I just recently had this idea of writing a novel based on all of these little short tidbits of stories I've been writing over the past month. It makes perfect sense for the short attention span theatre of today's society...write little snippets of stories like these ten minute vignettes I'm doing, and let people's imagination run away with them, instead of having me be their guide. That being said...here are three more blasts of fiction, written in ten minute blocks...see where it takes you.
She opened her eyes...
To the glaring blue sky framed by the tall branches of a coastal redwood. She could feel the breeze, smell the salt on the air and taste dried blood on the edges of her mouth. Blinking once, then again, she sank into the stillness that was now and without moving her head, cast her eyes about. Sound seemed to be long way away, as if she were underwater but with the crystal clarity of squeegeed glass. Her body was scratchy lying clothesless on the droppings of this forest and she wasn't sure how to achieve movement. From an unfathomable distance, strength came walking into her transfixed vision and offered a helping hand. With only her mind moving, she took the familiar crutch and in a snow-glass blur felt the whole world fall out from under her. The leaves gave way to space, the treetops receded into the blue heavens and darkness began to close the area around her vision. A "what was happening" fear quickly turned to careless relaxation as falling through time and space was effortless and peaceful.
The room was empty...
When they burst through the door of the second story apartment. Looking for the greasespots that ripped them off, Tony and Angie had followed the two hippies in the their caustic meanderings for the past two days. They had continually returned to this non-descript building on East 23rd to re-stock, re-fuel, have sex, and douse more patchouli on themselves two or three times a day. Hippies are a weird sot, and as Tony had found out, they are as opportunistic as hungry rats when it comes to dope. Not always the peace, love and "let's just get along' vibe that they make themselves out to be, but more along the lines of the 'let's get something for nothing, work the system and take advantage of every free lunch out there. It's one thing to be a drug user, quite another to be a drug thief. If you can't afford it, don't use it, a simple mantra to Tony and Angie and the principal reason they were dealers and not washed up into the corners of society like high tide detritus. They trusted their clients and their clients trusted them creating a rare network of circular good will when it came to drugs. But this was different as they surveyed the despair in the broken room of people living like animals in the third world. The only thing moving scurried from under the bed to behind the sink. A plate of filth sat on a littered table decorated by childish drawings of a junkie higher than a peach pie on Sunday.
Did you drop this?...
I found it walking down the street just north of the park I usually see you in. I happened to be out watching the trees slowly come out of their winter hibernation, seeing the new moms with their spring packages all tucked into warmth, and the dogs loping idiotically behind. It looked lonely and cold, not exactly dressed for the weather and seemingly out of place here in the city. You have one of those kind faces with smiling eyes that I think fondly of when I see something in my imagination that belongs to you. I wonder if you know it's missing, if you think you just misplaced it or you have a hole in your day because you know, just know deep down in your soul, that it up and walked out on you. In that case, should I try and return it, or tuck it in with me, feed it, love it, nurture it and watch it grow into a beauty only the stars can imagine?
What do you do with a found broken heart?
