I wanted to suffer quietly and beautifully
but suffering is noisy and deformed
it spits on the sidewalk in front of innocent
bystanders and it makes no apologies
it wipes its nose on its sleeve and it whines
for sympathy it licks the hands of the compassionate
it howls over a broken fingernail
everything reminds it that it exists everything
mocks its existence everything convinces it that it
is ugly it is a freak at a freak show it is
the rotting leftover shoved to the back of
the refrigerator and it makes everything smell as
its final biting and weeping vengeance that
it exists at all.
Monday, 31 October 2016
A Slow Twisting Place, Chapter 48
Chapter 48 of my free serialized novel A Slow Twisting Place is available to read now on my other blog--just click here. Use the same link to read Chapters 1-47. Enjoy!
Endings
Despair
rose up in me like a flash flood, so quickly that it had almost drowned my
heart when I heard a snuffling. The dog
who smelled like cake shuffled out from behind an overgrown bush. “Are you real?” I asked her. “Or are you going to disappear, too?”
She
cocked her head and bared crooked teeth at me, as if to say, does it matter?
I
dropped down onto the ground next to her; the setting sun was hot on my neck. “It's too warm for you,” I told her. “You should go back into the woods, where’s
it cooler.”
But
she wouldn’t move.
Tiredly I leaned back
against the damp, cold ground. I
closed my eyes and I heard some more snuffling, until I felt her fuzzy head
against the palm of my hand. We will be safe tonight, I thought to
myself. Tomorrow was anybody’s
guess. Absolute safety would never be
mine to have. It simply didn’t exist.
Friday, 28 October 2016
Cold
I remember the glasses now
the dark plastic green with ridges in
the base the small slim
crystal that held the dandelion
I brought home for you.
I remember the spectacles I broke
as they lay on your bed
it was an accident it was an accident
they cost the earth you said
I never had a chance
god how you hated me
it was only an accident
I remember.
Unprepared
No one mentioned Debbie’s name at
work. “What happened?” Jonah would ask himself
in the mirror each night, just after he brushed his teeth. One moment she'd been standing next to the
cart, complaining about tropical oils. And the next, he was holding
the perfect strawberry in winter, talking to no one. Only Bill, who Jonah sometimes came across in
the cafeteria during his coffee break, said to Jonah,
“I’m sorry about Debbie, man.” Jonah
pretended not to hear him. He just asked
if Bill knew who had won the basketball game.
Thursday, 27 October 2016
Corners
I met her at the cafe where I liked to read the paper in the
morning. At the time she struck me as
nothing special—just another smiley college student waiting tables over the
summer. Only after she gave me the wrong
coffee three days in a row did I really pay any notice to her.
During her rambling apology—“I’m so sorry, I just can’t
remember if the white doily means vanilla or regular, I keep thinking white has
to be vanilla and then I think, no, it’s the opposite, and then I get myself
all mixed up”—I didn’t know whether to laugh or tell her to go away. In the end I did neither. Eventually I would come to wish I had done
the latter.
Jumping
Erica
calls me a couple of days after Thanksgiving.
We talk for a while about work and debts and boyfriends. I thought I knew everything but now I realize
I know almost as close to nothing as you can get without having fallen here on
accident from another planet.
Wednesday, 26 October 2016
Addiction
I left
you
I did
that
was me who limped behind
who
whimpered and begged as
fear
threatened me blind
but I left you
yes, I did
Your
voice now I must ignore
oh, and
it sears and it soars, and it
roars
with the ferocity of a
jungle
cat
because I left you back there
with the imploring stare
on your face
yes, I did
Old
truths fill the
black
hole where
I
buried the leaking need
for you
I know
all about incurable wounds
So much and for so many weepy and
lonely afternoons
I meant to leave you
for so much, my friend
and I did
It cost
me the destruction of an atomic rage
poisoned
the air with its smoke-orange memories
maybe it will melt my blistering heart
maybe it will leave me to freeze in the
drift of its nuclear winter
when the
death that crouches in wait for me
crouches
close for you, too
forgive me for pulling this scratchy
scarf
over my eyes
forgive me, love, because I was made
to leave you
and I did
A Slow Twisting Place, Chpt 47 Update
It's still not quite ready yet, so I'm going to lock myself into a room today and try to plow through it. Here, at least, is the first paragraph:
Sleep proved elusive. Prowling
around my apartment I felt weirdly wired, like I’d just snorted a line of
cocaine. That made it difficult to
relax, and even more difficult to think.
But I had to think. I needed to
find a way out of this acid trip before my head exploded.
While you're waiting for the rest, click here to Read Chpts 1-46!
