Thursday, 19 December 2013

Viewfinder



The mountains are so far below that their details look old, like a picture faded with time, and from directly over head, their points could just as easily be concave as convex. The sun's rays seem to shine from below this lofty bird's eye view, creeping outward from the south west and reaching a shorter distance than expected from such a powerful energy source. The forests are darker where the sun doesn't reach, and the ground becomes almost barren in places. The height has distorted certain details and revealed others.


Accumulated dust along the frame and in its cracks and crevices contrasts with the delicate texture and bright light captured in the painting. Even just this corner, where no one thing can be made out, a whole scene plays out on the surface. The light springs from a dull shadow, and stretches horizontally to the right, illuminating what is above in upwards shooting rays. In the shadow beneath the light, a splintered part of the wooden frame takes on the appearance of a tree, desperately seeking light and forcing its limbs towards the nearest source, not quite making contact yet.


The side of the concrete pathway is crumbled, suffering yet another rainy season pushed up against the rising water. The current splashes and catches the morning light, glinting in a dreadful way. The heavy water shines beautifully, but steals greedily and takes over forcefully. There won't be any peaceful river side strolls for a while, and soon those two branches drifting along unwillingly in the rushing water will turn to many. The sidewalk won't be dry for long. 

Humament Project


Friday, 22 November 2013

Postcards






FAR Away

Sheryl knew it probably wouldn't work, but she stretched out her arm and extended her thumb anyway. She had been walking for three hours already. What would a little standing and waiting do to make things worse? She watched the cars whiz past her on the highway, trying to make eye contact with every driver to guilt them into pulling over. She didn't care where they were headed; she just wanted out and away.
After about an hour, when her arm was starting to feel numb, a car slowed down and stopped next to her. She hadn't eye-guilted the driver because there was no driver. The door opened and she was sucked inside and strapped in, suddenly all too concerned with where she was being taken. As the car began to speed forward, almost as if taking off, she screamed
"WHERE ARE WE GOING?!"
A tiny robotic voice said, "Neptune." Well that was certainly out and away. FAR away.

Prompt: The Fog

Hail
The hail follows
just behind an ambulance
barrelling down a sidestreet.

It drills holes through
concrete walls
and pushes past
rudely on the sidewalk
and then it steps aside.

Eyebrow Hair
The brow hairs rise
like a crowd preparing to sing.
They linger in an awkward fashion,
not willing to retreat.
And then they're yanked away.

Prompt: Balmy, Triplet, Cottage ~ opening lines

"It was a balmy fall day, and as I trudged up the hill through the crispy unraked leaves, I spotted a triplet of shabby cottages off in the distance just to the west that I had never noticed before, even though I took the same path to the senior's home every day."
"The eighty seven year old triplets that lived in the tiny cottage on the corner of 23rd and Balmy never got along."
"I watched from my somewhat balmy spot in the shade under the pear tree as the police broke down the door to the rickety old cottage as if it was made of cardboard and marched over the threshold in a rigid single file line like a triplet of mindless robots."
"I had never seen anyone with quite such balmy lips, and as Mrs. Krisp stepped into my cottage and informed me that her two sisters, with whom she formed a triplet, would be along shortly, I wondered if they too didn't know when to stop smearing it on."
"I peered subtely through the open window of the grey cottage where Timothy was practicing his waltzing to a tune full of omonous triplets and hoped his hands wouldn't be quite as balmy the next time we were paired together in dance class."

