Holly has gone.

Holly has gone

lightly

a skip within her step

she is denying all

her past and

living for the moment

50 to go to the

restroom

 

a guitar upon the

stoop

lovely love and

longing more than

that little frame

can contain

a cat's whiskers

 

brush against her

ribs

a paper bag of love

and a train ticket

to explore

come with or come

without it will

not make Holly shout

 

Facing shore

but does she want to

the ocean is so big

and it loves me

the horizon beckons

it wants her

the fish are singing

while they weave between

her legs - a net

of love

of eternal life

she holds her breath

a moment

and lets it all go

and she is among

the stars

 

 

all rights reserved
This is just a first draft. And it was indeed written on bar napkins. And obviously inspired by a famous movie character.

The Case of the Runaway Sneaker

Written when I was Ten years old or so.

1979 maybe

 

            It was July 4^th, 1947. It was dawn at the boy scout summer camp for ten year olds. None of the boys were up yet. Their camp leader, Mars Homes was down by the river when a noise startled her. She turned around with a jerk. Then she heard the sounds of leaves crackling!

            She hestitated to run, for she was curious. Were the boys up yet? After she was sure of herself, she got to her feet. Slowly she went towards the camp.

            She checked on the boys. Each and every one were there. Ernie was there with Sam by his side. Leroy was againest Scot's back. Then she checked on the others.

            Ten minutes later they were all dressed, except Ernie. He could need not find his sneaker. Soon there was a search party formed. Leroy took South, Ernie took East, Scott the west, and Sam was left with North. Mrs Homes stayed at camp to watch the belongings. Everybody met at camp. There was no luck among them all.

            By that time, Mrs Homes had decided to call on Mr. Roy, a great detective. So all of the scouts packed into a camp bus and off they went. When they arrived the maid was washing the windows. Mrs Homes rang the bell and in less than a minute they were in his office. Before Mrs. Homes had time to talk, Ernie had told the whole story. Mr. Roy called his one and only child inside the room. Then introduced her. Her name was Valerie. She was his helper and assistant. Her father told her to pack her bags, she was going to camp with the scouts to help solve their problem.

            When they arrived at camp Mrs. Homes told the boys her name and they told her their names. Mrs. Homes showed pretty Valerie where she was to sleep which was with Mrs. Homes herself. The next day she went straight to work. She dressed and eat a fast breakfast of boxed cereal with milk. The first thing she did was question Ernie. She asked him when and where he last saw his sneaker. She also asked him if there was anything valuable inside it. His answer to the valuable question was, “Yes, a ring I found on Wednesday.” Just then Leroy called from outside. “Hey Ernie, what do you say we go down to Treasure Beach?” Ernie said with a laugh that he would come if Valerie came along. So Leroy agreed. They explored for quite some time.

            When they got back to camp they were greeted. They changed and climbed into their sleeping bags. It had been a long day. Valerie was sure the problem would be solved.

            Now it was July 7^th, 1947. Valerie was up first. She could not sleep. She was trying to think. What should she do next? She was puzzled. She would call her father. She quickly dressed and was on her way. She went to the nearest phone booth and called. His advice was to go to town and turn left, go three blocks and turn into a dirt road which would bring her to Treasure Beach. He also told her to bring a map which he had put into her bag. She was told to go to a point marked X. There she would find a cabin where “Mad Man Tom” lived. When she arrived at camp they were all up. She told them what she had done. Then went on her way with the map in her hand. When she arrived at the cabin she shook with fright. There was an old broken bench in front. The windows were smashed to pieces. She knocked at the half rotten door. “Hello in there!” she shrieked. She hestitated but slowly opened the door. Inside was a mean looking man.

Revenge

Revenge

 

 

I hoist the bat to my shoulder as I nervously stand at the door

I finally lift my hand to rap and wait for noise from inside

He deserves this display of raw anger after what he did to me

I call him names like maggot and faggot in my head

I remember all the things he said to me

I hear a shuffle behind the door and I steel myself

The door opens and I look right into those empty eyes

I see the flash of recognition and then the confusion

I push my way into the room and wielding my bat I bring it across his calves

As he crumples to the floor I say to him, “ how does it feel to be helpless?”

