and put it in her purse, zippering it up in the center pocket. She hugged it as tightly as she could to her for the rest of the trip. She thought she might never let it go.
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come write with me!
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Jayne stuffed her cocktail napkin into the plastic cup, along with the pretzel bag wrapper. The flight attendant would be around soon to collect the trash. She looked out the window, trying to imagine what it would be like to land in his city. Without him. She wondered, would she be able to sleep in his childhood room, tucked under his old, soft flannel sheets and comforter? She'd tried to gracefully decline the invitation to come to St. Louis for his birthday weekend, but his mom sounded so rough, so tearful on the phone. She lay her head back and closed her eyes, finally drifting off; there hadn't been much sleep last night. "May I?" said the flight attendant, her voice high and bright. Jayne's eyes snapped open, and, wondering if this woman was rude or just completely oblivious, she decided to make the moment difficult. "May you what," she asked, raising her eyebrows. "Well, take your trash," said the attendant, shaking her outstretched hand over the top of the cup. "Oh, no," said Jayne. "I wanted to hold on to that." "Really." The attendant pursed her lips. "Really," said Jayne, using the same tone. "So don't even try to take it away from me." The flight attendant clucked her tongue and turned away, muttering something that sounded like "whatever." Jayne picked up the trash and put it in her purse, zippering it up in the center pocket. She hugged it as tightly as she could to her for the rest of the trip. She thought she might never let it go.
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come write with me!
“I can’t be bothered with this!”
ReplyDelete“With what?”
“With this!!”
“With what?”
“THIS!!!”
“Oh that!”
“Yes this.”
“OK, so don’t do it”
“But I have to.”
“No you don’t.”
“I do.”
“Why?”
“’Cos.”
“’Cos isn’t an answer.”
“It is.”
“No it isn’t.”
“Oh shut up.”
“Why should I?”
“You are annoying me now.”
“Am I?”
“SHUT UP!!”
“I’m bored.”
“Really??? I would never have guessed.”
“No need for sarcasm.”
“Do something so.”
“Like what?”
“Like not annoying me for starters.”
“Oooooo!!! Who is cranky today?”
“ME!! Guess who made me cranky!!”
“Me?”
“YES!!”
“Sorry.”
“Try saying it without smirking.”
“Let’s do something different.”
“Like what?”
“Like messing with peoples heads.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“’Cos the last time we got sent here remember!!”
“Oh yeah.”
“Yeah.”
“Fine.”
“Just shut up and so your job.”
“I hate my job.”
“So do I, but am I complaining?”
“You sound like you are.”
“Well I’m not.”
“You’re sulking then.”
“Maybe I am.”
“Why?”
“’Cos I hate my job and I hate you for getting us into trouble and I hate that I have to listen to your whiney little voice all the time, non stop, every day, all day!!!”
“I see.”
“Good.”
“So….”
“What?”
“Wanna do something?”
“AHHHHHHH!!”
“Oooo that was cool!”
“Dammit!!! Now look what you made me do!”
“But it was cool!”
“But there can’t be any thunder yet.”
“Why?”
“Didn’t you read the schedule?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Cos I knew you would.”
“It’s too soon for the thunder. We are going to be in trouble again.”
“At least it wasn’t my fault this time.”
It's the greatest freedom! We only do it once in a great while. Sometimes the climate just doesn't cooperate. Sometimes the rest of life is just so satisfying we just don't need this transforming experience. Oftentimes, we are so busy with the myriad projects and activities we're involved in we don’t even think of it.
ReplyDeleteThe preparation is fairly long and since it's both of us we must have completed the preliminary morph at the same time, which doesn't always happen, so one of us may be left waiting for the other for a long enough time to dissipate, and reform. But we manage to coordinate mentalities four or five times a year, and then the bonding is as tight as atomic structures.
I pull him out of his play pen and we lie down together and concentrate. It doesn't take but ten, fifteen minutes when we are of like mind. And once the transformation has begun I stand, he clambers onto my shoulders and I simply leap into the wind. For two, three hours we race as clouds above the earth, bursting all ties with rationality, civilization, ambition, choice and politics. We sail as clouds, wailing and laughing. My son. Myself. The Universe.
Clouded Dreams
ReplyDeleteI often wonder why I always dream of clouds and never anything else. No scary places or people chasing me. No distorted buildings with much more space inside than outside. No insight on who I am or where I’m going. Maybe I just need to figure out the patterns, decipher what I see. My clouds are always massive and billowing yet they never seem to move now that I think of it. Sometimes they appear calm, very white and fluffy, and other times they are dark with lightning streaking through them. Why always clouds, do they obscure something I’m supposed to see? I dream in vivid color so the clouds I’m seeing now have a beautiful cobalt hue with hints of green and gray. As I observe the shapes more carefully, animal faces come into focus. I see a monkey face, and a barn owl, and a frog. The faces are obscured as well by wisps of clouds drifting in front of them. I wonder if this is so I can’t quite see them or so they can’t quite see me. The dreams always come just as I’m waking and the light sneaking through the window curtains brings me out of sleep. As I whisk them open I’m amazed to see that the clouds outside look exactly like the ones in my dream and I think to myself, “What does it all mean?”
Evading is not the word I would use. When I had enough of being followed, I just left. Up. I think their heads must have snapped back and those mirrored sunglasses searched the sky, hands reaching for tasers that had no target. Evading implies they had a chance and they never really did. Just a smear of light smashing into the sky and I was gone.
ReplyDeleteNow this was freedom. If you have never flown, you should try it. Although I can’t recommend the four year path of torture and surgery. Still, my heart was pounding out a furious beat. I was in the cloud. Wholly crap if I lost my powers now… I would fall so far. Hrm.
I plummeted out of the sky like a rock. I tried splaying my arms like I had seen on TV. And then I was going faster like bullet into the earth. Oh, man it was getting closer. I reached for the hairy spot in my brain, that itch and gave it all my focus… and I flew. Back up into those clouds. Yeah, it rocked.