8/31/2010

Requiem

 Photo taken by Derek Stafford
St. Mary's Church in Prestbury, Gloucestershire, England 1990.

Requiem

In nomine Patris et Filii…

the blizzard of your rationalizations
stings my eyes, filling them with frost, and
leaving me blind to see you
in sanctified service past or future resurrection.

like an arctic blast, your casual contempt engulfs me,
contempt for me, for us, for them.
it freezes my voice into crystal shards of glacial ice.
I am speechless, all alleluias frozen hard.

but tomorrow, tomorrow we will turn away.
we will seek asylum, hunker down, and take shelter.
we will lay logs of our own worth on the dying embers of our souls.
we will speak out, and live, and love, and be warm again.

not you.

with each unspoken brutality,
invited in and made at home and kept safe from prying eyes,
decay takes up residence within you,
setting up housekeeping and putting its feet up.

the canker of cruelty within you
festers and oozes, reeking of hypocrisy and ego,
and leaches into every nook and cranny,
filling your essence with fetid rot.

insidious, invisible, inexorable,
like cancer, it is slowly killing you,
drooling and slavering, hungrily devouring your soul,
and leaving you for dead.

amen.

8/29/2010

A Wee Cottage in the Wood


She tripped lightly down the pine needle-strewn path, her footsteps swallowed by the silence of the forest. She stopped here and there to pick the ripe blackberries growing along the path and dropped them into the battered pail she’d brought with her for just such a purpose. Tonight there would be pie, but she would have to stop her one-for-me, one-for-the-pail approach to berry-picking if she were ever to gather enough.

Passing though bright motes of dapple painted by sunlight through leafy boughs of green canopy, deeper and deeper into wood she traveled. Then far ahead in a small clearing, nearly swallowed by foliage, a wee cottage appeared, spot-lit by sun but all darkness within. To many, it might be forbidding, but not to a young girl who had lived in fairy tales all her life. She had outwitted wolves and wicked stepmothers. She had vanquished many an evil gnome, troll and elf. She’d laughed at orcs, goblins and gollums, and had escaped towers, hot ovens and never-ending sleep. And through it all, she’d always believed in good witches and handsome princes, though she’d never actually met one herself.

Nay, a wee cottage in the wood was no match for this girl. And so she skipped up to the cottage, climbed the steps to the its porch, and gave a small knock on the door. When there was no answer, she gently pushed the door open on its squeaky hinges and stepped inside. As the sun followed her in, she saw an old bird cage standing in the corner. She walked over, and as she approached, a very bedraggled bird lifted its head and looked at her forlornly.

“Hello,” she said brightly. “I’m Lucinda. What’s your name? What are you doing here all alone?”

The bird said not a word. Not too many birds can talk, after all. He just continued to gaze at her. Now, probably birds can’t get expressions on their faces, but she saw great sadness in this bird’s eyes. Her own eyes filling with tears, she pried open the rusty latch on the cage and opened the door.

“Come out,” she cried. “I’ve set you free!”

The bird just pulled its pale blue feathers tighter against its thin body and backed into the far corner of the cage, its expression changing from sad to wary. She stood and talked gently to the frightened bird, but nothing she said could lure it from the cage.

Finally, she realized it was hopeless and besides, the sun was going down and soon it would be dark in the forest.

“I must go if I’m to find my way home," she told the bird. “”But I will leave the door open so that you may leave too if you want. Goodbye!”

She turned and started moving toward the door of the cottage, but half-way there she stopped and turned.

“There are plenty of berries outside and I can tell you, they are very good. But you look hungry now and my waistline doesn’t need pie anyway.”

She returned to the cage, and put all of the berries from her pail just inside the door of the cage. Then she ran from the cottage and made her way quickly out of the forest and home, arriving just before the sun dropped below the horizon.

That night, she was barely able to sleep, worrying about the poor bird cowering alone in the cottage in the wood. Her concern stayed with her the next day, causing her boss to chastise her for daydreaming instead of attending to her filing. As she tried to focus on her work, she vowed to return to the cottage that evening and make sure the poor bird was okay.

Right after work, she rushed home and changed her clothes. Taking no time to trip lightly through the wood or pause to enjoy the succulent blackberries growing beside the pine needle-strewn path, she hurried toward the cottage. When the wee cottage came into view in the small clearing ahead, she saw the door was standing open as she left it. But instead of darkness inside, the cottage seemed filled with sunlight.

She ran to the door and stepped inside, anxiously looking at the old cage standing in the corner. To her surprise, it was empty! She went over to it, and confirmed that the bird and all of the berries were gone.

