Snag, Saucer, Mirror, Eggshell, Steam

By MEG

A week after you disappeared, it rained real hard. My windows steamed up and revealed a ghostly little heart-shaped thing you must have drawn with your finger while drinking coffee at my table. I can tell where you started it and where your nail pressed against the glass as you swooped and rounded out the end of the shape. The saucer you rested your cup on is still on the table. I left it there. It has crumbs on it, and you touched those, too.

Now it seems you might appear anywhere. Behind me in the mirror? Or on it, through my own face. People see Jesus on toast. Maybe I’ll find you in the eggshell I just split against the pan. I’m on my knees now, touching the nail that just snagged my sock as I passed through the bedroom. Some of your threads could be wound around it, too. But they’re not. They’re with you, on your feet, somewhere else.

 

By LFK

Megan let the hot water run down the back of her head, her neck, and down the center of her back. Inhaling deeply she relaxed the tense muscles in her neck in the ultra hot shower. After another minute or two she finished her daydream and shut off the water. She rang the water out of her long chestnut-colored hair and grabbed her towel from behind the door. As she pulled it she snagged a corner of it on a splinter that had recently appeared on the moulding around the door.

“Damn,” said as she tried to pull the thread back through. She hated ruining nice things, and these towels were fluffy soft luxury. The kind of thing you don’t need to spend your money on, but if someone gives them to you as a gift, you’ll happily accept. “Eggshell,” the label had read. What a funny name for a color. Eggshells can be brown, white, speckled. Who decides what color is actually called “eggshell?” She shrugged off the thought and wrapped herself in warmth of the towel and rubbed the steam off of the mirror. It had been a long day and she was ready to relax. She put on her slippers and her blue and white pajamas. She poured some milk in the saucer for her cat, Waldo, and folded herself up in the corner of her couch with her favorite book.

January 19, 2012
Categories: drama, random . Tags: , , , , . Author: lfkmeg . Comments: Leave a Comment

Quilt, Daughter, Mouse, Millions, Blood

By LFK

The king stood above his vast property staring down at his loyal army. Their whiskers all cropped short. They sucked in their bellies and stood at attention in pure admiration for their mouse leader. Commanding the building’s biggest army of mice was no small feat. After all, they had big enemies to deal with. The last fight saw the unfortunate death of the king’s only daughter. As the mice army fought against the old wily tomcat, they had to run through her spilled blood, leaving millions of mice paw prints scattered about the warehouse floor.

“Today we honor my beautiful daughter who loved this kingdom more than anyone could have ever imagined. We will raise this square of quilt in herhonor. This piece symbolizes what she stood for. Love, freedom, and the best cheese we could lay our paws on,” the king bellowed. The army squealed in unison as the color guard slowly raised the piece of fabric up the flag pole. They each stared somberly at the brown and pink piece of cloth. At least she went down with honor.

 

By MEG

Jack’s blood ran cold like with the sharp freeze of a million icicles. He pulled a third quilt over him, but shivered still. Fear prickled and crawled across his skin. He held his knees to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut mightily. It was futile.Through his eyelids he could see the full moon shining down, casting a daughter of a reflection on the still, snow-circled lake. He could hear footsteps along the shore coming nearer, same as he could hear the mouse creeping from the corner of the room. From his huddle beneath the covers he watched the path outside for the figure that would soon appear. It would be bathed in moonlight. It would be determined. Like the mouse it would come close, unwelcome, into the room…

January 15, 2012
Categories: drama, mystery, random . Tags: , , , , . Author: lfkmeg . Comments: Leave a Comment

Corn, Steeple, Sabotage, Carriage, Cloth

By LFK

As I drove past the miles and miles of corn fields I couldn’t help but think about the daunting task that was ahead. The closer I came to Barnesville the more apprehensive I became. I approached the church slowly. I got out and felt the undercarriage of my car the knife. I didn’t know what to expect. Anyone could be hiding behind a pew, waiting to sabotage me.

Quietly moving through the church I looked for the body. Where does someone stash a corpse in a church? I checked the pews – row by row – hand on my knife, paranoid and sweating. I crawled up to the alter and slowly looked under the cloth. Nothing. Feeling flustered I sat down and put my head in my hands. Where? What was I missing? I took a deep breath and threw my head back to stretch my neck – peering at the inside of the steeple. That’s what I saw it. His body drained of life, color and feeling. It hung from the rafters 70 feet above my head, swaying from the gentle drafts that floated through the massive church. What an end to a horrible life. He got what he deserved. I was relieved that I’d never have to run from him again.