Murder in Town


The little bell hanging just above the door rang frantically and nearly shook off its chain when Beth exploded over the threshold and into Mrs. Paisley’s tailor shop. The girl, cheeks flushed from being hit with warm air, leaned her palm against the wall and spread her fingers rigidly, letting the door close itself behind her. She took the kind of deep breath that normally would precede a grand announcement, but instead of exhaling big news like Mrs. Paisley would have expected, she simply said, “I’ve torn the pocket off my favourite jacket,” and slid it off her shoulders awkwardly.
As Mrs. Paisley examined the pocket and felt the torn stitches between her finger and thumb, Beth said quickly,
“I was in a hurry and it got caught on a fence. I wasn’t looking.”
“No problem, dear. It’s always our favourite clothing that this happens to, isn’t it? I’ll have it mended by this afternoon. How’s school treatin’ ya these days?”
“It’s fine. I’m actually headed there right now though and if I don’t leave right away I’ll be late for English. I’ll be back on my way home to pick that up. Thanks a million, Mrs. P!”
She spun around to go.
“Wait! Won’t you be a bit chilly with no jacket this morning? It’s still crisp before 9AM!” Mrs. Paisley called after her, but the door was already making its way back into its frame, Beth back out in the morning air and marching down the sidewalk towards school. It was unlike her to take off in a hurry like that. In the twelve years that Mrs. Paisley had known her, she had always stayed to chat. In fact, Beth consistently came into the shop for the conversation, not the service. Mrs. Paisley decided not to dwell on Beth’s unusually brief visit though. She’d get more out of her this afternoon. As she lifted the jacket with the torn pocket up off the counter, she detected the scent of men’s cologne hovering in the air. She hadn’t noticed it while Beth was in front of her, because she had been too distracted by the girl’s change of pace. But come to think of it now, Beth had been the first customer of the day, so the smell had definitely come in with her, it just hadn’t followed her out. Mrs. Paisley breathed in the unfamiliar scent and wondered what it was doing lingering so strongly on a twelve-year-old girl. In a town like this, no one had enough time to even think about wearing cologne. Everyone was too busy getting in a good day’s work. The strong perfume stood out like a shiny limousine on a dirt road, and it was difficult to think of where Beth could have picked it up.
That afternoon, right when expected, Beth stepped through the door. Slower this time, the bell ringing just once.
“Oh look. I’m finishing your pocket just in time, darling. How was your day?” Mrs. Paisley inquired with a smile. She looked at Beth, noticing there was much less of a frantic air about her than there had been this morning.
“School was the same as ever, thanks for asking.” Beth didn’t seem as engaged as she normally was, and her gaze kept shifting out the window and back to the mended coat in Mrs. Paisley’s hands. Taking the hint, Mrs. Paisley slid off her stool and came around the counter, gesturing for Beth to turn around so she could help her into her jacket. The girl obliged, and as she slid one arm through one sleeve and leaned back to hook her other arm through the second, Mrs. Paisley caught a glimpse of something dark and blotchy poking out from under Beth’s rolled up left sleeve before her whole arm entered the jacket. There was another spot just like it towards the back of her lower neck. Mrs. Paisley had seen her fair share of bruises before, but not like these. She was suddenly overcome with concern for the girl, feeling a bit of motherly responsibility over her because she had no living parents, only an older brother, Pete. She let Beth turn around, now wearing the jacket and testing out the strength of the new pocket with her fist.
“Beth my dear, you are covered in what I’d say were some nasty bruises. Did the fence do that to you after it took out your jacket pocket? Maybe you should send Pete to tell it off.”
 Mrs. Paisley had been trying to keep her question light, but Beth looked at her with nervous eyes and shrugged off the jacket, pulling her shirt sleeves down over the bruises. In one breath she stammered out that she had simply fallen climbing a tree and that it wasn’t so bad and she actually couldn’t pay for the jacket today because she had forgotten her change purse at home and she’d be back tomorrow. With that, she was out the door more abruptly than she had been that morning, leaving Mrs. Paisley perplexed, slightly worried, and in possession of a jacket she would have never charged the girl for anyway. She draped it across a rack behind her counter and sat back down on her stool with a sigh. There were a lot of odd people in this town, but they had all always been odd. It was something new for a girl to have turned odd.

