The Overalls_Chivalrous Andy_Divided Altar_The art of growing
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The Overalls
[Allusions to death/dying] Snip, snip, snip. I’m becoming something new. I was a bolt of fabric, long and wonderful and wrapped many times around myself, hugging my own form. I had once been thread, a multitude of threads, and maybe even something else before that, but who can be expected to remember that far? Those www.onedoor.ccthreads were stretched tight and woven one over the other, again and again. Woven so tightly I became a taut impenetrable thing, not a hole to be seen. But now, I’m learning I am not as indestructible as I had thought. For one snap of those sharp knife-jaws and I am torn asunder. O...
Chivalrous Andy
Note about content: This story takes place approximately 60 or 70 years ago when a "whipping" for a child's misdeed seemed appropriate in most family circles. Also, animals (cats) were not valued as pets as they are today, and there is reference to their mistreatment.Chivalrous AndyAndy watched diligently as old lady Hawkins walked near the pond. His hiding place on the woodland floor allowed him to view her well, but of course, she wouldn't be looking for him. Her skinny arms tightly held the rush basket with two hands. Grunting as she approached the pond, Andy continued his hidden watch. The...
Divided Altar
"TW:" This story involves death, marriage, and abuse.May 1st, 1992Rita was crying her heart out on the sidewalk in front of her home in Hamilton place.Her friend Bunny was sitting next to her with her arms around her shoulder. She was shushing her gently and rubbing her arms soothingly, trying her best to make Rita feel better.“I’m going to miss him so m-m-much!” Rita hiccupped into her bent knees.“I know sweetie, I know” Bunny soothed, holding tears behind her own eyes as well.The sun was shining brightly, and Bunny wished Rita could have broken down somewhere a little more private. People wa...
The art of growing
Mallot's mother dies in March from cholera and the day after, she comes to class and tells me about her father who lives in a city far away. She doesn't know him that well but she can guess he is fine. As we walk home under the flaming sun, she elbows me and laughs and I think about losing my mother too; how each touch and exhale would cease at that moment. Sometimes I let my mind stray to that thought and how simple it would all be to lose a part of my soul. "Why aren't you crying?" I ask her later when her laughter has dipped low.She looks at me as though I've made a mistake in asking her a ...