The Weight of the World
It was a difficult, silent drive back to my mom’s. When I pulled into the driveway and turned
off the ignition we both just sat there, until Michael said, “I’m sorry you
feel I let you down. But the important
thing is that now you know what you’re dealing with. You can’t go back to him.”
“It’s not that simple.
You aren’t even sure about what happened with Cheryl,” I retorted. “And if he’d treated her that badly, she
would have wanted the divorce, not fought it tooth and nail.”
“The psychology of domestic abuse is a strange beast. Otherwise why would you even consider staying with him?”
“It wasn’t domestic abuse.”
“He broke your arm.
He made you quit law school. He
doesn’t let you have any money, and you can do almost nothing without his approval,”
Michael brutally reminded me. “If that
isn’t domestic abuse, I don’t know what is.”
“Well, you might feel that way, but I don't. I think I owe him another chance," I said, and opened the car door. This conversation was over.
Tuesday, 25 October 2016
Looking in
This is not how I meant it to be.
This was not who I meant to become.
These are not the memories I
expected to replay in my
head
as I remembered who
I once had been.
Triumph
In
the red straw network there is:
*no
hope
*no
telling
*no
entrance
*no
exit
*no
talking
*no
timeline
*no
travelling
*no
sharing
*no
smoking
*no
milk with cereal
Thank
you for respecting the rules. Carry on
with your business.
But
your legs get a little bit heavier. And
the strings get a little bit longer. And
the knots feel a little bit tighter. And
the joke gets a little bit harder to laugh at.
A
harsh beautiful place, this memory horizon.
If you squint your eyes you can see the moon.
There
isn’t much I can see anymore.
I
am losing. You don’t just suddenly stop
losing. You think about why you’re
losing, you despair that you are losing, you blame the universe for losing, you
write self-pitying poems about losing, you come up with reasons why losing is
not really losing, you give yourself pep talks about losing, you brainstorm how
to stop losing, you develop five-point plans to halt the losing, you wonder if
we are all really losing, you become heavy and tired with losing, you think
maybe if I get a haircut I won’t keep losing, and then you find that after all
of this you are still losing. And not
only are you still losing, but you are now losing by so much that winning
becomes unrealistic, so you start coming up with easier goals, like
“accepting,” or “taking small steps” or “adapting.” But in the end you will just be losing again.
Monday, 24 October 2016
Blinded
my hand trailing listless in your wake
no real difference between a
choice and a mistake
the stars led me everywhere but gone
if I could I would ask you please
I would shout it to your stones and rivers
and trees
what were we
doing here
how could we
have been so wrong?
Sunday, 23 October 2016
Isolation
I could hear the three of them talking
in the kitchen. His sardonic voice
matched his pictures, which did nothing to bolster my nerves. But there was no avoiding it. After taking a deep breath I forced myself to crutch into the lion's den.
The three of them were seated at the
kitchen table, drinking coffee; when they saw me their conversation came to an abrupt end. Hawk beamed, and David smiled, but Jesse just stared at me as if I'd sprouted wings and a horn on my forehead. “Here she is,” Hawk said, like he always
did. “Come join us.”
I made my way over to the table. David pulled out a chair for me, directly across from Jesse.
“Megan, this is Jesse,” he said.
“Jesse, Megan.”
“Hello, Megan,” Jesse said, but he was
frowning. Unsure of what that meant, I produced
only an indecipherable gurgle in return.
“She’s a shy girl,” Hawk told Jesse with a chuckle. “We haven’t coaxed more than a few words out
of her yet, but we’re working on it.”
Still frowning, Jesse replied, “Maybe
she just can’t get a word in edgewise.”
“Very funny,” Hawk returned. “But, go ahead—see if you can do better.”
“I’m sure I can’t.”
“Well, this conversation won’t help,”
David put in, and turned toward me. “Would
you like some breakfast?”
I shook my head.
“I’ll make you some tea,” Hawk said. As David kept an eye on his elderly father, now filling up the kettle, he remarked to me, “It’s not easy for a female to break into a household of
males. All we can do is hope that Jesse
will find himself a wife and give you a sister-in-law for company.”
Jesse rolled his eyes. Alarmed for some reason, I blurted out, “I’m
sure I’ll be back in Madison soon.”
David went very straight. Hawk, too, stopped what he was doing. But it was Jesse who said, “Why would you
want to do that?”
“I have to finish school.”
“You can do that here,” David
protested. “That’s right,” Hawk said,
“our university is excellent. Jesse
teaches there sometimes. With your
grades I’m sure you’d have no problems getting in.”
