The quiet of my solitude
comforts me in ways that no one can
And yet, you
My self longs for peace
for happiness, for contentment
But, you
How can I cry real tears
heavy against my heart
My, you
Yet not in my life
you haunt my past
My future, you.
Day 3 Prompt on The Community Storyboard – Pre- 1950s.
This is my story.
Liz and Henry were as childless as a couple could be, meaning they’d been trying for years, but according to the doctors, Henry’s ‘swimmers’ just weren’t up to the task. They’d been living on the farm for a few years, raising goats and chickens, but as the years passed, so did the chances that they’d be raising young ‘uns.
One day, as Henry limped over to the trough that held the goat’s water (Henry had twisted his ankle the day before when he slipped in goat shit) he noticed that his bucket was getting lighter as he walked.
“Shit,” he said out loud.
“What is it?” Liz asked, making Henry jump. He hadn’t heard her sneak up behind him.
“Would you please announce yourself instead of scaring the bejeesus outta me?”
The tension between the couple had been rising like an snail on a year long sabbatical meaning to get up a mountain, but Henry was almost at the peak. He was this far away from dashing back down the hill.
“Sorry,” Liz mumbled. “So why’d you say ‘shit’?
“There’s a hole in my bucket,” Henry grumbled.
“So fix it.”
“With what?”
“I don’t know. A straw.”
Henry stood, water dripping from the leaky bucket onto the sock which encased his sore ankle, and glared at his wife.
“What the fuck does that even mean?”
“I don’t know, I heard somewhere that you can fix a bucket with a straw,” she shrugged.
“But it doesn’t make any sense!” Henry took note that his voice was reaching a soprano pitch and made the effort to bring it down. “How in the hell can I fix a bucket with a goddam straw?”
“I dunno. Here,” at that point she pulled a paper wrapped McDonald’s straw from her back pocket and handed it to him. “It’s all I’ve got on me anyway.
“Fold it over or something and stick it in the hole.”
“Whatever,” Henry grumbled, plucking the straw from her fingertips and heading back to the barn with it.
“What if it’s too long?” he called over his shoulder.
“Cut it!”
He could almost hear her eyes rolling around in her head.
Bitch, he thought.
Five minutes later Liz came into the barn. She stopped by him to see what he was doing.
“How’s that cutting coming along?”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?”
It was a McDonald’s straw. It shouldn’t be taking five minutes to get through with a hammer.
“Um… no. Why don’t you use a knife?”
“Oh for fuck sakes. The knife is dull!”
“It can’t be any duller than a hammer.”
She was staring at him. He hated it when she stared at him that way. It made him feel stupid.
Liz sighed as if she was tired. Of him. Yeah, well he was getting tired of the whole, ‘Make me a baby or I’m leaving you,’ too. She whined it in his head at least fifteen times a night while he was trying to get to sleep.
“Why don’t you sharpen the knife?”
Henry felt the blood pressuring up in his veins like someone had pumped a shitload of heat through his pores and inflated him like a balloon.
“Because,” he growled, turning on her with his eyes bulging from their sockets, “the sharpening stone I have here,” he held the object an inch from her nose, “is too fucking dry!”
She looked him right in the eye. Without blinking, hell, without batting a friggin’ eyelash, she said, “Wet it.” Just like that.
Henry lost it.
“Wet it? FUCKING WET IT? I’LL FUCKING WET YOU!!!”
Nine months later their son was born.
“How does your chain mail feel?” I ask him from the driver’s seat.
“It’s heavy,” he scowls.
*****
It all started one day when I was sitting in the parking lot of a Tim Horton’s, eating ham and Swiss cheese on a croissant with lettuce and tomato. I was half-way through my sandwich when I heard a knock on the back window of my mini-van. I thought at first that maybe it was someone I knew. I looked in both side mirrors to see if someone was approaching the front of the car but I saw no one on foot. When I looked in the rear-view however, there he was. Needless to say I jumped – I’d thought I was alone.
“What are you doing in my car?” I shrieked at the diminutive green man in my farthest back seat. I hopped out of the van before he could answer, which was silly, because I’d left my keys in the ignition. When I reached in through the window to retrieve them he spoke.
“You asked for me!”
“I did what? Who are you?”
He puffed up his chest and gave me a wide multi-cuspate-toothed smile. “I am your prince charming!” His sharply pointed ears twitched and his finely pronged nose lifted as he said this. He was obviously quite proud of his appearance.
