The Driver

As I trudged through the snow back to the car, I thought about how things could have gone differently, if only I were a stronger person, if only I were more self-aware, if only I said the right things at the right time. I knew this wasn’t going to help me out of this situation. I knew it would only make me feel bad, but I also felt like I deserved to feel bad. After all, this failure was mine. Just like the last one. I was going back to the car and leaving, sad and alone, because I didn’t have the strength to tell you the truth. To tell you anything. I let the party goers enjoy themselves and make fun of me. I let them tease me about my lack of confidence. I let them ignore me when I tried to join in conversations. I let them make me feel unwelcome. I helped them to make me feel those things. I was shy and nervous and I didn’t fit in. I don’t know why I keep trying. I don’t why, on this winter’s night, I thought I could come to your party and talk to you and tell you how I felt about you. I had hoped a dream could come true, but they don’t, at least not for me.

And so I got in the car and I drove away. And I didn’t ever come back. Another missing person to put on the milk carton. But no one put my picture out there, did they? My foster parents reported me missing but they only did what they had to do. In a few months I’d be out of the “system” anyway. No one to miss me, no one to care, no one to be obligated for me.

I went to Landfield, Mississippi after that. I hadn’t planned on it. I just ran out of money. I hadn’t planned on driving away that night. I just got in the car and I drove as far as it took me. I didn’t have anything that I couldn’t leave behind, so I just went. I’d been pretty much living out of the car anyway. I wouldn’t be let in the house if it was after curfew and those stubborn fosters refused to understand that I couldn’t get home from my part time job at the bowling alley all the way across town before they wanted to lock down the house. So, I’d keep extra stuff in the car and sneak into the house after they left for work. I knew one day something like this would happen. Felt it in my bones and so the only things I cared about were with me in the car. The car, the only thing I had from my old life. It had been a present for my 16^th birthday, two days before the fire took my family. Two days before the worst years of my life began.

So, now here I am, at the edge of 18 and a runaway. Out of money in Mississippi with just a car that I can’t afford to fuel. There are choices to be made. Options that aren’t very appealing. I have to do something. I can’t stand the hunger. I’ve lost some weight in the last couple of weeks. My clothes are dirty and I’m starting to get those looks when I’m walking down the street. I don’t go far. I don’t want to lose the car too. I was lucky enough to find a warehouse to park it behind. The janitor there said he’d keep an eye out. He doesn’t make me feel that safe but he’s the only one that’s been nice to me. He offered me a joint the other night. I turned it down. I can only imagine what it might have been laced with. It’s thoughts like these that keep me safe, but they also hurt my heart. I don’t want to be hard and jaded. I want to be a normal kid. They say you grow up fast on the streets. I don’t know if I believe that. I feel younger and more vulnerable than ever. It’s only been a couple of months.

At least it’s not too cold here. It’s pretty damp, but it’s not too cold.

(all rights reserved -Sharlene)

dialogue

Some of the greatest lines I've ever written come from dreams. They are just lines that I remember, usually completely out of context. I don't always remember what was happening in the dream that brings up the thought or line of dialogue but I'll find myself repeating the line over and over again until I wake up enough to write it down. It happened to me the other night. I wish I could remember what the dream was about. I remember another dream that must have happened close after or just before, but the not the one the line comes from. By now you are wondering what the line was, huh?

"We were like a little gang, sharing antibiotics and lovers." (all rights reserved. Don't steal this!)

Deep, right? What or who could I have been dreaming about? But dang, what a line! Someday, I hope I can use it. One day I hope to write lines like that one while I'm awake. And many more of them. Stories need a lot more than one really great line.

And what kind of dialogue was this? Was it the omniscient narrator? Was it one of the characters describing himself and others to someone? I guess I'll find out if I ever getting around to using it in a story.

