Daring to be noticed for the first time in her life, she pushed her chair back and stood up.
"Ladies? Gentlemen? Entities?" Helen paused. No response.
Helen glanced around. The large workroom -- some schizophrenic combination of retro and avant0-garde -- was loud, clicking and warbling and chatting in a very large number of tongues.
Helen cleared her throat. It should have been for effect, but it was because her throat had suddenly dried, as if she had swallowed the entirety of the Sahara back on Terra. "People! And non-people! Listen!"
To their credit, many did. Many didn't, but that...
The winter of 1970 in the Bay Area was not something I ever expected to experience- especially since I was born in 1990. My folks scolded me every night for sneaking into the backyard whenever there was a full moon. It wasn't my fault: grandpa planted the story about the time-well in my head and it sprouted into a maddening obsession.
My hair was now curly instead of wavy and my hands reverted into the pudgy state of toddlerhood. Who was I, in this time, and why was I only a spectator? My new parents talked about the lunar landing...
"Who among you, if her son asks her for bread, will instead give him a stone?"
I was paraphrasing, and quoting out of context, but she didn't know that. She was just a foolish, naive, ignorant, innocent young girl. She'd begged and pleaded for the opportunity to raise a pet. The goldfish just hadn't been enough, either. Oh no; she wanted a mammal.
So the baby gorilla came home with me one day, fresh out of acting school. This little guy was GOOD. He could play dead with the best of them. He could even slow his heart rate to...
"Surprise!" The lights flickered on, and the balloons flew up to the ceiling. I jumped back, startled. A surprise birthday party! My grin reached both my ears.
"Oh boy! Thanks, guys!" I ran up and hugged my dad.
"That's alright, my boy. Look, there's your presents! Go open them, kid." I disengaged and rushed over to the pile of gifts. I ripped them open, tearing the wrapping paper into tiny shreds. The first one I opened was the best.
It was a dinosaur costume set of pyjamas. I immediately rushed to my bedroom and put them on, and ran back...
"Mister Cloone?" said the sergeant as he sat down. "You know why we're holding you, right?"
Cloone shrugged and leaned back. "Fascism? Something something smokes?"
Sergeant Miller took off his own glasses. "We're stopping you here at the Richford/Quebec crossing because you were smuggling Cuban cigars into the country. Why would you do that? You didn't even try to hide them."
"It's the Hemingway in me. Cuba. And 'fuck the system'."
"You think that smuggling cigars makes you Hemingway?" asked Miller.
"I think it's a good start," replied Cloone.
"We have the boycott in place for a very good reason....
Above the open road
Below the open sky
Away from the clouds of crowds
Shadowed in the close of crows
Below the open sky
Summer is a sifter
Separating the go from the gone
Write an open story
Above the open road
Call it youth or freedom
Call it the future or America
Be above or below
Get out and go.
It starts out a little top heavy
with a first line so weighted down with its own importance
that it has to sink to the second (or even third) stanza -
the spark of an idea around which the softer lines crowd.
It usually has a trail of water drops leading up to it
because all good ideas strike in the shower
(it's always the shower)
and will be lost in the time it takes to comb or dry or dress.
It's never quite happy in its own skin
but lacks the will to be anything else
It shouts to...
I was nothing like his mother. Didn't look like her, act like her yet he told his friends we had to split up because I was like her. WTF. He told me that he no longer fancied me so why say I was like his mom.
I'd known him for over a year, we'd split up and got back countless times. I imagined that this time it would be like the others. He split up then pretended it was the drink. Although this time I decided I wasn't going to accept his apologies any more. This was final.
Jim called...
We'd been here once before. Staring through tiny holes on a weird-shaped box staring down at the bustling city below us. This time is different. This time he tells me he's ending it. No, not with me, with his fiance of merely two months who he works with at a dive bar down South. Naturally, I thought his engagement the week of my wedding was ludicrous to begin with. A Sapphire instead of a diamond on the hand of a girl with striped purple hair. She wasn't his type.
I gave my condolences, I guess that's the right word, I...
The rock where my sister died dominated the landscape like a giant defrocked mushroom.
My parents were standing beside me, waiting for my response as I looked up at the seaweed and the striations. I wasn't sure what they wanted me to feel.
"It's cold," I said.
"We were just up on that ledge," said mom. "The tide was coming in, but the sun was setting and we wanted to watch it."
"Thought we'd just wade back to shore afterwards," added dad.
"But I lost my balance and slipped. Pregnancy does that to you sometimes, messes with your inner ear....