In the Dark

 Subconscious shields the waking self.

Secrets trapped in dreams

escape bit by bit.

Images emerge from static;

candlelight and mirrors,

reflections of some truth that

eludes understanding.

Heart pounds as eyes open.

Another day in the dark.

Following the Light

Josie sits in her rocker facing the east window. She gave up trying to sleep in bed, her aching hip and lower back making it impossible, and it was too early to start chores.

So she sits. And rocks. And admires the stars in the dark, vast sky spreading over her snow-covered fields, the same fields that would remain unplowed now that Jesse had left her.

She pricks up her ears. A noise from one of the kids’ rooms upstairs. But it is so early it has to be the wind pushing through a window whose seal had failed years ago.

How many times had she and Jesse sat in this room, facing this window, watching the sky and the land? Too many to count on her arthritic hands. Sometimes, when she forgets he is gone, she catches glimpses of him at the kitchen sink, feeding the chickens, mending a fence, or bent to some other task in the yard.

She shakes her head. No. Not here. Gone forever. The stars twinkle.

She still needs to make lunches for the kids to carry with them to school. Jeanne doesn’t like mayonnaise on her ham sandwich but Benny does. He likes carrot sticks and Jenny prefers an apple. On special occasions they get an oatmeal raisin cookie as a treat.

When Josie was a young girl, her mother always told her to eat what the good Lord provided and to be grateful for it. Didn’t she know there were children starving? It might have been the end of the Great Depression, but the lessons learned during that lean time stayed with her.

 A chirp from her portable phone ends Josie’s reverie. Jeanne sent it to her for Christmas last year. Josie doesn’t understand how to work the darned thing so it stays plugged in and untouched on the kitchen counter, a paper weight for the stack of bills that she can no longer be bothered to pay. She prefers to stick with the phone wired to the mustard yellow living room wall. The lines go down from time to time and even when a call can squeeze through it is rife with so much static that it might as well be coming from Mars, but she knows how to operate it and it is good enough for her.

A small ball of distant white light speeding from the heavens toward the horizon captures Josie’s attention. Maybe there is a meteor shower?

When she and Jesse first married, they stood in their north field watching the Lyrids, their young faces pinked with cold and raised to the sky, as though it were a fireworks display just for them. They had no idea of what life had in store for them but in that moment, they had the security of each other’s warmth and the beauty of nature. Loneliness, illness and old age couldn’t even be considered on a night that held such mystic beauty.

Another ball of light descends outside Josie’s window, following what seems to be the same path. And another. And another. And another.

She calls to her husband, Jeanne and Benny as she opens the door to investigate, the cold barely registering on her slippered feet and bare hands as she steps out. The field beyond the yard lays unbroken in knee deep snow. She walks on, following the light.

Six Word Stories

Doves gorge on seed; hawk satisfied.

Rabbit eats my garden. Hasenpfeffer dinner.

Wanted: Children with taste for gingerbread.

Secondhand coffin for sale. Barely used.

Exercise club: Pay now. Ignore later.

Man In the Green Suit

 Maggie arrived late for work, her purse and laptop bag dangling from her right arm. The elevator was empty as it dinged its way past the third, fourth and fifth floors where it paused to admit a small man wearing a sea green checked suit jacket with a green carnation in the button hole and solid sea green bell bottom pants. He nodded cordially as he entered the lift and stood facing her during the remainder of the ride to the 12th floor. When the door slid open he turned smartly and marched past Rita the receptionist's desk.

"Good morning Maggie," Rita chirped. "How was your weekend?"

"It was alright," Maggie replied. "Hey Rita, did you see the man who got off the elevator with me?"

"No honey. I thought it was just you."

Maggie took her messages from Rita's outstretched hand as she passed, curious where the green-clad man had gone. She peeked into each office as she strolled down the hallway but didn't see him.

She turned down the corridor to the left and there he was. He stood below the window at  the end of the hallway tapping a familiar rhythm on the wall. Her mouth fell open in surprise when a door opened and the man stepped in, winking at her over his shoulder as the door closed behind him. Maggie rushed to the end of the hallway and repeated the rhythm. The door opened and inside she could see a series of cubicles and further back a bank of busy machines. Faint whirs and buzzes wafted toward the door.

The buzzing grew louder and Maggie's eyes opened wide. The alarm clock beside her bed sounded to wake her for work. Another Monday. And another strange dream. Maggie sat up and swung her legs over the side of her bed.

She shuffled to the bathroom, never noticing the green carnation on the floor in the hall. 

From the Well

 We tried again. Lowered 

the bucket down the well. 

This time, he climbed atop. 

Grasped the rope and held 

on, feet occasionally

 bouncing off the continuous 

rough rock wall around him. 

 

But this time, this time 

his toes didn't wedge 

between the rocks to hold 

him against our straining 

up top, pulling with all 

our might. The higher 

 

he rose toward our voices 

and the pale sky, the lighter 

he became. Maybe this time 

he would cast off the bricks 

and boulders he'd been carrying 

that kept him at the bottom 

of the well. Maybe this time 

he would make it to the light. 

Poignancy Wafflebottom

The saloon doors slammed open to reveal a buxom woman silhouetted against the fading sun. In truth, this woman was well padded not just above the waist, but also below, such that an hourglass would pale by comparison.

She squinted into the smoky room, lifting one corner of her upper lip and revealing a ragged set of brownish teeth. She snorted and spit a wad of tobacco and phlegm with perfect trajectory into the spittoon situated next to Wide Burp with such force that it jangled his spurs.

Burp tipped his hat back to get a better look at the newcomer, unveiling an enormous proboscis and a lazy eye. His good eye locked upon the figure in the doorway and an involuntary intake of air nearly sucked the flame from the candle on his table.

Burp quickly stood, shoulders back, chest out, and belly sucked in as much as was humanly possible.

“Ma’am.” He tipped his hat flirtatiously. “Won’t you join me?”

She paused for a moment, looking into his good eye (his lazy eye wandered up and down her form), before sashaying over and placing her enormous gloved hand onto his extended palm.

“Wide Burp, at your service.” A slight bow accompanied his words.

“Poigancy Wafflebottom,” she replied in a sultry baritone, giving his hand a bone-crunching squeeze. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Burp knew his life would never be the same. But he was instantly head over heels in love (or was it lust) with Poignancy Wafflebottom, and there was no going back. She was his destiny.

Emergency Room Slide

I stand outside his room

my back to the wall.

 

Hospital staff walk by.

Some push equipment

others chat in strolling pairs

None of them look at me.

 

Their eyes slide past.

I am not a person here.

Just a figment attached

to a room number

and its patient in distress.