Sunday, July 21, 2019

magic trick 6-25-2000

Magic trick

Roughly tumble
The edges sharp
The darkness, ever so black
And ever so cold
Chaos
Screams
Fear
Tears
He reaches in
Holds out his hand
I reach and reach
And reach
But I am afraid of the light
It is so bright
The edges are smooth and flowing
He stays quietly
His hand open
I grasp it
And he pulls me
Out of the black hat

gone walkabout 7-11-2005

She stands amongst the ancient redwoods. The silence amplifying her sadness. To the edge of the cliff she inches, the warm sun penetrating the green canopy to warm her face.


When she feels the wind stir, she raises her hand and uncurls her fingers. The ashes take flight.


She smiles at the thought of him off on the great cosmic walkabout. Her heart aches, cause she wasn’t invited. Her sadness not for the time they spent together but rather for the time they would no longer have together.


The tears spill.


Funny we don’t meet people and size them up. We don’t think, ‘is this person worth the pain they will cause me when they part from my life?’  Our hearts just open and friends do the same. We meet each other half way. We lean in and on each other.


So much so that when one passes the other falls, no longer held up. It takes time to gain ones footing again.


Often we are left with a limp as we learn to walk again. But oh gosh…the treasures we give each other…to know…we are worth that type of pain. We are worth the pain.


There is no greater gift we can give or receive.


The tears spill.


She sits upon the dark soils and hangs her legs over the abyss, suddenly realizing that the ache in her heart is one last hug from him.

doin' nuttin (8-18-1997)

[This has a wicked shift tense in the  middle of it that I could never smooth out., which is why it’s been hiding all these years. This has been fun going old school. I can see why I abandoned most of these pieces. They stink. LOL.  But on the flip side, most are tiny gems I worked feverously to cut and polish. I can see where I was going with this, just couldn’t get it wield to my wishes.]

 {and I totally today would change 'nuttin'' to the more relaxed 'nuffin'}



Doin’ nuttin

Right in the middle of Dark Shadows mama steps in front of the TV and snaps it off. “Go outside and play.” She orders

Broone, Maria, Brotwo and Brothree and I simultaneously look behind us as if she was addressing some other children. We then look to Maria for her pre-teen guidance. She adjusts her brown cats eye glasses and raises one eyebrow and shrugs her shoulders.

“Go on, you’re not going to spend the whole summer watching TV.” She growls as she scoops up baby Brofour and holsters on her hip.

We reassemble on the front pouch and drape ourselves like limp dish towels over the railing.

“No TV” Broone mumbles, “There goes my WHOLE summer!”

The door squeaks behind us and Mama leans out, “Go a little FURTHER outside!”

“There’s nuttin’ to do.” Brothree sighs as he slithers off the porch into the pool of shade cast by the house.

After a few rounds of groans and whines, we reluctantly set off into the yard to do nuttin. Nuttin of course, when being done by five kids all under the age of twelve, generally consists of accumulating huge volumes of useless, nonsensical knowledge only fit for nincompoops and nearsighted neurosurgeons.


Things like: garden hoses make lousy lassos and rose petals no matter how long you chew them are never any good for blowing bubbles.

This day we were to learn a passel of sibling info that would come in handy for future reference like: No matter what your big brother says, it isn’t possible to jump from the garage roof UP to the house roof. Nor is it possible for him and your younger brother to catch you with a blanket as you plummet to earth.

Interesting things like…if you have your brother put his mouth over the end of the garden hose, you have nine seconds to wait before the water will travel the length of a fifty foot hose and blast him. Also handy info like…a wet brother can run fifty feet in less than four seconds.

Important things like, when trying a new diabolical experiment ALWAYS  use the youngest sibling, preferably the one who can’t yet form the sentence “I’m telling mama!”

We discovered important elements of the principals of quantum physics like: on a hot day, if you pee on the slide you’ll only get halfway down before you will come to a squeaky halt and be stuck.


And: how long you’ll “hang” in the air when you jump off the roof with a pillowcase for a parachute. Which interestingly enough is longer then if you use an umbrella.

And of course the reason why only tightrope walking became popular and the lesser known art of looserope walking never caught on.

And like: a pile of dry dirt with a running lawnmower placed on it will create a spectacular tornado!

Which of course gave us some insight into a rare medical condition known as ShinWeltie-ouchie, because flying rocks from a lawn mower twister will leave massive welts on your shins.

We were on the cutting edge of ground breaking medical /psychological research too. Discovering things like, a sow bug rolled up in their “pill” form will not unroll and crawl back up your throat if you  swallow them. Despite what your mother tells you.

Nothing will bring your mother to the winder quicker than hollering, “BUT I CAN’T FIND ALL HIS FINGERS!”

Oh the list goes on and on.

Like how many choruses of 99 bottles of beer you can sing in pig Latin before your mother’s face develops a permeant twitch.

Also good to know is that mayonnaise, black berries and chewed up walnuts makes very convincing fake puke, and four fingers is all you can fit in your nose at one.

