And that is where the trouble always begins.
He pushes away, but not at first, then pulls her into his car.
She stares at the heat surging from the dashboard blowers and
warms her fingers against them, teeth chattering, eyes silent
with despair that jerk to life with a terrified glance over her shoulder.
But there is nothing outside in the world waiting to get her. The
young man stares at her with wonder and his finger touches his lips
still wet from her kiss. "Do I know you?" he wonders aloud, looking
hard at her face, trying to remember. "No," is all she says. "But there is time."
He did not ask further for he considered her delusional and near death and
shifts the transmission into drive. "Don't leave," whispers the dusty, invisible
voice. The young man slams on the brakes. "Did you hear that?" terrified he
demands she answer. "Yes they are fearsome and intend things I do not
understand." "No, that voice telling us not to leave," Sadly her head shakes,
her eyes once again well with tears. "That is the problem. They never do."
With a pull of the door handle she pushes out into the frozen white night.
He makes no effort to stop her so paralyzing is his fright. Standing at the
door she turns back to him. "Help me!" she begs, her voice thin yet demanding
and with that she shuts the door. Wind gusts and sheets of tiny ice particles
slam against the car windshield making a swishing sound and the young man
rubs the steam from the windows and through the swish of the storm sees
no sign of her. Suddenly his car engine stops The heaters once blowing hot
now ice cold as though frozen in time and he rubs his cold fingers across the
passenger seat. Snow from her slight shoulders gone, as though never there
and his face contorts as his head spirals down against the steering wheel.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
BURNING SNOW.3
"they are a part of you. All is all and that is that." She counters with her own
misleading confusion. "All is all and that is that?" I tell you now they are my
family and friends and I want them to go away. The voice presses down upon her
and the winds pick up and she cannot tell from the energy in the air if the voice is
there to hurt or enlighten. "How is it you want me to speak? What does it matter
the things I desire, the fears that I have?" She turns to go, her bare feet now bloody
in the white snow and the swirling funnels still stinging her legs. None of it makes
sense as she studies the hole in the old oak tree into which they all escaped and
wonders was this simply a nightmare gone worse. Something she ate earlier that day.
But what was earlier? Nothing comes to mind, and she grabs her head that shakes like
a flag in the brutal wind, and runs. Through the trees, down the road and into the
oncoming headlights of a single car, not traveling so fast for the weather prohibited,
and a sensible young man jumps out and grabs her by the arms. "Miss, Miss are you
okay? Are you harmed? She shakes, her tears in a silent stream down her cheeks.
She clings to him like life itself and pulls close to his chest, stares up into his warm eyes
even in the blizzard of sleet and snow and cold and kisses him passionately on the lips.
The kind of kiss that allows you to crawl inside a person and merge with their soul...
misleading confusion. "All is all and that is that?" I tell you now they are my
family and friends and I want them to go away. The voice presses down upon her
and the winds pick up and she cannot tell from the energy in the air if the voice is
there to hurt or enlighten. "How is it you want me to speak? What does it matter
the things I desire, the fears that I have?" She turns to go, her bare feet now bloody
in the white snow and the swirling funnels still stinging her legs. None of it makes
sense as she studies the hole in the old oak tree into which they all escaped and
wonders was this simply a nightmare gone worse. Something she ate earlier that day.
But what was earlier? Nothing comes to mind, and she grabs her head that shakes like
a flag in the brutal wind, and runs. Through the trees, down the road and into the
oncoming headlights of a single car, not traveling so fast for the weather prohibited,
and a sensible young man jumps out and grabs her by the arms. "Miss, Miss are you
okay? Are you harmed? She shakes, her tears in a silent stream down her cheeks.
She clings to him like life itself and pulls close to his chest, stares up into his warm eyes
even in the blizzard of sleet and snow and cold and kisses him passionately on the lips.
The kind of kiss that allows you to crawl inside a person and merge with their soul...
Monday, December 29, 2008
BURNING SNOW.2
...did she join on her own or taken prisoner against her will of which she is
no longer in control? Tornadoes of snow whip up storms at the base of the
oak tree and an old energy with the sound of a million souls cries from
deep inside the tree and the wind hows and where on earth is there any
place from which one can hide from the dark? The souls swarm like termites
and disappear into the oak and Erica hides from the wind and snow, shivering.
"What is it you want?" A creaky voice one from the past, old with dust on it,
comes at her.
"I want them to go away!" she cries out with terror.
The old voice snickers with the cynical tone of a prankster about to strike
again, knowing full well the results and relishing the thought.
no longer in control? Tornadoes of snow whip up storms at the base of the
oak tree and an old energy with the sound of a million souls cries from
deep inside the tree and the wind hows and where on earth is there any
place from which one can hide from the dark? The souls swarm like termites
and disappear into the oak and Erica hides from the wind and snow, shivering.
