Thursday, January 14, 2010

Time in a bottle

The first thing that I’d like to do is to save everyday…

The summertime is my favorite. The days are so lazy and all I want to do is lay in bed. Every morning I wake up and listen. Maybe this is the day that daddy will come home, so I can’t lay in bed all day I have to get up and get ready for him to walk through the door.

I start the beautiful day with a bath. Momma leaves for work every morning at six. She comes in and kisses me goodbye and tells me that she will see me later for my coca-cola. I lay there for exactly thirty minutes listening closely to the porch.

Daddy worked nights. He would come home from work each morning in the summertime exactly thirty minutes after momma would leave. I would hear his boots climbing the stairs, but I would pretend to still be asleep. He would come in and call out to me. He would call out and tell me he to get up because he was coming to get me. I would bury my head way down in the covers, and sometimes put the pillow over my head.

He would walk down the hall real loud to warn me he was coming. The giggles would start way down inside of me. By the time he made it across the room to my bed I would be giggling so loud, but trying to be still. He would pull back the covers and tickle me until I thought I was going to pee in my pants. Then I would get up and head to the bathroom and he would run the water for me to take my bath. So that is how I start my day every day, except now there are no footsteps, no deep gruff voice calling out to me, and no giggling, only a bath.

Monday, January 11, 2010

The Muse

Wendell felt groggy as he began to wash up. His head was pounding, and he felt very different. He knew where he was and what he was doing, but he wasn't sure how he had ended up on the floor of the living room. He remembered coming in from the fields quickly before a storm, but that was it.

As he finished washing up he could smell Cecilia's fried chicken in throughout the house. He loved her fried chicken. It must be a special occasion because she only made it on Sunday's and special occasions. It wasn't Sunday was it? How long had he been out cold on the floor? He could feel the anxiety rising up in his chest. This was an unfamiliar feeling to him. Why was he anxious? This was the house that he had lived in his whole life, and yet something was different. Something was very different.

"Wendell, lunch is ready," called Cecilia.

"I'm on my way." he called back down the hall.

What was he going to do? Would she notice that things were different? Was it something that could be noticed? Wendell's head began to spin again. When he first woke up his head was spinning, his whole body hurt, and he was disoriented. He recognized the living room, but it was somehow different.

Something caught his eye. He turned to catch a glimpse of what was there and it was gone. Strange.

As Wendell walked out of the bathroom he almost ran right into Cecilia in the hallway.

"Are you coming? It's getting cold?"

"Yeah right now."

Thursday, January 7, 2010

Time in a bottle

If I could save time in a bottle…

That’s the song that was playing on the radio when my daddy left one night to get some milk for the morning. Ever since that day I decided that I would save every bottle until he came home. When I started I thought he would only be gone for a day or two, maybe a week, but now I have over four hundred bottles lined up in my room.

I make it a point to have a bottle of real coca-cola every day. I walk to the same store daddy was supposed to get milk from and put in my fifty cents and get a litle glass bottle of coke from the machine outside.

I made another decision that night, I would never drink another glass of milk until my daddy came home. Momma buys a gallon of milk each week. She gives me a glass every morning with my breakfast and one at night with supper, but I never touch it. Momma says I need milk to make my bones strong and that my teeth are gonna rot out, but I just tell her that only when daddy comes home will I drink a glass of milk again.

I am sure of most things. I don’t have lots of questions, but I have always wondered one thing. What does time look like when it is being saved in a bottle, and how do I know I am doing it right?

New one...

I can't seem to finish anything I start writing...
I am going to finish the Muse...this is what I have decided:
Monday I will post to The Muse
Thursday I will post to the new one

I hope this helps me stay focused on finishing and also keeps some variety in my life...I get so bored with stories I begin. I think this is why I can't finish the book I started SOOOOO long ago....Enjoy!