“But you don’t look a bit like a prince charming to me!”
“I don’t?”
“You’re green!”
“Oh my!” he exclaimed, and he disappeared.
****
Three days later I heard a knock on the window of my van. I was driving at the time.
“I can’t look right now,” I said, because I was concentrating on the road.
“That’s okay,” came the same voice I had heard from the little green elf-like man.
As soon as I came to a stop light I tilted my head so I could see into the farthest back seat of the car. He wasn’t there. The light turned green. I started driving.
“Pull over,” he said.
“You’ll have to wait.” I was getting annoyed at this strange being I’d been anticipating for three long days.
Just as I got to a driveway, I heard, from directly behind me.
“Oh dear. I’m still a bit green.”
By the time I pulled over I was alone.
***
It was two weeks before I heard the knock on the back window of my van again. I had just pulled into the parking lot of the local mall, and was looking for a spot. It was raining heavily and I lacked an umbrella, but I needed drugs. From the drug store for a change.
“Are you still green?” I asked.
“No.” His voice was as smooth as silk and as deep as dark chocolate.
I found a spot and backed in, hoping for a glimpse of my prince charming. When I put the van in park I saw him leaning between the front seats, in my rear-view mirror. He was stunning. Everything I had ever imagined in a man and… that voice…
“I’m yours to do with whatever you wish.” 70% Cocoa.
“Stay here then, I just have to run in…” The store was about to close.
“I also belong to your van,” he disclosed in a timbre fit for only the bedroom.
“What the…”
“I can’t leave your van.”
“So what’s the use of having a prince charming?”
“We can go parking.”
When I came back from the drug store he was gone.
**
“Why do you even bother with the chain mail?” I ask him.
“I failed as a prince charming, I thought maybe you’d like a knight in shining armor.”
“Well there was that one time…” We’re at a stop sign. I look in the mirror and see the grin I’ve come to love more than life itself.
“That was fun,” he smirks.
“Why can’t we do that again?” I ask, starting to move down the street.
“Because regardless of what you want, you NEED a knight in shining armor now.”
“What for?” I ask.
*
I open my eyes and there is a light shining above me. Florescent. A face with a mask.
“How are you feeling?” I masculine voice with raised, groomed, eyebrows.
“My van…” I croak. I barely recongise my own voice.
“Ma’am, your van was totalled. You’re lucky to be alive.”
“No!” I screech.
I want to die.
My mind is a playground full of weird and wonderful toys. People. People are my toys to play with. They are my puppets. I am the puppet master, that’s what I am. My control is complete and the utter trash that I spew is unrivaled.
I am not God. I’m not a deity of any kind. I am Lord of my self-absorption. My will encompasses millions upon millions of souls and they aren’t even sure I exist.
I am a ghost. I have no empathy for the living.
I am Ouija. And I am bored.
One – the Art of Dori Hartley
You say you’ve been with me all along, and now I know it’s true.
I saw you for the first time in a magazine, when I was four.
You were my imaginary friend
Though I wasn’t aware I had One.
I saw you today.
You answered me.
You sauntered down those steps and you smiled
Your hands in your pockets
Like you’d been there all along
But I suppose you have… haha
Yes
Now I know I shall see you everywhere
Acknowledging my accomplishments
Pushing me to face my fears
And you always by my side
And at night, when I ready myself for sleep
There will be you
Playing chopsticks
Incessantly
I thought I’d participate in my own writing prompt on The Community Storyboard. Check out the prompt and submit!
Close your mind, if you have to
But don’t forget
That there is me out here
And that I love you
(Yes, I love you too.)
Shut me out, if need be
Ignore my pleas
For attention because
You must need me, don’t you?
(Sure, okay.)
Tune me out, if I speak too loud
I’m just wanting
Some love from you
Because I love you so much
(I get it, just give me some time.)
Just leave me alone then
You obviously don’t love me
You can’t be bothered with me
I’ll just die alone
(FUCK OFF!)
English: Single black and white feather (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
The timbre of your voice
Rings sweetly
Touches my soul
With vibrations of ages ago
How I know your Love
blesses my spirit
I hear it surround me
Divine wishes, whispered from afar
Within your strings
Rides purity of sound
Set your gentle voice upon my heart
Sing to me forever more
L. G. Hill
@March 25, 2005
10:11pm
Linda G. Hill 