Another Day In Paradise
(Short story)
We all have our dreams.
Robert knows he and Becky need to leave. They have no business being here. In his mind, coming to St. Pete was a mistake.
“I’m sorry to have you out here on the streets, love,” he tells her as they survey the small community they’ve made with the other homeless people. “I feel bad about it.”
“I know ya do, Robert,” she answers him. “I know.”
Her eyes follow his gaze at their surroundings. From the middle of Tent City, it looks deceptively festive, like the circus coming to town. But the reality is that living in the encampment is anything but festive; it is a cold, hungry black hole in the middle of one’s soul, gnawing away at them every bit as much as the lack of food.
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File Size: | 33 kb |
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The Whisper
(Poem)
I am loud.
I love vibrant colors--
Pillarbox red, midnight blue,
emerald green, splashy yellow,
in-your-face orange,
and sounds so colorful,
they make your heart dance
like a whirling kite in a
high wind,
bobbing,
dipping--
flutes, wind, laughter.
The down side
is loving rainy days,
where the only color
is gray,
with the neon signs
reflecting off the
wet pavement,
and the wind howls
as it drives the downpour,
gusting across the road,
slapping legs and back.
I am loud,
and love extremes,
usually the intense,
boisterous ones.
And when I met the
man I love,
how did he call to me?
He whispered.
You Asked
(Short Story)
My mama may've raised a fool, but it sure wasn't me...or my sister!
But there was still a touch of nagging doubt in the back of my mind. Then there was the fact that he introduced me to his girlfriend--alleged girlfriend—at work, a skanky-looking woman named Sue whose short black hair looked like it had been done by the same hair-dresser who’d worked on the Straw Man in the Wizard Of Oz.
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Rebel
(Poem)
“Sit down and shut up,”
he orders with a snarl.
I have been to hell and back,
seen things--
no, experienced them--
that no living being,
human or otherwise,
should know exists.
There are abuses which,
bad enough when done by unknown,
are a thousand times worse
when done in the name of love.
There are those who bully for what they want,
who fight without conscience against us all,
unless someone is brave enough to
STAND UP
and break the cycle.
Sooner
(or later)
the beaten spirit does one of two things:
either it breaks, withers and dies,
or becomes a strong warrior,
becoming one who will fight back against the wrong.
I have lived too much to go back.
Now, looking for new relationships,
I see through the gauzy,
glittery
starry-eyed good times,
and frequently see to the center,
the rigid unyielding core of a person.
I have to to survive.
And so,
I slide from the stool by the restaurant counter,
stand tall, strong,
and,
looking straight into his surprised eyes,
state in a loud,
clear,
strong voice,
“I will not sit down.
I will not shut up.”
Night Walk
(Short Story)
If anything were to happen, no one would hear. Especially at night...
You’re sitting in your favorite chair in the living room. The 11:00 news is almost over; in five minutes, it will end and The Tonight Show will play across the screen. One of your favorite musicians is due on, playing with the band, then being interviewed to promote his new album.
“Mom! I forgot the bike at work!”
Your daughter, who just turned fifteen and has her very first job, has been home since 8:30. The job, almost a mile away, has a bike rack, but bikes left overnight have been known to disappear; even the locked bikes are easy prey.
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File Size: | 44 kb |
File Type: | doc |