Out of the corner of my eye I see movement

Turning only slightly there is a small face peering at me from behind a toy chest

I turn to the victim and tell him that he will live tonight but he will never forget my charity

Storming out of the room I tell myself that I have made the right choice

I pick up my cell phone and call the police

“I have just assaulted the man that raped me in his home. His name is….”

 

all rights reserved.

 

The first date

The meeting is arranged by phone and text,
I'll wear that red sweater so you'll know it's me,
I'll be in the corner,
Watching the door,
I'll get there early,
With hopes of steeling up some jittery nerves,
With hopes of a handsome face leading the way for a handsome soul,
Coming to this place tonight to meet me.

I'll forget my own name when you approach my table,
I'll be embarrassed by my lack of charm,
That will set the tone for the whole encounter,
Or so, I will think,
But you will find me charming despite this,
And you will try to make me comfortable.

We will ask each other the standard questions,
Where do you work?
Do you like it?
Where are from?
Family?
And I'll tell you too much,
And I'll regret that for sure.

But you don't think I talk too much,
You are happy to listen,
You seem really interested.

But then it's getting late and it seems we should go,
You say it was nice to meet me,
My heart skips a beat,
Does that mean you will ask to see me again?
Did I really pull this off?
Did I really just meet someone who might want to see me again?

No. I didn't.
You walk me to my car and say thanks for the conversation.
You give me that awkward hug.
My nerves are on fire,
and my face I'm sure is bright red.
You say, "I'll see you around. Goodnight."

I get in my car and I collapse in tears.
I said too much.
I revealed how nervous I was,
It wasn't charming.

I wipe my face and pull out into traffic.
I don't see you looking back.
I don't see anything.
I don't see the 18 wheeler with it's lights off.
I don't see the look of horror on the drivers face as he realizes we are about to impact.
I don't see him and I don't see you.
And I don't see anything ever again.



(all rights reserved. Sharlene)

The house in the pine trees.

When I was little, about nine or ten years, I lived in a world of my own creation. I had a house in the pine trees that grew along the edge of our yard. There were three of them. Whispering pines was the name we gave them. I would make my bedroom under the biggest tree. The doorway to my house was a space between two of them. And the kitchen and living room were under the other two trees. I piled up pine needles to make my bed. I hung my cup on the branch of the kitchen tree. I would crawl around under those trees for hours. I would bring a book and a blanket sometimes.

My sister and I would take our rakes and make a little town in the yard. We would have roads that connected to each other. We rode our bikes up and down those roads that we had created by raking paths in the leaves. We would "go to work" and then come back to our houses to have dinner and sleep through the night. Waking up again only minutes later we would make breakfast and tidy our houses and then back to the bikes and our busy work days.

My sister's house was under the grape arbor. Her house was bigger and sturdier than mine. But she was bigger and that made sense. Sometimes we would go "visiting" and ride our bikes to the other ones house. They were only yards apart but in our world you needed to ride on the roads to get between them.

I don't know why I remembered this today, but I am finding myself missing my house in the pines. I liked it when I was laying there and the wind moved the pine needles and they whispered. And I liked it that my sister would play with me. It was nice growing up with a playmate. That yard is the same one that we used to play softball in. We would pratice hitting there. There were three big trees on the top of the bank at the end of the yard. My dad put up a fence of chicken wire connecting the trees and filling in the open space between them so that our balls wouldn't go into the road.  The chicken wire is gone now. The kids that live there now don't play in that yard so much. But it is a magical place and I hope they find that magic.