The next day, Mrs. Paisley was heading to her favourite little coffee shop for her lunch break, when she spotted a young man heading towards the same place, but from across the street. She recognized him as the new man in town, the one that had just moved in from the city. She had first seen him last week on the corner outside the town’s grocery store standing in the rain and talking to a girl, both of them under his umbrella. She had taken particular notice of him not only because he was new to the town, but because he didn’t look at all like he belonged there. He was dressed entirely in greys and blacks, mostly gabardine, she thought, and he had on dress shoes. There was no place for dress shoes in this town. Everyone knew sensibility took priority over style. Mrs. Paisley had gotten a strange feeling seeing him there on the street, in the middle of all things familiar, and she was so caught up in wondering what a man like that could possibly want in this small country town that she didn’t realize who the girl he had been talking to was until she had walked a block in the other direction. It had been Beth.
Now, getting into line behind him at the counter to order lunch, and noticing again just how strange and almost suspicious the man looked in his fancy city way standing in the grimy, old, but oh-so-friendly coffee shop, Mrs. Paisley thought about what he had been talking about with Beth the week before. The way they were huddled so close under his umbrella, they had looked like two old friends just having a quick chat. Definitely not like strangers, which the man no doubt was to everyone in town. She made a mental note to ask Beth about him when she came to pick up her jacket. It didn’t seem right for a girl of her age to be getting friendly with a man, let alone a man no one knew anything about. There was something entirely inappropriate about the mere thought of a relationship between the two, and it might have been Mrs. Paisley’s old-fashioned attitude, but she saw it as almost dangerous for Beth.
The man ordered his sandwich and moved over to the counter where it would be placed when it was done being prepared. Mrs. Paisley watched him as he walked, and then turned back to the girl at the counter to hand her a handful of change, not needing to state her order because everyone at the coffee shop knew what her regular was. She smiled stiffly and then moved along after the man to wait for her own meal. They stood together in silence for a few moments, and when their sandwiches were set on the table at exactly the same time, the man spoke.
“Turkey sandwich, eh? Would have been my second choice, but I just had to try the Applewood cheddar one instead.”
“Both are good,” Mrs. Paisley said. She was stunned at how friendly a voice the man had, and how warm the look in his eyes was. She was expecting the same dull vibes from him that she got from his attire.
“You’re Mrs. Paisley, right? I’ve been meaning to visit your shop. I have a few buttons that need to be sewn back onto something, and my landlord told me you’d be the one for the job. I figured, since you’re the only tailor in town, but she said you were excellent.”
“Uh…yes. I am Mrs. Paisley. And you are…?” She hadn’t intended for there to be so much skepticism in her voice, but she didn’t add anything to soften what she had said. She simply waited for him to answer.
“Jared. Jared Huntsman.” He said with a smile. “I just moved here from—“
“From the city, I know. I can tell.”
“Is it that obvious? I’ve been trying to tone it down a bit. I guess I just haven’t mastered ‘small town’ quite yet.”
“That’ll come with time I’m sure.” But she wasn’t. City people never lasted long in town.
Jared Huntsman asked her if she’d like to join him at a table for lunch, and with much hesitation, Mrs. Paisley agreed. She simply had to know more about this strange man, so she could warn Beth appropriately.

Later that day, when the sun was just low enough to graze the roofs of the old houses, Mrs. Paisley sat in her shop, reeling from her lunch with Mr. Huntsman. She had first sat down at the table with him full of suspicion and not wanting anything more than to tell him to stay away from Beth and any other young girl in town. She had had the image of Beth’s bruises in her mind, not letting herself believe the tree story for a second. She knew it was a long shot, but for some reason she couldn’t help mentally connecting the city man with those dark spots on the girl’s arm. If it wasn’t a fall from a tree, was it another person who might have inflicted those wounds? Surely if it had been, Beth would have said something about it in the shop, or at the very least, she would have told her brother. He was, in the typical older brother fashion, her best source of protection. If Mrs. Paisley’s gut feeling was right, and this man from the city had hurt Beth, Pete would be after him with no hesitation. The worries and fears of what Mr. Huntsman had been up to since he got to town circled around in her brain all evening, and late into the night.