January 12, 2012
Categories: random . . Author: lfkmeg . Comments: Leave a Comment

Criminal, Stream, Pine Tree, Highway, Hammer

By MEG

“Well, goodbye then. Leave.” The words had left her mouth with a casualness that didn’t match their weight. He was leaving forever, not for the corner store. The sting of finality and separation was immediate. Now, flying down the highway, they hammered behind his eyes. Painful and numbing at the same time. “Goodbye then. Leave.” His eyes locked on the road ahead, but images streamed through his mind in a second layer of vision. Her grin, sexy and criminal. His fingers, brushing needles from the pine tree from her hair. The hills, before them as they lay with their backs against the trunk. She was behind him but more present now than ever. She crowded into his head as he sped away, leaving, but going backwards.

 

By LFK

I parked my truck on the side of the highway and grabbed my map. Looking at the side of the hill I started to picture what the topography must look like behind the initial rows of pine trees. Grabbing my tools and dog I started foraging my way through the thick ferns. Big fat dew drops clung to the leaves like fresh tears waiting to fall. It was almost as if the woods were crying softly to me, knowing that they’d be logged one day soon. It seemed criminal to me that people tore down our forests, our playground, our real homes, just so they could build ugly trendy mcmansions.

I found the spot where I’d left off the week before. The ground was soft and smelled like freshly cut pine. I grabbed the slats of wood, nails and my hammer and began to add fresh pieces of cedar to the bridge that would link two pieces of land by crossing the gurgling stream that wandered down the hill and around the centuries-old stumps, and eventually out to the watershed at the bottom of the mountain. Sweat trickled down my face and onto the slightly pink wood. Small specks of moisture dotted the now finished bridge. I couldn’t tell if it was my sweat or the tears of the forest. Either way, knowing the hard work one day wouldn’t matter was sad.

 

January 11, 2012
Categories: drama . Tags: , , , , . Author: lfkmeg . Comments: Leave a Comment

Light, Hound, Scare, Piano, Texas, Fluffy

By LFK

“Shh! Be quiet or that damn dog is going to freak out,” he whispered loudly in his annoying, whiny voice. How did I get stuck here with him? “I don’t care what that stupid hound does. We have to go inside,” I said. Stepping quietly across the cobwebbed porch I gently pushed open the old creaky front door. The giant old house must have been there for centuries. Surely an old rich Texas asshole must have lived here at some point. Rob followed me inside. I could hear the fear in his breathing. “Is there a light switch,” he asked? “No. No light. Someone could see us,” I hissed back.

I motioned for him to check out the corridor as I made my way through the dank-smelling sun room. An old piano lumbered in the corner against the blue moonlight poking in through the windows. Watching Rob creep down the hallway I opened the piano and softly tapped a high C key. Rob shot me a look of pure hatred and loudly whispered, “Are you trying to scare the fuck out me and get us caught?” I smiled at my satisfaction of pissing him off. Looking around the room my eyes focused on an old musty couch. I sat down on the fluffy pillows and was instantly surrounded by a cloud of dust. It was then that I felt it. Something under the couch fabric felt hard against my back. “Rob,” I said quickly. “It’s here! Give me you knife!” With surgical precision I removed the book. At last we’d found it. We would finally know the truth.

By MEG

Amy hurdled through the intersection as the light changed above her, and jerked to a stop in a loading zone. “Texas license plates are so colorful,” she thought, amazed that her mind had the bandwidth to even notice the car parked ahead of her as she threw off her belt, fumbled with her keys, and grabbed frantically for her purse. Perspiration beaded above her lip as quickly as she wiped it off. Her hands, clammy from the scare of being late – so late! – left ghostly smears on the driver’s side window as she slammed the door shut. She caught herself feeling a flash of annoyance over the dirty glass, and then wonder, again, that she could notice such a thing in this moment of panic that was otherwise consuming her like a fire.

She was acutely and overwhelmingly aware of the fact that she was supposed to be seated at a piano in three minutes. And not any piano, but one in front of three scouts from the conservatory. The deciders. The gatekeepers. The moment had been a long time coming. Her every thought for years had hounded her towards this day. She barreled towards the building and slammed against the door in her rush. “It’s locked! No, it’s pull!” Crashing up the stairs. Swinging around the corners. “Wait, what floor is it on,” she gasped. The scrap of address in her purse, where was it? He fingers found her keys, chapstick, a coupon, a fluffy kleenex. Where were the directions? Gone! “I’ll never find the audition room in time,” she thought. But sweet relief, her mind cut through the frenzy once again and perceived a lilting melody floating from down the hall. Now striding instead of bounding, Amy made one last swipe of her wrist across her sweaty lip, took a deep breath, and reached for the doorknob to room 307.

