Time's Puzzle
Written for Sunday 160
Fall To Pieces by Tonyx
The key to the puzzle lies within my veins. Many have tried to sever my flesh from time’s altar. I’ve risen from each burial, laughing at their failed attempts.
Read more...Sunday, October 23, 2011
Written for Sunday 160
Fall To Pieces by Tonyx
Friday, October 21, 2011
Back To Writing
Delgado Zellini are happy to announce that after a short hiatus, they are working on The Garret, their first novel, as well as a book of flash fiction and short stories.
Read more...Thursday, October 20, 2011
What Was I Thinking?
"You're not going to waste the entire week sitting around. As long as you're visiting you'll pull your weight."
I was starting to rethink my plans of ever accepting grandma's invitation. I've forgotten how much of a grouch she is but I didn't want to share that my true reason for visiting was to see if Sarah O'Connor was still around. We went to the same high school before I moved east. Nobody knew how to brighten my day like Sarah.
I remembered how Sarah and I would sit on the hilltop and listen for the ambulance sire to come rushing into town--especially during the community parade. Someone was always being carried away to the hospital for something. Most folks blamed their sickness on a local named Erma Washington. Her blackberry pies were deadly. Some complained about severe stomach cramps but many others were carried away to Creek County Hospital.
"Are you still sitting here?" Grandma's voice breaks my concentration. "Well Josh, why don't you take this basket of bread to the Parker's residence up the street, past the windmill. I gather any minute now her old man will be home and wanting to eat. You know he's manager now, don't you?"
Sighing, "I don't really remember where he works, grandma."
"Sure you do. Remember the little tool shop where you and that girl use to steal candy from?"
"Terry's Hardware Shop," I smiled. "He had the best caramel in town."
"Well, now," she exhaled. "You do remember something."
I'll remember to stay home next time, I thought, frowning.
"There might be hope for you after all," grandma continued teasing.
I fought to ignore her little smart remark. I've always disregarded them. The only person I want to know about is Sarah and yes, we stole candy. We stole a ton of candy and ran to the fields to eat them. That was our secret. Wonder how grandma knew about it.
"So, grandma...whatever happened to the O'Connor's?" I watched while grandma placed warm bread slices neatly inside a cloth before placing them into a woven basket.
"Well, now, let me think. You know George and Mary O'Connor got a divorce right?"
I didn't know about the divorce but I said yes just so she wouldn't spend the next hour explaining what had happened. "Yes, you mentioned that earlier," I swallowed.
"Oh ok, well Mary, that old crow, she was always cheating on him anyway. The divorce was bound to happen, you know. Now, the kids all grew up and moved into the city. Mark married a cute young lady named Amanda and Brenton, well, he's always been a rebel. He's still in jail."
"What about Sarah?" I interrupted.
Where did I put the apple butter?" grandma muttered.
I rolled my eyes and kept quiet. Sometimes talking to grandma is like talking to a damn wall. I figured Sarah had probably moved on like everyone else.
I took the basket of bread and slowly walked out the door. I can see the Parker's residence as I neared the windmill. I lowered my head to the gravel road. I could feel my heart dropping as I became certain this trip was a sure waste. I kicked a few rocks and took in a deep breath.
When I finally reached my destination, I walked up the stairs and knocked on the door. Of course, no one answered, so I peeked into the living room window. I saw nothing and heard nothing--except the echoing voice of my grandma ringing in my head. There might be hope for you after all.
I took a seat on the porch swing next to a potted sunflower. I guess I'll wait, I thought, while gazing at the hilltop, smiling. Sarah and I would race to the top everyday after school and throw rocks into the town street right below, sometimes breaking windows. Poor Mr. Marks. He made the best brownie cookies in the world. Sarah would tell me it wasn't our fault for breaking his window and that his baker was just in the wrong place. It was difficult explaining to him, the first time, that were aiming for the stop sign. I'll never forget the punishment from grandma. Even though it was Sarah's rock. I took all the blame. It was worth it. She kissed me for the first time.
A voice whispered from outside of the house, "Is that for me?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't think anyone was home." I couldn't see a soul I just heard a voice, so when I walked down the stairs to meet Mrs. Parker, my mouth dropped open.
"Well, don't just stand there. Give me a hug, Josh."
Sarah!" I bellowed before embracing, almost dropping the basket.
"What? I mean...my grandma told me this was..."
"Well, Josh, after the Parker's left town I bought their house."
I said nothing. I concentrated on her voice and her beautiful smile. So many memories ran through my mind while listening. She's still as beautiful as ever. Her brown hair was shorter but perfectly framed her oval face. She was a little heavier and more inviting than before.
"I always ask your grandma about you. I often give her rides into town."
"Well, I have to give my grandma some credit. She can be nerve racking but she means well." My voice crackled a bit, still spellbound by her beauty. I felt a rush running through my head and fought hard to maintain my composure.
"How long are you staying?" Sarah asked.
"For a week," I smiled, still mesmerized.
"Long enough to catch up on things," she added.
I didn't know what to say, so like an idiot I stood there grinning and staring at her dimples. We both spent most of the evening catching up while eating bread and drinking iced tea.
I had a feeling she too knew I was coming. I suppose grandma hasn't lost her touch after all. Seems as if I'll be making frequent trips to check up on her...now that I know Sarah is doing well. Thanks grandma.
Read more...Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Strawberry Rush
I'm missing little Eva and Amber Rae. This weekend they're with their father. You would think I'd enjoy a little rest and relaxation but some parents, such as myself, would rather hear the screaming, fighting, laughing and fussing over which vegetables are better tasting with melted cheese than sit here in this big quiet house alone for two days. I haven't had the energy to enjoy much of anything since our divorce but the twins keep me quite entertained.