The next day, Mrs. Paisley could not have been happier to see Pete just ahead of her in the post office line up. Beth had been in the shop earlier that day, but had once again made no effort to make conversation. Mrs. Paisley had hit her with her strongest nosy strategies, and gotten absolutely nothing from the girl except six dollars in change for the mending of the jacket and a quick smile before she left. Maybe she’d have better luck with Pete. She had to, because something strange was most definitely going on. She could feel it all over the surface of her skin.
Once she had mailed her package off to her sister in Switzerland, Mrs. Paisley scurried as fast as she could out the post office door after Pete. She caught up with him just as he was about to cross the street, and the two of them walked the next block or so together.
“It’s been a very long time since I’ve seen you anywhere around town, young man,” the older woman accused, as soon as she was next to him.
“Oh Mrs. Paisley! How have you been? Yes, I’ve been going to the city quite a bit to look for a job. Working part time at old Wiley’s farm isn’t going to carry me forever.” Pete shot her one of his glowing smiles, the one that hadn’t changed since he was a baby. Mrs. Paisley remembered first meeting him when he was just six days old, and was hit with a wave of nostalgia; it wasn’t just her that was getting older anymore.
“No, but it could carry you a while longer, don’t you think? It’s an awfully long commute out to the city every day.”
“I’m already actively figuring out a way around that, Mrs. P. Not to worry. But you haven’t answered my question yet. How have you been lately? Anything new in your life?” Mrs. Paisley considered how to bring up her worries about what she had experienced the previous day, and decided just to dive right in.
“Actually, yes Pete, there is something new in my life, and I’m not sure it’s very good. Have you met the new man in town, Mr. Jared Huntsman? Because he’s been spotted hanging around Beth, and I don’t like it. He comes across very friendly, but there’s something about him that gives me a funny feeling. He’s up to no good. I just know it. And every time I’ve encountered Beth since the two of them were seen together, she has acted quite distant and hasn’t wanted to stick around and chat for more than a second. That’s not like her one bit. And when she came in to get her jacket mended, she told me she had hurt herself falling out of a tree. Does she even climb trees anymore? And she’s got these bruis—“
“Woah there, slow down Mrs. P. I assure you, if Beth is acting weird, its probably just hormones or something. I wouldn’t take much she says or does very seriously if I were you. She’s childish and just likes to waste her time fantasizing. And as for the tree incident and the jacket tearing, you know she’s just clumsy. She’s always falling! She’s in that awkward stage. It’s nothing.”
Mrs. Paisley saw something sweep across Pete’s face as he spoke, panic, perhaps? It was hard to tell. But he did have a point. It could just be Beth’s hormones getting the better of her. She was at that age. But as Pete assured her one more time that she shouldn’t worry, she saw a wildness in his eyes that she had never seen before. It took the glow right out of his smile. Mrs. Paisley hoped she was seeing things.
“I have to get going, Mrs. Paisley. I have an appointment in the city in an hour and I can’t be late. I’ll see you.” He patted her on the shoulder and then stepped around her, headed towards the train station. For a brief second, he was close enough to her that she could smell him. His cologne collided with her cold nostrils like a wrecking ball to a house. But instead of shattering everything, it made everything come together all to quickly. It was the cologne she had smelled on Beth. Had it rubbed off on her clothing because he was just a little too close? Could he have been the one who had inflicted those bruises? As Mrs. Paisley watched him walk away, an image sprang into her mind of Pete and Beth just after their parents had been killed in that terrible fire eight years ago. Beth had had her eyes wide, as if they were holding in them as much sadness as could possibly be mustered before the tears fell and all that was left was fear. She had stared straight ahead, as if not really looking at anything. Pete though, was only looking at her. And his expression was nothing of fear, but instead of anger and hatred. It was like he was driving his rage into her with his pupils. Mrs. Paisley had taken no notice of the fury at the time, too caught up with the tragedy of the whole thing, but she worried now that it may be boiling over. If so, what was Pete so angry about that it may have driven him to hurt his little sister?

One week later, after having not seen either Beth or Pete, or Jared for that matter, anywhere around town for days, Mrs. Paisley received a call. It was Jeanette from the grocery store. She informed Mrs. Paisley that Beth had been found lying dead in a field just behind old Wiley’s farm. She had been beaten to death. At hearing the words, Mrs. Paisley felt the strength in her knees crumble, and all she could think of was Pete. Did anyone else suspect what she did?
“Who did it?” She spat into the phone, tears beginning to burn the edges of her eyes.
“Nobody knows. Word on the street is though that it was Jared Huntsman, you know that new guy in town? I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“And I wouldn’t go believing rumors like that before there has been a proper investigation.”
Mrs. Paisley let the phone fall back into its cradle and hunched over the counter, sobbing. That poor girl had surely met a brutal end. Mrs. Paisley felt the pain of grief and regret settle in her stomach for having not done something as soon as her theory had sprung up in her mind. She was going to have to pull herself together and figure out how to throw an accusation she had absolutely no proof of at someone she had trusted for so long, and she’d have to do it soon.
Flipping around the sign on the shop’s front door so that it read “closed”, Mrs. Paisley walked up the road in the direction of Pete and Beth’s house. She wasn’t thinking of the danger she might have been putting herself in, she simply had to talk to Pete. If he had had any part in Beth’s murder, she wanted to hear it from him, or at least see the guilt in his eyes when she accused him.
As she forced herself forward and up the stairs to the front door, she heard voices shouting in the kitchen. One of them was Pete, and one of them she wasn’t sure of. The unfamiliar voice was much louder, almost hysterical.
“You’re sick, you know that? I should have been down here the second I knew what was going on. You’ve made a huge mistake, Pete. It was never her fault.”
“Now, Jared, let’s not get too worked up. It was her fault. As a kid she always played with matches. She was reckless. I know she’s the one who started that fire. And ever since, she’s made my life more difficult. I never asked to be burdened with a little sister to take care of! I want my own life and now I can finally have that, don’t you see?”
“All I see is a selfish monster. You don’t deserve to have the life you want anymore.”
Mrs. Paisley heard a low thump, a few scuffles, and some more muffled accusations. She gave up simply eves dropping and threw the front door open. The two men, Jared and Pete, were sprawled on the kitchen floor, Jared having pinned Pete down, still yelling at him while he struggled. Mrs. Paisley lunged forward, and shouting for them to stop immediately, tugged violently at Jared’s shoulders. He didn’t resist much, and stood up after a second, staring at Pete on the ground, with hatred in his eyes. Mrs. Paisley looked from man to man, and then motioned for Jared to go out to the porch.
Once she was alone with Pete, she looked at him coldly, observed his now bloody nose and swollen eye, and said,
“He’s right, Pete. I don’t know when you turned into this evil man you are now, but you don’t deserve to get what you want.” To her surprise, all Pete did was nod and lay his head back down on the linoleum, cupping his nose with his hand. Mrs. Paisley found the phone and called the police. The next few hours went by with her on auto polite, not stopping to let her emotions catch up with her, so it wasn’t until very late that night that she got the full story from Jared.
He had met Beth on his first afternoon in town, and they had hit it off there in the bookstore and ended up talking for hours between Religion and Self Help. The large age gap wasn’t an issue, he said, because he thought both of them just really needed someone to talk to who would just listen, and they had started spending whatever time they could together. He told her about leaving his troubled ex girlfriend behind in the city and coming to live in town to simplify his life for a little while, and she told him about how Pete had been hitting her. It started out as threats, she had said, but in the last few months had escalated to physical abuse, at least once a week before he left for another job interview. That’s how her jacket had been torn, and why she had smelled of Pete’s cologne. He was all over her. Beth made Jared promise not to tell anyone though, because she was handling it and she would never want her brother to get in trouble. She knew Pete blamed her for the death of their parents, and she knew all he wanted was to be rid of her, but she was convinced that the problems would be sorted out once he got a job in the city and felt like he was accomplishing something. That’s why Jared had promised not to tell. He had fallen for her positivity, and now he hated himself for being so naive. Hearing the story, Mrs. Paisley shared his self loathing for not having spoken up when she had figured it out. She hadn’t wanted to believe it was possible.