January 11, 2012
Categories: drama, mystery, random . Tags: , , , , , . Author: lfkmeg . Comments: Leave a Comment

Detour, Giant, Department, Roost, Milky, Banjo

By MEG


James left his post at the department on Wednesday. After a two decade tenure, it was a detour he hadn’t expected. “But that’s life,” everyone assured him. Assholes. As if he’d asked for their wisdom. Walter was the worst. He’d called James in for a “face to face,” and after several itchy minutes of inane small talk, informed James that they’d be letting him go. “That’s life,” he’d had the nerve to say from his undeserved roost of a desk. The sweater he’d stuffed himself into that morning had a tear in its armpit. A tiny shred of tissue stuck to a shaving nick on the side of his neck. James’ thoughts simmered and then boiled. Schmuck. How did a wad like Walter get into management. How does crap float to the top. How unfair. How ineffective!  Looking back at the moment, James was surprised by the poise in his reaction. “Yes, that’s life,” he’d repeated. He’d smoothed his pants with his hands, rose calmly, and left they building, not bothering to collect his things. Things. What for. Sitting on his porch that night, it all seemed so small. The giant glass of bourbon helped. So did the milky way, sparkling. For the first time in years, he noticed his dusty banjo in the corner. He picked it up, not caring what came next.




By LFK


Last week I was driving to get away from life. Cruising down the highway, just me, my car and the stereo blasting. As the sun set I saw a flashing road sign warning of a detour up ahead. Turning left, I drove by an old abandoned department store. The lights flickered against the milky pink sky. Looking ahead I saw nothing but flat desert land and mountains resting in the distance.


After several more hours of driving into the night sky, I noticed a large object obstructing the road ahead. There were no other cars around. I approached apprehensively, pulled off the road and turned off the engine. I got out and walked quietly toward the massive heap. Suddenly, it moved. Startled but curious I stood still as a face turned toward me. The giant rubbed his green sleepy face and smiled at me. Seeing that I was curious he pulled a banjo from beside him and began to sing me a soft song in his deep slow voice. A small black bird roosting in the giant’s greasy hair fluttered about. The 3 of us spent the rest of the night singing songs along the side of the deserted road.

January 11, 2012
Categories: comedy, drama, random, whimsical . Tags: , , , , , . Author: lfkmeg . Comments: Leave a Comment

Plate, Hole, Twinkle, Smirk, Discomfort

By MEG

Noah sat hunched, staring at nothing. His stomach cramped and growled. He reeled as an acidic hunger and hangover, now cut with dark coffee, gripped him. That was too large a pour of whisky last night. It had smoothed the edge off his angst about this morning’s deposition, but took a revenge now. His lawyer and their lawyers plodded through normalities — rules, boundaries, definitions, deadlines — while his gut sucked his presence further inward. His stare settled intently on a plate stacked with doughnuts, and the chatter around him became uninterpretable. They sat in the middle of the gleaming mahogany table, placed so far away that they existed as a formality, not a courtesy. Getting one in his mouth would require standing, stretching the full length of his body, and grasping til his shirt untucked from his pants. He couldn’t will himself to stand, but his mouth watered with the thought.

The others droned on and his sense of discomfort surged. Nothing cut through the clutter but the burning hunger, the sense of emptiness and strain behind his eyes, the wetness gathering in his mouth. The doughnuts came in and out of focus under his woozy gaze. One with a chocolate glaze seemed to twinkle. He salivated with both hunger and the nauseating thought of eating. As if puppeteered, he straightened up, wiped his hands on his knees, and formed the intent to reach. Then

“Noah, is that your recollection?”

“What?” Doughnut…

“Is that your recollection? Of the other driver that night?”

Noah swiveled and peered at his lawyer as if from the bottom of a deep hole. His headache pulsed with nausea and confusion.

“No,” he heard his mouth say. “I don’t know. What?”

His lawyer balked with disbelief. Their lawyers smirked, puffed with confidence. It was all ruined, pretty sure. From his pit of queasiness and famine, he could not care.

“Can you pass that plate?”

January 10, 2012
Categories: Uncategorized . Tags: , , , , . Author: lfkmeg . Comments: Leave a Comment

Path, Vagabond, Prostitution, Lint, Belt buckle

By LFK

The night sky was hazy- partly from smoke, partly from fog. The streets were shiny; damp from the mist that never seemed to settle. Rows of abandoned buildings create narrow paths through the dark city. Panning down the street, you get a sense of desperation, filth, and forgotten dreams.

Reaching into his pocket to feel for his wallet, he feels the leather bundle, a piece of gum, and some pocket lint. He tightens his belt buckle and sucks in his gut. Across the street she watches him adjust his pants She has been making money on the side via prostitution for over two years now She looks down, tugs at her skirt, smacks her gum and pushes up her cleavage. He was an easy target.

She walks out of the shadows, over the sleeping vagabond in the doorway of the liquor store. She slowly steps into the street heading his direction, hoping it’s quicker than her last client.

 

January 10, 2012
Categories: Uncategorized . Tags: , , , , . Author: lfkmeg . Comments: Leave a Comment

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