Archive for the ‘Not so true’ Category

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Over-prepared

February 24, 2011

They swore snow was coming. They believed in visions of the crystals dusting all the sidewalks, piling in the grass. The ones who had never seen snow, most particularly, dreamed of angels and balls.

But there was no frosting to be had, no plummet in temperatures that seemed any different than any other day.

They looked at their emergency supplies, their stockpiled food, their new parkas. They considered trips to the mountains. They wondered where they’d put their receipts. Finally, they went back to waiting for the Big One instead.

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The last car

February 20, 2011
The hurtling train carried, in each car, several people in love, several people alone, several people who wished they were alone. The sound of the wheels on the tracks raced like a heartbeat, and in the last car, a woman took her lover’s hand in hers. I need you to hear me, she whispered into his ear. I need you to ignore all the noise.

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Unprepared

February 18, 2011
She arrived unprepared for the weather, her shoes permeable, her clothing no protection. You haven’t stopped shivering since you got here, he said.

She eyed him from the corner, her body nervous as a hummingbird’s. She asked for tea, then honey. She asked for lemon, but he hadn’t been to the store.

When she fell asleep, he slipped off her waterlogged shoes and socks, exposing skin softened and wrinkled by the dampness. He held her feet, wrapped his fingers around her feather-soft arches. He decided he could sit there as long as it took for her to wake up.

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Lessons in steadiness

February 10, 2011

After so many years standing in that particular stream, she thought she would have become better at finding footing. Her bare toes still grasped at the same stones that slowly eroded underneath the current, but she never quite found the purchase she expected. It is hard to learn steadiness when the lessons float by like eddies, like leaves, when the lessons swim by quick as fish. She adjusted her feet again, holding her hands out to balance herself, her leg muscles quivering in anticipation of her own stability.

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Bitter as brew

January 14, 2011

They began fast as lightning, singeing too much of the air around them to be ignored.

I don’t like it, said the woman at the café, the one who made their beverages every afternoon. But everyone knew she was bitter as brew. She’d missed her bolt of possibility years ago.

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Conclusions

January 10, 2011
We killed the doves first. Elmer made sure we all had ear protection, then fired the sonic cannon he built in his garage. Feathered bodies rained down. It works! It works! we crowed, though we could only see each other’s lips move. 

Next, we tried fish. What else were we going to do with that truckload of pesticide? Besides, the surface of the creek was so pretty once the minnows floated up, undulating silverlike in the current.

The end of the world? the anchor asked.

Elmer chuckled. See? he said. I told you they’d jump to conclusions.

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Held whole

January 6, 2011

The day felt like stones in her pockets, and she could not help but sit awhile, watching the sky turn from pink to deep blue, watching the moon rise above the city. She had woken that morning expecting to see herself in the mirror, but instead, she peered at a mosaic, her face cracked into small squares and reassembled, glued, shellacked.

It was quiet there, as the sun set and the moon rose. It got colder after awhile, but she stayed, listening to her heart beating, hoping its thud-thud would not crack any of the mortar holding her whole.

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