as if inside our skulls, instead of the brain, we felt a fish, floating, attracted by the Moon.

Friday, November 20, 2009

darkened soot and the bones of fish

I post way too often for a blog that [maybe] one or two people read.
but that's not the point of this, I guess. the point is just to be writing
(not that I write anything of value here, this isn't poetry or prose).

I decided on a name for the girl in the story I've been writing on and off for several months: Edith.

(don't let my time frame fool you; this story is only one and a half pages, single space.)

this is how I feel a lot of the time.
this is how I feel a lot of the time.
this is how I feel a lot of the time.
this is how I feel a lot of the time.
this is how I feel a lot of the time.
this is how I feel a lot of the time.
this is how I feel a lot of the time.

here is a piece of the beginning of my [very]short story:

The wind ate up the Blue House in the Gully as Edith rocked herself slow and steady, her knees pulled up to her chest. Hair ribbon askew, thin fingers shaking, she watched the glass tighten in the window frame.
Several miles north from the center of town the road forked, rolled to the right, and flopped uselessly into the woods. The ugly trees, their nervous fingers parting, twisted into anxious positions along side the dirt road as it fell down, down, down, into a pebbled driveway. The Blue House in the Gully lay at the bottom of this swirling mess, rotten as ever.
The wind ached and writhed, Edith’s voice rose and broke in little whispery screams each time a rock hit the window. Edith hated storms, hated storms, hated storms. Eventually, unable to remain inside any longer, Edith pulled a sheer white gown over her nightdress, taking stumbling, drunken steps through the door and over the stones in the grass to her car outside. She moaned and shrieked as the wind tore at her eyes, gasping when she finally fell into the driver’s seat. The key grumbled unhappily in the ignition.
After twenty minutes of driving, holding the steering wheel at her nose, Edith approached civilization. The wind picked up, screaming and yelling its guttural demon noises on the other side of the car windows. Edith screamed along with it. She pulled into the parking lot of Way’s, wrenching the key out, gasping, moaning, shaking in her seat.
She purchased several packets of gum in her bedclothes and drove back, trying not to die.

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bitte sag etwas.