She rose from her chair and walked to the window, trembling. The rain still pattered down upon the sill yet the thunder had long ago ceased its grumbling. The sky had begun to lighten. He had promised, he had said he’d be there before the end. But that was hours ago now. Her phone was silent and still. She turned her back on the window and went over to the coffee table and lit the candle. The room was clean of course, though she still let her eyes dart to all the corners to verify for the seventeenth time. Why did it matter though? She did not know how this conversation would go, this face to face. She sometimes stumbled with her words and he always seemed so confident. Perhaps this time her words would be clear and her face would be calm. Perhaps this time she would know what to say in the moment. But what would he say? Would he approach in humility and purpose? Or would he come full of himself and hollow of all else? Her insides writhed and she sat down on the edge of the sofa. She didn’t know what she wanted. She looked over at her phone on the chair. It had lit up. She couldn’t see from that angle if it was him. She rose slowly to her feet and swallowed once. Then outside footsteps and his profile at the window as he passed. There were flowers in his hand.
Tag: short
Panhandle
To create is to breathe is to let loose a thought a prayer into the winds of time.
I pray now and ask for such grace as might be given one who longs to pen words that point to farther glories and future songs. I pull up my small kayak to the shore and jump out, wetting my shorts in the process. I wade to the shore as I heave the kayak aside me. Do you see the sun setting over the wind-blown palms? It shall be dark soon, this I know. But for now, there is still light to see by. And enough light to even scribble a few words before their memory puffs away. Once written, the pages shall be kissed and sealed. I will then trudge up the dunes to approach the house that lays on the other side. Perhaps dinner shall be waiting, a simmering pot of tomato sauce perhaps, scents of oregano and parsley when I open up the kitchen door. For now though, in the last glimmerings of summer’s sun, I pen what my muse whispers in my ear and I wonder if the words tomorrow will look as good as they sound now. Who can say, who can say. I’ll let future me be the judge. For now, I breathe deep of wood-smoke and smile in repose. If one looked at me now, they’d see green eyes shimmering in the light of heaven’s touch. I have no other longing this night than what I whisper now under my breath. There are some myths that are true, do you know?
New Autumn
The last thing she wanted to do was flip that switch.
The warning siren warbled at an even higher intensity and the cockpit lights dimmed ominously.
Jasmine raked her hands through her hair and glared daggers at the navigation panel and refused to believe it would all end like this. No more time for hesitation though. She reached over to the awkwardly positioned and boldly lettered ejection lever and caressed it for a brief second before giving it a firm flick. The restraining belts snapped into place as her head was slammed backwards. There was a song of screeching metal and gasping wind and flashes of lights across the sky in purest symphony of calamitous fate. And then her eyes rolled back in her head and she only had the time for briefest thought. Home sweet home. Blackness.
******
Why was it so light outside? Had she missed her alarm? And why was there a giant tree root jabbing her insistently? Wait, tree roots were in her bed?
Hazy waking up thoughts fled as Jasmine bolted upright. Coughing violently, she looked around wildly. Grass stains on her jumpsuit and the taste of blood in her mouth. Yet, it was beautiful. The sun – the sun! – shone down on her like a mother’s smile. The trees swayed magnanimously around the meadow she had apparently ended up in. Leaves of red and orange and yellow fluttered down as the wind sighed around her. Jasmine supposed she could have landed somewhere worse. And it appeared all her limbs were functional. Mostly. She pushed up against the soft grass and lurched to her feet. Wavering, she looked up. Blue sky. Never, never had sky looked so beautiful. She took a few steps across the meadow, limping as she went. Everything hurt. She didn’t even want to see the bruises she’d ended up with. But she was alive. Alive.
Her ejection pod was still slightly smoking a few meters away. It had done its job and delivered her safely down. She should probably retrieve her survival gear and weapons, but for now…
Jasmine wobbled around the grass like a toddler learning to walk and marveled in the feel of the sun upon her skin. It was so warm. So real. Her pale skin soaked in the heat and Jasmine sighed in joy. What a wonderful planet. What a wonderful world. She should probably scout out the area and set up camp, but…
A piercing cry echoed across the sky. Jasmine’s head jerked up. They were here. No more time to rest. She walked towards the pod, determination in her limp. There was work to do. Her destiny was at hand. There were enemies to slay.
Something Weird 