“Of course not,” Jesse said. “You can’t go back to Madison by yourself. The weather there is terrible—it would be
impossible for you to get around in winter.
And you wouldn’t have anyone to help you in case of emergency.”
“There are other disabled people there,”
I argued, choking on the word ‘disabled.’
“I could take the bus. And if I
were in trouble, my friends would help me.”
“Those friends will not be reliable,”
Jesse retorted. “You need people around
who you can count on 24/7. Someone you
met in class isn’t going to fill that role.
Anyway, I’ve been to Madison, and that campus is enormous, not to
mention hilly. A bus won’t be able to
bring you door to door to most of the buildings. I understand it must be frustrating to have
to start over somewhere else, but most of your credits will probably
transfer. Your life has changed—you need
to change with it.”
I lowered my eyes, afraid that any
moment I might start screaming or crying or both. Your
life has changed. He made this
pronouncement so matter-of-factly, but I was the one living it, not him. Anyway, just because he was my much older biological brother didn’t give him the right to lecture
me. “I want to go back and finish my
degree,” I said. “I’ll be fine.”
My pronouncement was met with total
silence. Amazing how these three men I
hadn’t even known a year ago felt they had the right to make my decisions
for me. “Well, that’s nothing we have to
worry about now,” David finally said.
“Let’s just concentrate on your physical therapy for the time being.”
“Excellent idea,” Hawk agreed. I thought I heard Jesse snort, but I couldn’t
be sure. All I did know was that I had
just been patronized in the worst way possible.
Saturday, 22 October 2016
Saturday morning
And in your heart and in your heart,
listen...
I keep everything in the graying sky as I
wait, locked outside --
the deep freeze will be quick.
But I don't mind.
To be warm is a lie I lost
the reason to tell.
Friday, 21 October 2016
Happy Hour
I waded through the throng of yuppies gathering for their
evening cocktails at Sophie's, already irritated. How was I ever going to find a seat at the
bar? Louise knew I hated meeting her
here after I’d finished playing receptionist for the day, but somehow I wound
up in this yuppie hell at least two days a week. Eight
more weeks and I’ll be back in Madison, I reassured myself. Then this crap summer would be just another
memory.
Nothing
I remember how something could
break every word you spoke,
make you sound like you were
choking.
I would watch your face as it
disappeared
at least one million miles into
the stratosphere,
your voice drifting alongside
like a bullet that has no mark.
Shot stray into a crowded night.
And the light halted against your back,
as you danced that frantic ballet
suspended midair
because the floor bottomed out years
before.
Now as I float alone
I remember how I
used to ride in the car,
thrust my head out of
the window.
Because it was spring.
Because it felt good.
make you sound like you were
choking.
I would watch your face as it
disappeared
at least one million miles into
the stratosphere,
your voice drifting alongside
like a bullet that has no mark.
Shot stray into a crowded night.
And the light halted against your back,
as you danced that frantic ballet
suspended midair
because the floor bottomed out years
before.
Now as I float alone
I remember how I
used to ride in the car,
thrust my head out of
the window.
Because it was spring.
Because it felt good.
A Slow Twisting Place, Chapter 46
Chapter 46 of A Slow Twisting Place is now available to read here! Now is a great time to catch up with Chapters 1-45 because I will be taking a short break before I post Chapter 47. So join in and see what all the fuss is about!
Thursday, 20 October 2016
Aftermath
All
of the followers had gone, sucked into the girl’s funnel cloud and carried
off to god knew where. What remained lay
on the ground, broken. The restaurant
would not be serving again.
I
was wondering where Marietta had gone when a dishevelled figure with a lopsided purple hairdo and an old face limped over to me. We stood and looked at each other for a
while, before she said, “You think you’ve won. But the spell is broken for you, too.”
“I
know,” I answered. “But at least I can
live with myself.”
Lost
You cannot keep what you did not
know you would forever
have to hide.
Forgiveness comes cheaply outside.
In here I stand alone in a
million miles of prairie grass.
The storm is rolling in and I
am bankrupt once again.
Ghosts
When
I opened the cage and released the girl, she howled past me, a cyclone powered
by atomic pain. I crouched against the
wall and covered my ears but I could still hear her screams, the terrified
shouts of those in the lost restaurant, as she raged deadly witness against
them.
Wednesday, 19 October 2016
Unspoken
It was cold even though the rain had ended
and the sun now peeked out from behind the clouds. In Wisconsin the coldest days were always the
sunniest.
His father came up from behind him. “Farmer’s Almanac says it’s going to be a wet
winter," he remarked.
Jonah nodded, lost in an abstraction.
“It's nice, isn't it?" his father said, gesturing toward the headstone.