"What is it you want?" A creaky voice one from the past, old with dust on it,
comes at her.
"I want them to go away!" she cries out with terror.
The old voice snickers with the cynical tone of a prankster about to strike
again, knowing full well the results and relishing the thought.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
BURNING SNOW.1
Glowing embers flamed to life as the clock ticked second after second.
Certainty was not her main concern, what with all the people outside.
What happened to get her here she wondered looking at the second hand
move with a grace and ease she herself did not feel. What had she done in
a previous life to merit such masterful deceit of her family and friends?
She had stumbled upon secrets and now she was paying for this. None
of the others, just her. She pokes at a coal burning in the open fireplace
before slipping out to the enclosed back porch. They were still out there,
watching. Waiting. Something for them to do on this cold winter night where
the ice hangs like tendrils of hair from a ghostly visage chasing frightened
children through the bleak forest. What was her next move she asked herself,
her breath steaming out of her hot mouth giving away her position in the
darkness severed only by one large ray of moonlight through the curtained window.
Now that was something, she thought, for suddenly no longer were the onlookers
outside staring in. Where had they gone? More hot streams of breath release
through her nostrils. She slumps against the wooden wall, relieved by by their
absence but it is all for naught. For once outside all now gathered around her
in the room. She slides to the floor her mouth wide in silent terror as her eyes close.
The dish she holds slips from her hand and crashes, a symbol of her mourning
for all those who had broken before her, cracked into a million pieces of flotsam on
the silage of the sea after a storm, something to be raked up and thrown in the trash.
But she was whole, just not the plate. And the others in the room were whole though
transparent like a ghostly apparition or a dream or veil floating across her eyes
dimming even the bright bulb dangling from the ceiling. With her mouth still closed
she hears herself decry their fingers clawing at her very essence. Why were they back
and could she ever satisfy them enough to ensure her escape through the cracks in
the floor? Stationary before her they stand. She stares back with disdain. Why are
they here and what is the thing they want to take from her to make up for the egregious
mistake she made but which until now knew nothing about? There were so many to
choose from. But she dare not ask, for what if they demand she tell all, confess all and
she only a few inches from the door and wondering could she make a run for it and then
what? Always the then what. The front door crashes against the wall and one by one
her tormentors file past her in silence, as she lays huddled and shaking in the corner.
Shaking about what she did not know for surely this meant retreat. They continue
drifting past, energized with a mission they did not have before. Eyes peering from
their corners as they pass and smile like they know her, like they will see her again. And
she cries because the fear is in her bones and her head rests against the dirty grainy floor
that needs a good sweep or at least a strong shake and the way she sits up makes her
wonder if she is not already one of them. Now on her feet she slips in line behind the
last one out of the room and blends in as they move in a huge, wave-like motion across
the snow and through a hole in the trunk of an old oak tree guarding the door to the
bare forest...
Certainty was not her main concern, what with all the people outside.
What happened to get her here she wondered looking at the second hand
move with a grace and ease she herself did not feel. What had she done in
a previous life to merit such masterful deceit of her family and friends?
She had stumbled upon secrets and now she was paying for this. None
of the others, just her. She pokes at a coal burning in the open fireplace
before slipping out to the enclosed back porch. They were still out there,
watching. Waiting. Something for them to do on this cold winter night where
the ice hangs like tendrils of hair from a ghostly visage chasing frightened
children through the bleak forest. What was her next move she asked herself,
her breath steaming out of her hot mouth giving away her position in the
darkness severed only by one large ray of moonlight through the curtained window.
Now that was something, she thought, for suddenly no longer were the onlookers
outside staring in. Where had they gone? More hot streams of breath release
through her nostrils. She slumps against the wooden wall, relieved by by their
absence but it is all for naught. For once outside all now gathered around her
in the room. She slides to the floor her mouth wide in silent terror as her eyes close.
The dish she holds slips from her hand and crashes, a symbol of her mourning
for all those who had broken before her, cracked into a million pieces of flotsam on
the silage of the sea after a storm, something to be raked up and thrown in the trash.
But she was whole, just not the plate. And the others in the room were whole though
transparent like a ghostly apparition or a dream or veil floating across her eyes
dimming even the bright bulb dangling from the ceiling. With her mouth still closed
she hears herself decry their fingers clawing at her very essence. Why were they back
and could she ever satisfy them enough to ensure her escape through the cracks in
the floor? Stationary before her they stand. She stares back with disdain. Why are
they here and what is the thing they want to take from her to make up for the egregious
mistake she made but which until now knew nothing about? There were so many to
choose from. But she dare not ask, for what if they demand she tell all, confess all and
she only a few inches from the door and wondering could she make a run for it and then
what? Always the then what. The front door crashes against the wall and one by one
her tormentors file past her in silence, as she lays huddled and shaking in the corner.
