One more month until college is out for winter break, and I’m tired as heck from maintaining a 4.0 GPA (more like 3.9, but we can round up), so let’s talk Disney. And because I can’t stand reading anything else right now, I refuse to answer in anything other than visuals. Continue reading “The Happiest Quiz on Earth”
Navaeh took the long road.
Over the mountain,
Under the bridge.
Around the woods,
Through the brook.
Past the cave,
Over the ravine.
Against the Devil,
Alongside her Angel.
Navaeh took the long road to Heaven.
© Placer County, California | April 2016
He found the note taped to his bedroom window. Where it came from, he hadn’t a clue, but still he read the messy handwriting smudged with ink.
“Let’s do something tonight. You and me. Let’s teepee your neighbor’s house. Let’s hitchhike across the country with only 50 bucks in our pockets. Let’s graffiti the overpass on the freeway, or race carts in the grocery store and start a food fight. Let’s stand on the edge of a skyscraper and pretend to push each other off. Let’s get drunk in the dark and laugh till our heads can’t take it. Let’s drive off to nowhere and stick our heads out the windows, going 90 miles an hour. Let’s blast the music so loud the neighbors call the cops. Let’s buy plane tickets to Italy, or take a boat out on the ocean. Let’s hop on a freight train and hang off the sides. Let’s do something. Tonight.”
He shook his head in wonder. Only one person could write like this.
“You’re insane,” he murmured, folding the slip.
A bang of a door, a jingle of keys, and a ghost of a knock later, he peered down at her face in the shadowy doorway, eyes glinting gold amongst brown.
“Let’s do it all.”
She stares down at the pages,
Blank lines, rough scribbles,
Fragmented sentences smudged with black ink.
She rips out yet another page.
Paper crumples and tears,
Hits the wall,
Filled with words she wants to say,
But does not know how.
A huff sends her bangs flying,
A bump sends the hanging pictures rattling.
A moment’s silence,
A rustle of the sheets,
And she presses her ballpoint to the lines.
Maybe this time the words will flow.
© July 2015 | Placer County, California
(Photo taken by me…of me, but we’ll overlook that.)
Wind in her hair,
Sun on her face,
Sweet oxygen in her lungs.
America’s perfect darling.
And yet her shell cracks,
Revealing the storm beneath.
No longer perfect,
Scarred and stained.
She put on her face
© July 2015 | Sacramento, California