"Yeah. It turned out well."
"Used them for your grandparents--they did a good job then, too. Very reliable."
The two men stood silently for a moment, considering the engraving job. Jonah was about to comment on the etched flower in the corner when his father told him, "I'm moving to Florida."
Jonah looked over at him. “You are? When?”
“Tomorrow.
No point in staying here. The
realtor says I’ll make a mint on the house, and I have a condo down there. Bought it with your mother right before she
got sick.” His father cleared his throat. “Be nice if you could visit. The condo has a guestroom. You’re welcome to use it.”
“Thanks.”
His father nodded. “Okay, then.
Tell Jackie I said goodbye.”
“You’re not going to tell him yourself?”
“He’s busy tonight. Something about a poker game, and I didn’t
get a chance to tell him before that.
The movers are coming Saturday.
You mind checking in, to make sure they’re doing things right?”
“…Okay.”
“Maybe you can come in April. April’s real nice there—not too humid. We could go to Disneyworld, or Universal
Studios. Always wanted to take you boys
there when you were young, but...” His
father cleared his throat again. “Okay,
then. Talk to you soon.”
“Talk to you soon,” Jonah echoed. He watched his father shuffle off to the parking lot before he returned his attention to the headstone. Beloved mother and wife, it read. Strange how something so true could sound so meaningless at the same time.
In this world
Did you tell me I
would be broken
when you made me
special
Did you call me
hopeless
when I begged for forgiveness
Because now I am
crawling
waiting for tomorrow
With a today so very
desperate
that yesterday is
hiding
There is no more point
here
I shout into the echo
But I can feel nothing
other than this burden
Special for your
weakness
Special for my
survival
Special is what kills
me
I cannot defy it
But I am sane and you are not
and here we are and there I was
when I cannot breathe out loud
lest you hear me moving
Far out of your orbit
spinning in slow
motion
Trying to shout louder
than a kitten’s
mewling
Will the planets find
me
all my silent crying
Now I can feel nothing
only my plates
shifting
Into old arrangements
nothing ever changes
If you could have loved
me
let me be ordinary
The world would have
opened
the stars would have
held me
But now I am so special
the goddess of your
nothing
What you poured inside
me
it was not for growing
It was all for killing
what was only dying
to be loved at all...
Tuesday, 18 October 2016
Suffocation
In this tidal wave of
failure
we sink
further into
our own unknown
drowning
with the
final question:
what else could we do?
A Slow Twisting Place, Chapter 43
Chapter 43 of A Slow Twisting Place is now available to read here. You can also use the same link to catch up with Chapters 1-42. Happy reading!
The Abduction Myth reviews
Delighted to read two genuine 5-star reviews for my novel, The Abduction Myth, on Amazon in two different countries! I didn't even realize the U.K. review had been posted, so it was a pleasant surprise, to say the least. A huge thank you to the reviewers!
U.S. Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01KI6XNJU
U.K. Amazon: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01KI6XNJU
So please do have a look at The Abduction Myth, it's on sale right now for $0.99/£0.99! You won't be disappointed.
U.S. Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01KI6XNJU
U.K. Amazon: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01KI6XNJU
So please do have a look at The Abduction Myth, it's on sale right now for $0.99/£0.99! You won't be disappointed.
Unexpected
I
buried the doll behind a tree. Just as I
was arranging some sticks and dead branches to camouflage the grave, a small,
champagne-colored mass of fur appeared from behind a bush.
Either it had no legs, or its legs were camouflaged by its fluff, because it barely cleared the ground as it walked over to me. It was impossible to feel afraid of the creature, though: something about it was strangely appealing, even if its head seemed
too large for its body, and its face was so flat that it almost curved inward.
The creature considered me with dark, globular eyes. I just stood there, uncertain, until it barked in a friendly sort of way. Only then did I realize it was a dog. “Hello,” I
said.
The
dog bared crooked teeth at me in a comical attempt at a smile.
“What
are you doing here?” I asked it.
The
dog snorted.
When
I then sniffled, drying the last of my tears with my sweater sleeve, the dog
shuffled over and gently head-butted my ankle.
I leaned over to pet it, which the dog seemed to like very much. Suddenly grateful, I kissed its head. It smelled like vanilla cake.
Monday, 17 October 2016
Inevitability
We are the paint
peel chipping.
Dangling over
the prickly
Waiting with an
eye
toward falling.
I wonder who I
will be
when I am cut
and
bleeding—
I wonder who I
will be
when I have
given up.
It is like the
blanking of
a color screen.
The bleaching of
forest
green carpeting.
Hold my hand for
just
a little while--
we are moving
and fading
on and on.
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