The little man started walking toward me. Faster and faster he walked. And then he was getting bigger. Bigger and bigger until he towered over me. He kept walking and I thought, “My goodness, he will not see me when he has reached me and he will step on me and that will be the end of me.” I tried to move. I could not. Not one inch, in any direction. I was stuck. But I didn’t know why. I didn’t know why I was here and why this giant man was walking toward me. And then just as suddenly he was not. Not only was he not walking; he was not growing. And not only was he not growing; he was shrinking. He got smaller and smaller and then he was gone. And then I was frightened of something that felt worse. He was no longer visible. Was he still there? Only so small that I couldn’t see him? Again, I tried to move. I wasn’t able to walk. But now I could move my arms and I could bend at my waist. I bent to look at the ground to see if the man was down there. And I got dizzy. The world began to spin and then it rocked as though I were on a boat. I drew in a deep breathe hoping that the man hadn’t become so small that I would inhale him and stood back up. There, everything stopped. That is when I heard the noise. There hadn’t been any noise before. The trees were full of birds of every type and color, and all of sizes. But not one of them had made a sound before. Now, they all began to whistle. Quietly at first, like they were whispering to one another and then louder so that it seemed they wanted me to notice them. And then much louder. And all of them sang the same tune. It was familiar to me but I couldn’t name it. They sang it over and over. Perhaps it was just a chorus. As I stood there and tried to recognize the song, my attention turned to the birds, I forgot about the man. And then realizing that I had forgotten him, I noticed him again. He was sitting on a log in the forest and he was playing a flute. I tried to move my feet again, to walk and began to float. I was being lifted up in the air. I looked down and saw a mass of music notes under my feet. The song was lifting me. I begged the birds to keep singing. I tried to whistle along. They didn’t like that and all stopped at once. “Oh no, I am so sorry to presume that I can make music as well as you! I will be quiet. Please continue!” They seemed to accept my apology and resumed their whistling. And then I yawned. Suddenly, I was in a different place. I was walking along a stream with giant flowers along its shore and beautiful butterflies flitting about. This seemed to be a safer place. Although, come to think of it, I wasn’t sure that I really had to be scared before. I didn’t think the man was planning on harming me. I wondered where he was and why I had left the forest. I came around a corner and found a little boat tied to a small pier. A frog dressed in a vest and top hat invited me aboard. He said his was name Cornelius and he would like to take me on a tour. I thought this would be okay and he helped me aboard. About a mile down the stream he began to tell me about the flowers and trees that we could see from the boat. He said they all were medicinal and very valuable and that he was trying to raise the money to buy the land around the stream to protect them. Some people wanted to build a casino along the banks of the stream. I thought that would be a strange place for a casino and then I looked out from the shore. The stream was now a river, so wide that I couldn’t see the other side. Cornelius explained that we had moved into the mighty river now and that the river would pick up speed soon and we would be swept out to sea if we didn’t turn around. “I would love to see the sea!” I exclaimed. He said, “Well you better go now, before I turn around.” He put his hand out on the water and stepping stones of lily pads popped up. And that was how I got to shore. Cornelius stood up in his little boat and turned around and the boat began going back up the river in the opposite direction of the flow. I thought to myself, “My, that is a magic little frog!” Before I could get my bearings a cat walked up to me and started rubbing himself on my leg. I bent down to pet his head and he turned into the man again. This time the man was my size. As he transformed and stood upright he bumped my head because he was coming up as I was bending down to pet him. We both exclaimed in surprise. He asked me what I was doing there and I assured him that I had no idea but that I was certainly intrigued by all the amazing things that had been going on. He said he was going to the sea to fish and if I felt inclined I could follow him. If I did though, I must promise to ask no questions and tell no lies. I agreed whole heartedly and we walked off in the direction that the frog had indicated. We walked for one day, then a whole night, and then a whole day. We never stopped walking the whole time and we never spoke. I was so tired and my feet hurt badly. I discovered that I had no shoes on and although the ground felt very much like a carpet, I was tired because we hadn’t stopped once. I kept up with him and tried to think of a way to find out why we didn’t stop without asking a question. We came up over a hill and then I saw it. I saw the sea. And it was exactly like the sea that I was used to. Big and endless looking, blue water, white waves, sandy beach, dune grass. It was all familiar. As soon as we reached the dune and I saw the dune crossing made of weather beaten wood I knew I would be resting soon. I ran over the dune crossing, I ran and ran, but the dune crossing never ended. I kept going and still the dune couldn’t be crossed. I fell to the floor and wept. All I wanted was to lay on the sand. And then the man came to me. He picked me up and he walked the rest of the way. He placed me gently on a blanket under a sun umbrella and he went to fish in the surf. I closed my eyes and went to sleep. In that dream, I experienced the most bizarre things, but I am afraid that I can’t seem to remember what happened. It seems often that when you want to remember something you just can’t. The dreams just run away as soon as you wake.

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 its 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