The dream that happened around the same time was one of those where you feel the moment in your body. I don't know what those are called. (excuse me one second while I go "google that") Lucid Dreams...that the term I was looking for to describe how this dream felt to me. I was in a vary narrow and long boat, similar to a kayak, but open like a canoe. I'd never seen this type of  boat before, but now that I'm thinking about, it might have been like one of the boats they use for crew. What are those called? Scull. Hold on a second! It was a single scull. That was the boat. Anyhow, I was on a lake, but it was super still, no waves at all. The water was very dark and it was night time. I started skimming around on the top of the lake and was going in every widening circles and increasing speed. I was heading outside of the light of a big flood lamp that was over the water and someone asked me where I was going and I told them that I didn't know but that I was just trying to go very fast. I could feel the sway and speed of the boat. Mind you, I have never in this lifetime been in a scull boat, let alone a single. I don't swim well, and I don't row crew! So, it was one of those weird dreams that either stem from some desire to try something or maybe it's a past life memory. In any event, it was a powerful dream. I woke up and my whole body was "pins and needles".

That was quite a night.

between the window and the screen

Year after year she returned

Making sure the rip in the screen was still there

Her doorway to her lair

She would repair and remodel

Spruce it up and then leave it

Spring came around and she would too

She would fuss about

Making the floor comfortable and the sides strong

Making sure it was secure

Between the window and the screen

Summer

The nest stayed empty

Fall

The nest stayed empty

Winter

We didn’t think about it all

Spring arrived again

And she was back

Pulling downy feathers from her breast

Bringing flowers and grass to cushion the eggs

And now, three little birds

And now we get to watch

And see our little friend

Her preparations paying off

To raise her children

In the nest between the window and the screen.

Articles of clothing,

One shoe there,

Another maybe there,

A purse,

A hat,

Empty glass,

Melting ice,

Still smoking cigar,

A fire smoldering in the hearth,

Another smoldering in her heart.

A sudden phone call and he was gone,

The tracks in the snow still warm,

The car miles down the road,

The man returning to his wife.

She was tricked by his words,

His promises,

His charm.

He was unfaithful to her,

And to his wife,

And he’d lied to both.

She felt foolish,

Young,

Betrayed,

Spoiled.

She would learn from this

And would be jaded in future affairs,

She would never have a first again,

And she had wasted it on him.

If only she could go back and

Return to innocence,

And happiness.

She had wanted to be grown up,

To have an adult relationship,

It had been so glamorous,

A cabin in the mountains,

A weekend to themselves,

But one call had ruined it all,

He had confessed his lies,

He hadn’t left his wife after all.

He wasn’t single,

He wasn’t available,

He wasn’t hers.

And so now,

This bitter and hurting young women,

Has learned what many already know,

The pain of being left.

(all rights reserved - SET)

I don't know what to do

I don’t know what to do.
I found you in an alley.
I was only taking a short cut,
You were behind the Chinese restaurant,
Hopefully not just eating from the trash.
I hoped that maybe they fed you.
You looked so sad and scared,
You wouldn’t make eye contact.
I looked around to see if you were really all alone.
I should have called someone for help,
But I didn’t know who to call.
And so I am left with thought and prayers,
And does that really help?
I should have taken you home.
Everyone deserves a home.
But do I have enough to spare?
I don’t know what to do.
There are so very many of you,
And only one that’s you.
I’ll go back and check on you.
I’ll see what I can do.

S. Thornton All Rights Reserved

The Ravages of Time

They had a parade,
the day the watch factory stopped.
Two by two they walked down the street.
Husbands and wives,
workers and spouses,
away from the quitting time bell,
for the last time.


The building would empty,
and there it would sit,
with it's clocktower reminder,
that would eventually stop keeping time.


The couples moved on.
They embarked on new journeys;
two by two,
as if joining Noah's ship,
they packed up and left.


The building would crumble,
brick after brick,
with no life inside,
the hands of clock had stopped.
Soon they would fall,
succumbing to the ravages of time.



Sharlene Thornton, All Rights Reserved. 8/21/13

perhaps a pint at home

There’s trouble at the station,

 I’d advise you not to go,

The underground is too dark tonight,

 And you will never make it back by light.

 

The police man said it was thieves,

And vandals.

But that’s only the prelim.

Perhaps you better take a taxi, dear,

And that would be alright.

 

I know you say you aren’t afraid,

And the coppers have got it controlled,

But perhaps you need not add,

to the confusion and the fray,

Perhaps you ought to stay.

 

You don’t need to go about,

They will miss you at the pub,

But there’s trouble at the station,

And who knows how it might spread,

Perhaps a pint at home, instead?

 

There’s trouble at the station,

 And a cab is so expensive,

Perhaps a pint at home instead.

 

 all rights reserved..Sharlene Thornton 2017