Kathy watched quietly from the middle of the crowd. Every Friday night it was the same bar, the same band, the same people. She knew all of the regulars by sight: the short, dark-haired man who stood, as always, on the fringes of the crowd and spoke to no one; the long, lanky cowboy in ripped jeans with sleepy-sexy eyes and a bandanna knotted loosely around his neck who leaned against the rough wooden rail to the left of the band; the three girls who stood always near the front and talked to the band during breaks.
There was a gradual shift in the crowd as the years passed, especially... Read More
A peek of the red lace fluffed from my blouse. London plaid skirt clung to my waist... then pleated down my upper thigh. Black knee-length combat boots..tightly laced. My hair pulled back in rippled ponytail and bright red lipstick. I carried my favorite Burberry Journal just to top the look off. It was my ode to Great Britain.
Not my usual attire for the library, but I knew he'd be there. His monthly lecture on "The New Developments In Medicine." was just wrapping up.. The stiffs, shuffling out the room. Stale musky air on their backs. Tan and Beige wool coats..gray and blue... Read More
"Good night Sweetheart, well, it's time to go, dah dah dah dah da.. Good night Sweetheart, well it's time to go.." hummed from her throat.
She wore a black pinstriped, pencil length skirt, with tailored white shirt deeply tucked. She loosely toddled with wide hips. Her weight shifting uneasy on her crooked heel; bent from an unfortunate mishap with a sidewalk crack.
A veiled, black Pill Box Hat, covered her dark hair; with a few tasselled strands, flustering about. She oozed step by step. Stealthily, she glided. Her head held high and a yellow clutch buried underneath her... Read More
I remember the day I came back from school to Grandpa and Grandma’s house to find a new wooden cabinet in their library room. Grandma had already laid a lace place mat on top – an island of white against the dark, almost black wood – and I wondered which of her ornaments it was meant for. With a moist mop she wiped invisible dust off the shiny surface. “This is a television,” she said, sliding aside the cabinet’s doors – like rolling shutters – to reveal a gray glass screen.
“Can we watch it? Can we watch it now? Please?”
“I don't know how. We must wait for Grandpa.”
“Can... Read More
Across my side it stretched. Down to my hip. The bandage wasn’t large enough.. So, I covered it with paper towels and tape..
Pink oozed from the sides. No time to worry.. I threw on my tank top, and black sweat shirt. Zipped and pulled the hood to cover my hair.. flung open the bathroom door.. and on the sofa I returned.
“I wanted to tell you.. but I didn’t know how..” I know your angry and should be, I promise it won’t happen again..”
I listened too intently that my side ached extensively.. My hard lips burned. My elbows itched. My pants hurt between my legs.... Read More
He ripped them off. Plucked each turned feather..and ripped them off. Naked, and no longer able to fly..it sits; (she sits). No longer beautiful, or priceless. Broken, shameful, and unwanted.
She once flew high..with bright magenta wings..Velvety blue crown with royal purple crest...soaring boundless, relentless, and elevated. Beautiful feathers she stretched wide. Proud for all to see.
While fishing he spotted the Rare, Radiant Beauty. He vowed and made an adamant declaration,"I gotta have that bird." Arrogant and confident "I WILL have that bird!"
She smiled... Read More
One evening the insomniac came home from work. It was late. The front porch had no lights, and the streetlight wasn’t enough to illuminate the keyhole as he struggled to open the door. The neighborhood was quiet like a ghost town. He manages to get the door open and walks inside, quietly. Once inside he closes the door as it squeaks shut. The living room is dark and a large fish tank vaguely lights part of the house. His eyes adjust to the interior of the home. The couch is occupied by a room-mate, who is the owner of the house. His bedroom is being used by his parents, who are visiting from... Read More
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Very nice Uttam, keep writing...
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Thanks a lot Barb for your comments...I am certainly so over whelmed by your comprehension of my article...You have so soulfully mentionerd in your comments and that itself is a testimoney of your understanding to the scenario s of life under which we...