Face-Off in the Big City_Omnibus Continued, Bard and Borrowing_Hard Times_Pulling Threads
Catalog Guide:
Face-Off in the Big City
It was an icy cold January morn in New York. Janet Mullaway felt chilled to the bone as she walked down from her hostel room to the main gate of the New York University campus. A brilliant mind, she was presently working on her research thesis on environmental sciences at the University. The cold winds seemed to cut through her. Shivering, she pulled her windcheater closer and covered her ears more snugly with her hoodie. Morosely, she thought that the weather today was much like her own mood – dreary, dull and grey, with no hint of sunshine. Picking up pace, she trotted up to the cafeteria op...
Omnibus Continued, Bard and Borrowing
.....and who are you, man of yesterday, myself, as per my adventures downtown, with a notepad in tow? the writer here transposes his notepad entries live, as it were, as he is a spontaneous idiot and balladmonger of just such a sort as would pull such stunts as this, all the while calling it Art. Here are the entries, as they are, scribbled. Here the writer will add that as he, being a luddite, was logging onto his Reedsy page, and finding the Reedsy blog by way of a search engine, luddite that he is (backwards idiot? don't you have your password saved? and you actually use a search engine?), ...
Hard Times
The field was immaculate. flat, and bounded by right angles. The grass had been mowed down in that way that makes neat columns so that the whole field drew the eye up to the monument that stood in the place of the old mill. It was orderly, except for the tree. The tree was old and gnarled. There was a square, knee high, fence around it that tried to keep it apart from the ordered grass, but the tree’s roots had begun to grow out under the fence so that the boundary wasn’t even. An old plaque inside the fence, with moss grown all over one side, read: “Like the roots of this tree we are an inpis...
Pulling Threads
At the beginning of each summer, there was the necessary trip to the hardware store to comb through the aisles for glue traps. Each year, she counted how many traps were needed, based on what she found as she bent over couch-backs, crawled into corners, and reached behind bookcases to pull out the previous year’s traps. There were wolf spiders mostly, but occasionally a centipede, who had wandered onto the smooth, sticky surface. She examined the paths of the crwww.onedoor.cceatures who somehow managed to crawl deeper and further into the trap until they could no longer turn around or escape th...