It wasn’t until months later when the trial was over and Pete was convicted of first degree murder that anyone else knew for sure what had happened between Beth and her brother. Pete had killed his sister because he couldn’t handle having to take care of her while she grew up, all the while irrationally blaming her for the death of their parents. The town mourned the loss of a young girl, and worked to recover from having been home to such an evil and disturbed young mind as Pete’s.

Monday, 16 September 2013

Only a Test


"This is only a test. Nothing's set in stone."
My mother's words circle around and around in my brain as I bend my leg at the knee and raise my foot onto the curb, feeling like every time I take a step, my whole body gets heavier. I can see the flag getting pulled tight by the wind way up at the top of the flag pole next to the school building, and it emphasizes the feeling of tardiness I've had rolling around in my stomach since I woke up at precisely 8:53 this morning, twenty minutes after I was supposed to be at school. Not only has the morning long begun for everyone inside the school, and I'm the one showing up an hour late, but all their school careers have long begun, and I'm the one arriving eleven years late. It's my first day attending an actual school, after being home schooled my whole life. My mother has always told me she kept me out of school because she wanted me to see the world, but I know the real reason behind all the travelling we've done is that she's always been scared of getting settled anywhere. She's afraid of real life, so any time things get too complicated, she starts over somewhere else. There are little beginnings of normal family lives that we've left behind all over Europe and Africa. The hardest to part with was Italy. I really could have lived in that ocean side city speckled with orange trees and woven together by tiny alleyways for the rest of my life and never felt trapped. The chilly breeze now snaking around my bare ankles only reminds me how much I'd rather be back there instead of where I am now. But I haven't really had much of a say lately since my mom met Craig and announced she and I would be moving in with him four months later. The only comforting thing I've been told is that this high school thing is only a test. Nothing's set in stone. But I'm trying not to focus too much on the option I have to back out if it all goes horribly wrong because I want it to work. As much as I'd be perfectly content with finishing school on my own, preferably in my pyjamas out on the porch in Italy with a mug of hot coffee resting on my chair arm, I can tell my mother is happy with Craig, and I have a feeling that even if my attending school isn't set in stone yet, their commitment to each other is. 
So, I step forward from the curb and begin making my way toward the school's front doors. By the time I've grasped my fist around the smooth metal handle and given it a good yank, my heart is beating so hard that I can just about feel it hitting my back teeth. There's no point in delaying going inside any longer, because I'm already incredibly late for my first day, so I shuffle on in, wipe my feet carefully on the long black mat, already covered in September leaves from every other pair of feet that walked in on time, inhale my first ever lung full of that school-ish scent, and pray hard that I don't throw up. 
This is only a test. Nothing's set in stone.