Shaking about what she did not know for surely this meant retreat. They continue
drifting past, energized with a mission they did not have before. Eyes peering from
their corners as they pass and smile like they know her, like they will see her again. And
she cries because the fear is in her bones and her head rests against the dirty grainy floor
that needs a good sweep or at least a strong shake and the way she sits up makes her
wonder if she is not already one of them. Now on her feet she slips in line behind the
last one out of the room and blends in as they move in a huge, wave-like motion across
the snow and through a hole in the trunk of an old oak tree guarding the door to the
bare forest...
How The Camel Pole Vaulted Through The Eye of the Needle
Her long mascara'd eye lashes bent against the barrage of warnings.
"It's an industry where illusion is measured and quantified, rumor given
substance, dreamers attract talent and talent attracts sycophants."
But still she knew she wanted in.
Again their words pelted her like bullets raining from the sky.
"Creativity, time and money are needed and when you have enough of any two
the third is always sacrificed",
and all she thought was oh goody, a never ending test to redefine one's
skills on a project by project basis.
"It's a people business".
"It's all about the money."
But she realized there was room for both.
And didn't she know of the impossible odds? Gamblers wouldn't take such a bet.
One day the planets aligned, the Gods were with her. She'd prepared for this
moment by working on her craft, listening and learning and when the eye of the
needle blinked open, she umped.
Once inside her mascara'd eye lashes never closed, for it wasn't a good idea.
She saw two camps: those who conduct themselves like this is a business and those
who live up to its hype.
She waded through the dreamers from the dreamers and doers.
It was a messy confluence of many points of view where willingness and skill
were needed to embrace an idea that took hers to a new level.
She saw some justifying their ow positions and existence, often unsure of themselves
yet loudly taking a stand.
In this arena people driven by the courage of their talent and dreams or the greed
in their hearts work side by side, boundaries in flux as ethics and opportunities
collide to create a vibrant, electric atmosphere wielding the power to move people,
for better or worse.
Did she have the inner strength to let others have their due even when it wasn't theirs?
Be wiling to search patiently for those who seek entertainment, sometimes with meaning?
She was sure and understood that first you show up and try to get in, then find a way to
stay in, and finally to take what judgments befall you, with grace or not.
She looked back at her detractors with a smile.
"If I had wanted a regular life I would have followed my sister into mortgage banking, but she
only has one hump and I have two
"After all," she said puffing out her chest, "This is Hollywood."
"It's an industry where illusion is measured and quantified, rumor given
substance, dreamers attract talent and talent attracts sycophants."
But still she knew she wanted in.
Again their words pelted her like bullets raining from the sky.
"Creativity, time and money are needed and when you have enough of any two
the third is always sacrificed",
and all she thought was oh goody, a never ending test to redefine one's
skills on a project by project basis.
"It's a people business".
"It's all about the money."
But she realized there was room for both.
And didn't she know of the impossible odds? Gamblers wouldn't take such a bet.
One day the planets aligned, the Gods were with her. She'd prepared for this
moment by working on her craft, listening and learning and when the eye of the
needle blinked open, she umped.
Once inside her mascara'd eye lashes never closed, for it wasn't a good idea.
She saw two camps: those who conduct themselves like this is a business and those
who live up to its hype.
She waded through the dreamers from the dreamers and doers.
It was a messy confluence of many points of view where willingness and skill
were needed to embrace an idea that took hers to a new level.
She saw some justifying their ow positions and existence, often unsure of themselves
yet loudly taking a stand.
In this arena people driven by the courage of their talent and dreams or the greed
in their hearts work side by side, boundaries in flux as ethics and opportunities
collide to create a vibrant, electric atmosphere wielding the power to move people,
for better or worse.
Did she have the inner strength to let others have their due even when it wasn't theirs?
Be wiling to search patiently for those who seek entertainment, sometimes with meaning?
She was sure and understood that first you show up and try to get in, then find a way to
stay in, and finally to take what judgments befall you, with grace or not.
She looked back at her detractors with a smile.
"If I had wanted a regular life I would have followed my sister into mortgage banking, but she
only has one hump and I have two
"After all," she said puffing out her chest, "This is Hollywood."
Friday, February 23, 2007
Don't Google Your Past
A slow day at work has sent me into the depths of depression. Googling old boyfriends and people I never really knew or liked in high school. The ones I want to find I can't. Those I don't care about seem to have blossomed into successes. Not finding someone on Google says a lot.
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