writing

Three Angry Brother

Fear: writhing serpentine ineffectiveness slithers from your pores. Go deep, angry child. Father’s affection stings like the buzzing of a hot summer hive. Mother is soft, weak, an open sore. Go deep, angry young man.

In the heat of the night brother arrives home. His fists ache, his legs, from miles in his shoes, tremble. Above the whine of cicadas brother hears a chunk! chunk! staccato as he reaches for the door. Apprehension tingles at the bridge of his nose.

“Ahhhh,” cries father.

Brother tiptoes around the house aware of each blade of grass he crushes underfoot.

“Ahhh, hu hu hu,” cries father.

Chunk! Chunk! Chunk! Relentless is the shovel as it lacerates the innocent ground. Brother hurries back to the door and steps inside. He senses the absence of life all around and the silence grips his throat.

The hairs rising from his scalp precede brother up the stairs to his room. He slips closed the lock. Under the covers he shivers to the faint chunk! chunk!, rhythm to father’s lament.

For part four, click here.

Two Dear Mother

Bless the little ones for they cannot be helped. Seen through his eyes there is love; love is pain. Mother comforts the fragile. Frozen quick as zero’s sudden chill, life shatters, close your eyes. Hide from the pool’s crimson darkness. Bleed for them; in ways you always have.

Father sits at the kitchen table, rays of sun inspiring rainbows from the crystal of his tumbler. He contemplates the dark liquid inside: it clashes with the stench of bleach from mother’s cloth. The stinking cat is rubbing against his leg.

“Where is that little shit now?” asks father.

“He is at a friend’s house,” replies mother.

Mother doesn’t look at father. She keeps her right profile from his sight knowing the bruise will enrage him. Mother hopes boy has indeed gone to his friend’s house.

A door opens as though on cue.

“Lying to me again,” says father under his breath.

Father turns to boy.

“Why can’t you do as your mother expects of you?” father bellows.

Father scoops up the cat and throws it at boy, knocking boy off his feet.

For part three, click here.

One Poor Boy

Father’s love glitters enticingly like shards of glass. Reach out, poor little boy. Father reeks of love, for mother, for baby, for the liquid that consumes. Big brother has flown, anger in his wake. Draw back, poor little boy.

He’s eight years old and he’s rushing home from school in his uniform, his lunch bag tucked tightly under his arm. Because he stoops when he walks, the first thing he sees of brother are his shoes. He tries to step around them but a solid forearm contacts at the level of his chest. He pushes against it but it doesn’t budge.

“He’s home,” brother says.

“Where’s mom?” asks boy.

“Home too.”

Boy, more determined than ever, attempts to get around brother. This time he is held back by a hand, painfully grasping his arm.

“You can’t,” says brother.

“No, you can’t,” boy says bravely, stupidly, because he knows what is coming.

In broad daylight, with cars passing on the quiet street on the way home from school, brother passes on father’s lesson to boy.

For part two, click here.

Depression

Fold in
disconnect
no sun
warmth severs ties
nourishment
irrelevant
peace
a vacuum

JusJoJan 21 – Lioness

It’s a fact of science: bread cools quickly when it comes out of the toaster.

But she sits facing him at the kitchen table at breakfast time and thinks,
Look how weak he is that he allows his bread to cool before he butters it
I used to not see this about him
When we were first married I was so infatuated with him
Now he talks to me about ordinary things
Now I can see that he is less than ordinary – he is weak.
How could I not see his weakness back then?

A week later she had an affair.
A month later she was divorced.

Years have passed and she cannot find that perfect love again that she had at one time with her husband
She grows old but not regretful
For he was weak.
And weakness cannot be tolerated.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________
Post on your site, and join Just Jot it January. The rules are easy!

1. It’s never too late to join in, since the “Jot it” part of JusJoJan means that anything you jot down, anywhere (it doesn’t have to be a post) counts as a “Jot.” If it makes it to WordPress that day, great! If it waits a week to get from the sticky note to your screen, no problem!
2. If you write a JusJoJan post on your blog, you can ping it back to the above link to make sure everyone participating knows where to find it.
3. Write anything!
4. Have fun!

JusJoJan 11 – Wasted

atsushisakurai.duumal1

Your songs

make wasted

look damned

good.

 

__________________________________________________________________________________________________

 Post on your site, and join Just Jot it January. The rules are easy!

1. It’s never too late to join in, since the “Jot it” part of JusJoJan means that anything you jot down, anywhere (it doesn’t have to be a post) counts as a “Jot.” If it makes it to WordPress that day, great! If it waits a week to get from the sticky note to your screen, no problem!
2. If you write a JusJoJan post on your blog, you can ping it back to the above link to make sure everyone participating knows where to find it.
3. Write anything!
4. Have fun!

 

Cloud Child

Found you
in a cloud
I could
have missed you
For you were
but mist
But my eyes
focused at
the last second
And there you were
and I smiled
and held
your hand
for but
a moment
and then again
you were gone
from the cloud
From this world

I miss you
as though
you were really here

Tattoo

She walks along at a decent clip

The snow whips her hair

And stings her face

Like the tattoo of a wasp

being drawn, wings spread

across her cheekbones.

But she would rather imagine

it is the five o’clock shadow

of her lover

sandpaper-scratching

her face as they kiss.

As she walks he approaches

His face, with his time-expectant growth

Lightens the wind’s swirl

And caught up in his embrace

The tattoo of waspy stinging snow

Succumbs to naught.

JusJoJan 2 – All In a Night’s Work

Here at the Juicy Juice Factory, we provide the best of the best. Our products are full of vitamins and more vitamins. In fact, if you drink just two glasses of our “Extra C” you’ll see a noticeable improvement!

Just tonight, in fact, my good friend Jason was complaining of a throbbing eye. I suggested he try some of our “Chock Full of Minerals.” Jason said no. He prefers wine. What Jason doesn’t know is that I spiked his wine with a dash of “Banish Those Donkey Nuts,” so tomorrow he’s sure to have a better day.

Let’s see how he makes out! Stay tuned to HarsH ReaLiTy and join me in wishing Jason no more of the same balls of fun he had today!

Post number 2 of Just Jot it January. Go to my main blog and join in! http://lindaghill.wordpress.com/2014/01/01/jusjojan-1-the-rules-are-easy/

delicious

i should have known
you would burn

your 350º heat
sizzled

beneath my
fingers

but i couldn’t
resist you

you wanted me
me!

who was i to
say no

here i lay
baking

singed at the
edges

and all there is
left

of you are
crumbs

and a photograph
and

my sugary delicious
memories

of your hot hot
love