As she was standing looking at the cage, her emotions swinging between joy that the bird had flown free and disappointment at not seeing him again, she heard a footstep on the tiny porch out front. Turning, she saw a handsome young man in a pale blue sweater framed in the doorway.

“Hello,” he said. “I’m Marcus. What’s your name? What are you doing here all alone?”

See? she thought. I knew fairy tales really can come true!

************************************
This was written for Magpie Tales.

160: Ghosties and Ghoulies and Long-Legged Beasties and...


Tossing all night
Searching for sleep.
Demons lurk waiting
My dreams to keep.

I can’t close my eyes,
For what would I see?
Nocturnal beasties
Who’d make dinner of me.

*********************************

This was written for Sunday 160, hosted by Monkey Man.  If you've got something to say and can say in 160 characters, spaces included, go pay him a visit.

8/28/2010

Speechless

I have been blogging for nearly a year. When I started, I had no idea what I was doing, and I really worried that I wouldn't have enough to say to keep it up. Turns out that wasn't a problem (anyone who knows me could have told you I seldom run out of things to say - well, maybe they'd say I never shut up, but that's the same thing, right?).

This has been a wonderful experience. Since beginning, I've "met" many great people, and made some terrific friends out here in cyberspace. 

Today, one of those friends, Jamie Dedes, paid me such an incredible honor on her blog, Musing By Moonlight that I am (almost) speechless.  Such kind words from anyone would be wonderful, but when they come from someone who inspires me so much, it is a true blessing.

Thank you, Jamie.

8/27/2010

Wandering the Corridors of Time

Twenty years after graduation, she went back to her high school in search of the youth she’d lost somewhere along the way.  Stopping first at the office for a hall pass, she wandered through the familiar corridors.

Here’s where we rolled soda cans down the aisle during assembly, she thought.  And here’s where he used to meet me after 5th period.

The bell rang, and the corridor filled with students.  A boy with purple and green hair looked at her oddly, and then came over.

“May I help you, Ma’am?”

She sighed.  I think my youth has left the building.

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This is my entry for this week's 100-Word Challenge, hosted by Velvet Verbosity.  The prompt this week is "corridor."


8/26/2010

Guess the Joke's on Me!


Round and round I drive
Looking for a spot.
It’s mid-afternoon.
I should have a shot.

I  looked everywhere.
I checked all the lots.
Did I find a space?
Ha! Of course I did not.

Look! A sign!

Blue, with a big white P
Then below it I saw…

Hey! Is he laughing at me?

*************************************

This is my offering for Friday Flash 55, hosted by G-Man at Mr. KnowItAll.

8/25/2010

Acceptance


She laid  there, an observer in her own life.  The nurse had just given her a sedative, and as she was drifting off, she thought about the previous 10 years. They had been life-changing in so many ways. 

***

It had been their anniversary and it was time to open the first installment of the wedding gift they’d given to each other on that August day ten years ago.  They had made a promise to each other that they would take a second (and third, fourth, and hopefully fifth) honeymoon to celebrate each 10 years together. 

As the plane carried them over the Pacific, she had congratulated herself on making it that far.  It had been touch and go for a while there. He denied it, of course, but she had been almost certain that Bob was fooling around a few years earler.  Late nights “at the office,” a brief flurry of phone calls to Johnson Heating and Plumbing, and worst, a feeling when he was with her, his mind was somewhere else.

When she could ignore it no longer, she’d asked him if he had a girlfriend.  He’d paled (or maybe she’d imagined it?) and denied it vehemently.  It was the merger, he’d said.  It had been particularly difficult period for him, but now that the merger was complete, he promised things would get better.  And they had. 

At the time, she’d had her doubts that the second honeymoon would ever come. But then they were on their way to Hawaii. 

Just as she was dozing off, the voice of a flight attendant had come on the intercom.  “Ladies and gentlemen, we are approaching our final destination in Honolulu.  The pilot has turned on the Fasten Seat Belt sign.  Please return seat backs to the upright position and secure your tray tables. We will be landing shortly.”

***

And that was the last thing she’d remembered before she awoke under bright lights surrounded by masked faces.  Before she could even gather her thoughts enough to ask all the obvious questions, she had fallen into the black hole again. 

When she finally came around again, Bob was sitting in a chair beside her, his chin resting on his chest as he snored lightly.  She reached over to shake him awake. Or she tried to, but nothing seemed to work.

“Bob?  Bob!” she’d called out in panic.