Saturday, noon--normally I'd be fighting Eva to comb her hair--her pretty raspberry hair. That's one good trait she did inherit from her father. Amber got his freckles and my dimples. Actually, I'm a bit shocked Raymond didn't bail out on the girls again like he did last weekend. Since it rained, the three of us danced around the house putting on our own concert. Of course, a show is incomplete without Amber's tiny feet prancing around inside my size eight dress shoes--and I bet my shoes are still in her room.
"I don't know how many times I've told Eva to hang up her jacket and put away her toys. I think I'll leave them on the stairs along with her crayons leading all the way to her bedroom."
Mom sits on Eva's bed, smiling and staring over at a sun-lit corner where a large white teddy bear sits. The wind blows softly through an open window, dressed with a light, pink, sheer curtain. Pretty silk bows are tied neatly at each side.
"Looks like Eva forgot her gloss--Amber likes the bubble-gum," she mumbles while thinking. "I remember wearing gloss in high school. I always wore a gloss. I think I still have some in my room, somewhere."
As mom walks down the hall nearing her own bedroom, she stops at a gold framed, hallway mirror and slowly glides a little gloss over her puffy lips while taking in the fruity scent. Blushing, she drops the gloss and buries her face in her palms, grinning.
"Oh my God--this the same flavor I wore on my first date with Raymond." She giggles as her tongue rubs over her bottom lip sampling the inviting, memorable scent that brings her back to her high school days.
"He always complimented my eyes, too," she whispers while walking into her bedroom, searching her closet and pulling out a large tapestry cosmetic bag. Her face stretches to grin while layering coats of black mascara. While observing her transformation, a burst of energy quickly spreads throughout her body. Grabbing her purse, she bolts downstairs and out the door.
"I'm going in today," she whispers. "Normally I would sit here and wait for him to bring the girls out but no more." Leaning into the rear view mirror, she checks her make-up and glides on a little lip gloss--strawberry.
"Mara!" exclaims Raymond, scanning her up and down.
"Hello Raymond," Mara smiles. "Are my girls ready?"
Raymond, still mesmerized by Mara's appearance, is standing with his jaws slightly dropped.
"Raymond, is there something wrong?" Mara asks, looking over his shoulders.
"Mara, you look beautiful," still observing.
"Oh, thanks Ray." Trying not to grin, she fluffs her now cut, auburn and black striped colored hair while flashing her French manicure. The girls run toward the front door calling for their mother. Bending over, "Hey girls, did you have fun with dad this weekend?"
"Mommy, you look so pretty!" The girls smile and run to the car.
"Thanks again, Raymond. I'm glad we were able to work out a schedule for the girls."
"Mara," Raymond pauses, lowering his eyes. "I know we separated over our differences but what's not to say we could try again?" his voice quivers.
"Ray, I think it's best this way. You know it as well as I do. You cannot submit to only one woman and I'm not going through the battle again." I lean in to give Raymond a hug and kiss the corner of his mouth. "I'll always love you but I'm not in love with you," Mara explains.
As she ends her embrace, Raymond gently grabs onto her arms, "Wait," his eyebrows wrinkled. "What is that?"
Lowering her eyes, trying not to grin, "What is what?"
"That flavor--it's familiar," he says, trying to remember.
"I--I have to go. The girls are waiting." She takes Raymond by the hand and places the lip gloss into his palms before walking back to the car and driving off.
Mom and her daughters played in the back yard that evening. The girls made a floral arrangement from the flowers in the garden. They plan to take it to their dad next weekend. Later, after everyone showered, the three watched movies while eating pizza and popcorn--well, Amber did. Eva took the comb to mom's hair over and over, although she wouldn't let anyone comb hers. The butter from her tiny hands helped the comb glide through with ease.
Who would of thought the scent of strawberry lip gloss and a trip down memory lane would help regain life to a once shattered woman.
Read more...Sunday, April 18, 2010
Grandpa's Farm
I knew the meaning of freedom at the age of four. A hard lesson I learned on grandpa’s farm. He used to trap birds in a netted funnel. Well, that’s what I called it anyway. I used to sit and watch them for hours, fluttering around inside. My ears were amazed at the loud shrilling sounds they used to make. My imagination would run wild, picturing my grandpa, the great hunter of birds.
One August evening, while resting on the back porch, my grandma told me a story. A history lesson of sorts about our family. She spoke of her mom and dad, their struggles. How they fought adversities while remaining faithful to their goal - a better life for their children.
My grandma was born in Russia. At the age of 12, the family immigrated to America. She said they ‘rode the wings of freedom, like a bird soaring towards Heaven’. All night, that line ran through my head.
The call of the rooster woke me early the next morning. I made my way to the backyard, opening the barn doors. There they sat, nine birds - caged. Without hesitation, I picked up the funnel and made my way to the street. My grandparents found me 15 minutes later. It was all over at that time.
They asked me why I did it. I told them grandma’s story made me think. How can we soar towards Heaven like the birds? Wouldn’t we have to ride their wings? They looked down at me with a smile and carried me back to the house.
I still make a yearly trip to my grandparents house. It’s empty now, they’ve passed on. Now 25, I tell myself that I was just a child back then - young, innocent. Wide-eyed, full of imagination. But the lesson I learned that night still lingers. Freedom is something everyone should have no matter how old or young. Regardless of race, religion.
Sitting on the back porch, I look towards the sky and smile. Birds soaring towards Heaven. No longer caged, once again tasting freedom.
Read more...
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