It is possible that even in the eye of the storm we necessitate some discontent; it wouldn’t be the eye otherwise. At first the lull of lazy swells are a welcome break from constant torrents of tidal waves; although eventually everyone tires of sunbathing, leisurely sipping a beverage adorned with umbrella, and dipping toes into blue waters. Has anyone ever stopped to ask why? Bothering with sloshing otherwise still bathwater onto the floor of life to embitter, mold, and slip over seems exhausting to me.
Tag Archives: Short story
Let’s take a journey together this evening; down a sidewalk past tall brick buildings, across streets, and into a park. The park is flourishing with color and vibrant with life; there are old stone benches, newer metal ones, and some wooden benches from sometime in the past. You’ll notice these things while strolling down the thin trail; you’ll also observe a woman sitting upon a stone bench.
Middle school was a life changing time for me; those two years were the beginning of outside influences on my personality. Before middle school I was a quiet but confident child that said whatever whenever which was never a terrible thing- my words harmed nobody and empowered all. I didn’t go out much preferring to sit in my room reading a book or playing with various pets, and yes- spending time with my family. I had lost interest in involving myself with the neighborhood kids and lacked friends otherwise. In school I concentrated on my studies or expressions of creativity opposed to making a ruckus and passing notes with other girls. Seventh grade science class changed that.
The summer my father bought me a motorcycle was one of the most adventurous and memorable summers of my life. I arrived for a visit with him in Tennessee from Michigan for a much needed vacation from the chaos that was my life senior summer of high school. The motorcycle was sitting outside his home-tel and at first I was confused thinking he had gotten himself a new motorcycle, then realized it was a Buell Blast- the very bike I wanted for myself. Ecstatic I waited impatiently for my dad to be done with his day so that we could ride.
“More tea Hartford?” Lottie inquired to the polar bear with a red bowtie. Hartford continued to ogle the small ceramic teapot hovered over his cup and saucer. Lottie poured the tea “You’re very welcome Hartford. Do just help yourself to crumpets as you please.”
I sit on the floor staring at the chair in front of me. It’s old and rickety and doesn’t wish to be used, which means I can’t move it, can’t sit in it, can’t put anything on it; this chair is just setting in the corner, facing out the window. The legs of the chair are spindly and long, the feet curved shoes for rocking, its seat narrow and ornate. Carvings of vines and flowers cover the chair- across the headrest over the armrests into the seat and down the legs wrapping around the feet. The back is wide, padded, a leather cover to be aesthetically pleasing. I stare at it, cross legged on the floor, wondering what she wants now; why she is so quiet and unmoving.