Thought provoking things like: cats don’t like to dressed up, but dogs don’t mind as long as you put the pants on backwards so their tails hang out the fly.

We were in the process of converting the wheel barrow into an electric chair with parts from Brotwo’s bike, an old alarm clock and the lawnmower when Daddy pulled in from a long day at work.

“what are you all doing?” he ask as he heads for the house.

“Nuttin.” We mutter in unison.

“Well It’s dinner time, come inside.”

Ten minutes later mama leans out the door and calls out into the  dimming evening, “Come a little further inside!”

Thend

Saturday, July 20, 2019

Young Jody Alpha 12-16-1990

Young Jody Alpha 12-16-1990 (working tittle)


Young Jody Alpha with her hair of shimmering sunlight, peered through the chewed and rotten railings of the auction yard. Her huge blue eyes leaked salty tears not only from the stench of excrement covered animals, but from the tortured silent cries of dignity dying.

Her father placed a hand upon her shoulder and knelt next to her. “An awful shame these beasts  half to go through this.”

“Oh Pappa, lets buy them all and set them free.” She said without taking her eyes from the animals.

Casting a glance at the butchers and kill buyers he replied. “In a way Jody someone will.”

A towering white ghost of a horse walked unevenly through the knee deep mire and awkwardly thrust his ancient muzzle through the gap in the fence and smelled Jody and then drew it back in and began to chew on the rail in one last attempt to regain freedom.

“why does he limp so Pappa?” ask Jody reaching out a hand to stroke his stubbly one white nose.

He caught  her hand and returned it to her side. “He’s a pacer that is his natural gate….why I bet this old man was quite a racer in his day.”

Again she reached up a hand to touch the haunting apparition of a once great horse. Again her father caught her chubby hand and held it tight.

The sunken horse drew up his head and peered down at the child with one of his smoky blue eyes. For a few seconds, or an eternity, no one knows which, Jody’s heart beat in the primordial rhythm of racing hooves. Swept through a crack in time to join as one with this phantom pacer. Her hand rebelled against her father’s restraining grasp.

“Jody.” Her father said sternly, with his one word saying a speech.

“It’s okay Pappa!” she excitedly exclaimed “He’s come for me!”


…and  her eyes burned as the radiation blasted across the land. She blinked frantically to clear the gritty dust from her eyes only to drowned by the sickly sweet warm air…

There was seven of them, always seven, a number preordained  by voices long since hushed. Five of them perched on the edge of adulthood yet still tangled among the threads of childhood. And two of them immersed in the multi-hued world of childish wonder. None of them numbered past one decade and six years of age.

A group of highly skilled horsemen living in a time of half a reality half a fantasy. Time split in two different dimensions by the force of the modern civilized man…a nuclear reaction going supernova.  Causing earth ways to overlap and beings from one existence to spill over into a newly formed land of strangeness. It was as if the shadows had changed places with the sunlight.

They would call this new land Treekinin and within this world is where I dwell forever and ever always out of sync. My name has long since ceased to mean anything. They call me Jilinchi and I am the keeper of the dead. My form I’m free to change, yet I mostly stay within the form of a horse. A pure white mare with black Chackta burns around my eyes the radiation. The humans say my Chackta marks resemble the makeup of the ancient Egyptians. I laugh causing my Chackta marks to curl. I know not of what they speak, yet they know nothing of belly bands and Chando staffs. We have a lot to teach each other. Perhaps we’ll find we are the same.




There was seven of them, always seven. The eldest was Richards’s daughter, her name is Jacy. This child-woman was persistently followed by a brown pony tail bobbing in her wake. She was strong yet gentle and had a compelling aura about her. She is teetering on the edge of knowing and understanding….a place where many has fallen. She is the daughter of the impish MaryQueen, an alabaster beauty with raven black hair. Many a man has drowned in MQ’s beauty.

They tell me of my journey to become the keeper of the dead. The guardians of Always have spoken of a child called Jody who was summons by the phantom pacer with smoke-blue eyes. The pacer pulled me in through a leak in time and kept me from perishing in the searing heat of the blast, but in doing so my human body, unable to make the journey, was destroyed .  I was given the echo of the pacers form to dwell in forever more. I can transform myself to any creatures echo, even those that only exist in the minds of mad men.

There was seven, always seven. Then there was Jennifer. Small yet strong. Strawberry blond hair capped this tomboyish lass with violet eyes. In her nine years of living amongst us in this world she’d acquired the knowledge that all men dream about, yet dare not seek. Her mother a mortal mettling among the spirits has gifted her with the sense of Gumwallyea-dew, this is nothing for a child to possess.

  
We live in the land called Treekinin, who’s name nothing to those who will not listen. Surrounded and encased in a gelatinous dome made of sunlight and air and dust fused by the blast.


***********************************************************************************
End here unfinished. Dayammmmm, looks like I am a serial leave-um-hangin' writer.
This is actually an attempt to re-frame/rewrite my Novel The Children of Starr. It had morphed into a bloated beast that needed culling/pruning/amputating. I picked the angle of setting it all through the eyes of Jody/Jilinchi.