He awakened with a start, and jumped up to grab her hand and bring it to his lips.  She could see him do it, but she couldn’t feel a thing.  Her mind did all the thrashing around in panic that her body didn’t seem able to do. 

“What’s going on? What happened? Why can’t I move?” she screamed.

“It’s okay, Linda,” he said. “It’s just temporary.  You’ll be fine as soon as the swelling goes down.”

“Swelling?”

He’d explained that their plane had undershot the runway in Honolulu, and they’d crashed into the rocks.  No one had been killed, but several people had been hurt, and she was one of them.  She’d been knocked unconscious, and when they got her to the hospital, they discovered she’d suffered a neck injury. 

“But they say you’ll be fine, Linda. They operated and repaired the disks in your neck that were injured.  When the swelling goes down, you’ll need some therapy, but you’ll be okay.”

Except that the swelling had gone down, and she wasn’t okay. She was paralyzed from the neck down.

***

The following years were a blur.  After she'd recovered (Recovered? Hah!), there was the lawsuit.  Of the passengers who’d been injured, she was the only one to suffer permanent damage.  She had sued the airline, and when they’d been unable to point the finger of blame at anything but pilot error, the airline had settled.  Handsomely.  Her brother, a lawyer, had made sure her interests were well represented.  By the time she received the settlement check, she had appointed her brother as her power of attorney, and he’d invested  the proceeds.  She’d had enough income to support her for the rest of her life if she needed it. 

And she’d soon realized that she would need it.  About three years after the accident, Bob had been first “too busy” to spend much time with her, and then he became angry and distant.    He told her she was being unrealistic, and she should just accept her condition and get on with her life.  Before long, he made no pretense about the way he was spending his time.  She knew there was another woman.  Thank heavens they’d never had any children.  She hadn’t yet gathered the strength to leave him, but she'd known she would eventually.

She remembered reading a book many years ago about the five stages of grief.  She’d gone through every one of them except the final one, acceptance.  She would never accept that all this had happened to her.  Never!  Using her brother as her avatar, she sought second and third opinions.  She was “treated” by acupuncturists and faith healers. She tried alternative medical approaches, traveling to Mexico and then Switzerland to find them.  Nothing had worked.  There seemed to be no hope.

Until now.

***

She looked around the room.  It looked like so many hospital rooms she had spent her time in for so many years.  This was not your ordinary hospital, though.  Located in an isolated village in the Alps, this sanitorium would be her home for the next few weeks, if all went well.  Tomorrow, she was going to become a pioneer in medical science. 

The doctors here had warned her that this had never been attempted before, and was highly risky.  It had only a 5% chance (as best they could estimate, never having done it before) of success.  And if it failed (“when it failed” was what they meant, but didn’t say), she would die.  Die?  She was already dead, in her opinion.  As far as she was concerned, this procedure gave her a 5% chance at life.  It was a risk she was more than willing to take.  It was also atrociously expensive, but she was willing to pay that price as well.  What good was all the money in the world when you were living in a dead body?  Satisfied that she had made the right decision, she gave herself over to the sedative and went to sleep.

***

It was their anniversary.  They’d been married twenty years today.  The cab pulled up to the house, and she got out.  She asked the driver to wait, and then walked up to the front door.  She rang the doorbell (she’d thrown the key away years ago) and then listened to the sound pf his footsteps coming down the stairs.  He opened the door, and his eyes widened.  Standing in front of him was the most beautiful woman he ever seen.  He quickly recovered and gave her his most winning smile. 

“Hel-lo. Can I help you?”

She burst out laughing.  This was everything she’d dreamed it would be.  The barely-hidden leer in his words were the icing on the cake.

“Hello, Bob.”

The smile on his face froze, and then faded.  He opened the screen door and peered more closely at the perfectly made-up face in front of him. 

“Linda???” 

She knew he’d realized it was her face looking back at him, but it was a face glowing with good health and satisfaction.   Then his eyes dropped.  Below the neck was not the wasted body he’d last seen on his wife.  It was not even the healthy but far from extraordinary body of the bride he’d lost on the plane to Hawaii twenty years ago.  In fact, it didn’t even remotely look like it could be her body at all.  This body was stunning!  No, it was drop-dead gorgeous! 

“Linda!” he exclaimed again, and moved to embrace her.

She stepped out of his reach and smiled again.

“Happy anniversary, Bob.  I’ve come to deliver the next installment of our wedding gift.”

She handed him the divorce papers, then turned and walked back to the taxi, knowing his shocked eyes were following her every step.  She grinned broadly, and climbed into the cab.

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This was written  for 10DOM.