short halloween tales of terror or cat got your tongue?
***
EVER KNOW SOMEONE WHO AFFECTS YOU IN STRANGE WAYS? EVER KNOW ANYONE WHO DOESN'T?
I did this little dandy of a picture yesterday and spun a sweet little slice of life story out of it. Relationships can be frustrating ... and fun. Did I say spun? Actually, it jumped out of a corner and hit me in the head:
CATS IN SMOKE SET HEART ON FIRE
Belle in the Night
If only the ringing would stop. I don’t mind the fog outside my window, slipping through the crack. It settles on me like the chime of a mantle clock at one in the morning, which it is. But that woman upstairs with the bells, around her ankles no less, moving to and fro like a cat, which she may be. The super calls her Tinkerbell and thinks she’s funny, with her black pedal-pushers and turtleneck sweaters and hanging plants, all strung out on macramé dreams, twisted knots, and threads unraveling one-by-one. Sometimes the ringing stops, and it makes me even crazier because I know it's going to start again. I think she knows and does it on purpose. Stays up all night like that to torment me, and only she and I know it.
Pillow’s damp. Both of them. I raise myself from the sofa and try to make friends with the dark. I ease over to the front door. My hand reaches out and trips the light switch. A small pssssttt, a cold white flash, and darkness again. No fresh bulbs to change and I already took two from the lamps in the living room. I’m thirsty and make my way to the refrigerator in the dark and manage not to trip over anything. I’ve done this before.
As the door swings open and a crack of cold light slices through the opening, I grab a bottle of beer, unscrew the cap, take a sip, then set it on the table. Brainstorm! I unscrew the bulb. Of course the light goes out and it’s dark again, so I reverse my steps, leaving the door ajar so I can transfer the bulb to the gold lamp, the one with the cherubs.
A few minutes later and I’m propped up on the sofa again. I begin reading from an old issue of Time to make myself sleepy - a story about a woman who escaped serious injury from a gunshot by wearing a water bra. It works and an hour must have passed because when I open my eyes and grab for my beer on the coffee table it’s warm. I frown and "tsk" once and then the sound seems to echo across the living room.
When I turn around, there she is - Tinkerbell, looking rather small and helpless in my shiny black pj’s with the red trim, her coal black hair and coal black eyes moving steadily into my space as if in slow motion. Her eye are tinged a little pink, her mascara a little runny, and she sniffles like she has a cold.
“I was scared,” she said, “and I’m sorry too.”
“I guess I am too,” I said, pretending to be. “It was all my fault.”
I’ve done this before.
She looks over at the bottle of beer on the coffee table, nestled in it's salty wet slick.
“But no coaster on my beautiful coffee table? You are such an animal. You’re going to have to pay.”
“Isn’t this how it all started,” I smiled. She chucks my chin lightly. Her perfume momentarily mesmerizes me. I recover my wits.
“Oh, you’re gonna get it twice as bad now,” she coos, moving around to my side of the sofa. The tinkling across the floor almost drives me crazy, but I keep my cool. As she grabs a napkin lying on the table to wipe away the wet ring next to my magazine, I pick up the beer bottle, ever so delicately.
***
I’m gonna wait 'til the stars come out
See them twinkle in your eyes
I'm gonna wait 'til the midnight hour
That's when my love begins to shine
:)
EVER KNOW SOMEONE WHO AFFECTS YOU IN STRANGE WAYS? EVER KNOW ANYONE WHO DOESN'T?
I did this little dandy of a picture yesterday and spun a sweet little slice of life story out of it. Relationships can be frustrating ... and fun. Did I say spun? Actually, it jumped out of a corner and hit me in the head:
CATS IN SMOKE SET HEART ON FIRE
Belle in the Night
If only the ringing would stop. I don’t mind the fog outside my window, slipping through the crack. It settles on me like the chime of a mantle clock at one in the morning, which it is. But that woman upstairs with the bells, around her ankles no less, moving to and fro like a cat, which she may be. The super calls her Tinkerbell and thinks she’s funny, with her black pedal-pushers and turtleneck sweaters and hanging plants, all strung out on macramé dreams, twisted knots, and threads unraveling one-by-one. Sometimes the ringing stops, and it makes me even crazier because I know it's going to start again. I think she knows and does it on purpose. Stays up all night like that to torment me, and only she and I know it.
Pillow’s damp. Both of them. I raise myself from the sofa and try to make friends with the dark. I ease over to the front door. My hand reaches out and trips the light switch. A small pssssttt, a cold white flash, and darkness again. No fresh bulbs to change and I already took two from the lamps in the living room. I’m thirsty and make my way to the refrigerator in the dark and manage not to trip over anything. I’ve done this before.
As the door swings open and a crack of cold light slices through the opening, I grab a bottle of beer, unscrew the cap, take a sip, then set it on the table. Brainstorm! I unscrew the bulb. Of course the light goes out and it’s dark again, so I reverse my steps, leaving the door ajar so I can transfer the bulb to the gold lamp, the one with the cherubs.
A few minutes later and I’m propped up on the sofa again. I begin reading from an old issue of Time to make myself sleepy - a story about a woman who escaped serious injury from a gunshot by wearing a water bra. It works and an hour must have passed because when I open my eyes and grab for my beer on the coffee table it’s warm. I frown and "tsk" once and then the sound seems to echo across the living room.
When I turn around, there she is - Tinkerbell, looking rather small and helpless in my shiny black pj’s with the red trim, her coal black hair and coal black eyes moving steadily into my space as if in slow motion. Her eye are tinged a little pink, her mascara a little runny, and she sniffles like she has a cold.
“I was scared,” she said, “and I’m sorry too.”
“I guess I am too,” I said, pretending to be. “It was all my fault.”
I’ve done this before.
She looks over at the bottle of beer on the coffee table, nestled in it's salty wet slick.
“But no coaster on my beautiful coffee table? You are such an animal. You’re going to have to pay.”
“Isn’t this how it all started,” I smiled. She chucks my chin lightly. Her perfume momentarily mesmerizes me. I recover my wits.
“Oh, you’re gonna get it twice as bad now,” she coos, moving around to my side of the sofa. The tinkling across the floor almost drives me crazy, but I keep my cool. As she grabs a napkin lying on the table to wipe away the wet ring next to my magazine, I pick up the beer bottle, ever so delicately.
***
I’m gonna wait 'til the stars come out
See them twinkle in your eyes
I'm gonna wait 'til the midnight hour
That's when my love begins to shine
:)