11/8/09: teabag, call, Jonas

 

Thirteen dips, just like gram had taught her, and the teabag went onto the little chipped rose plate. 

She needed to call Jonas today. Reschedule. She pushed the flowery note into the pile of her other to-dos, and cupped the warm mug in her palms.

Throught the window she could see that it was still a bit cloudy. The sun had not yet burned through. She blew on her tea and pushed the screan open and walked out onto the porch. The rough wood boards were cool against her bare feet.

She liked the way he listened to her. Jonas. Liked his name. But still she didn’t want to share her pain with him. How could he understand losing a husband? A child? He was young, unmarried, no children. He was fresh and innocent and ….

…so what if he was her age. It didn’t change things. Ok, so they were both young. Still inside she ached for Keith. And baby Jocelyn. Ached in ways Jonas would never know.

She sipped her tea, unnoticed tears slipping over her upperlip into the amber liquid.

 

11/7/09: gun, witchita, board

On his way outta Wichita, gun on the dashboard, he wondered what had got him to this place.

Why he felt he had to do this.

Wild dog in the back. He could have asked Ron to do it for him. But Dash was his dog.

Why’d his pet have to get bitten? No other reports of rabidity in the county – but then Dash was a squirrel killer.

It had a morbid sence of humor…

11/6/09: ivy, run, wither

He was withering.

After 7 hours running at a speed of a mile in 5.5 minutes he was withering.

Definitely and absolutely.

This was not his idea of a race.

Running in the rain through ivy covered trails.

It was creepy and smelly in a weird claustrophobic way….

Todays Words: scared, monkey, rift

Tera pressed her nose against the glass.

“C’mear little monkey!” her breath frosted around her vision, so she moved to another spot on the glass and pressed her face into it again. “C’mear little monkey!”

The small Albino Pygmy Monkey Twins scurried scared up their only branch and clung to one another.

“Alright Tera leave the baby monkeys alone. Let’s go see the Giant Rift exibit.” Tera’s father pulled gently at her arm.

“NO! I want a monkey! I want a monkey!” Tera squeeled loudly and kicked the glass enclosure.

At that point a zoo attendant noticed her and headed their way….

Todays Words: overwhelmed, tired, John Burnadette

And the men put on a brave face:

John Burnadette was tired, – no that was an understatement – he was exhausted, and overwhelmed – frazzled.

He stood beside his wife his hand was knumb in her grasp.

Two days! Two days! How could she even bear it?

Even now as she dozed her grip was like iron.

Please come son! he prayed. He could smell nothing but himself. And when he dozed it was to the vision of their double wide king with nothing but cool sheets and down filled …

Another contraction came and her nails were in his skin again.

(more to come)

Todays Words: disgruntled, tanning, antartica

 

“Imagine you are in the Antartica!” The female voice droned. “Let the heat come down and soak into your frozen body.”

Shelly could tell she wasn’t the only disgruntled “to-be-bride”.

“Antartica my burned butt!” one girl near her growled. “I feel like a fryed porkskin!!”

Shelly stiffled a laugh. It was true though. This definitely did not feel right. If she even looked appealing after this . . . She did not feel relaxed and she definitely did not feel sexy.

Why had she listened to her future mother in law!!

The Man of the Desert.

 

Psalm 63

A psalm of David. When he was in the Desert of Judah.

 1 O God, you are my God,
       earnestly I seek you;
       my soul thirsts for you,
       my body longs for you,
       in a dry and weary land
       where there is no water.

 2 I have seen you in the sanctuary
       and beheld your power and your glory.

 3 Because your love is better than life,
       my lips will glorify you.

 4 I will praise you as long as I live,
       and in your name I will lift up my hands.

 5 My soul will be satisfied as with the richest of foods;
       with singing lips my mouth will praise you.

 6 On my bed I remember you;
       I think of you through the watches of the night.

 7 Because you are my help,
       I sing in the shadow of your wings.

 8 My soul clings to you;
       your right hand upholds me.

 9 They who seek my life will be destroyed;
       they will go down to the depths of the earth.

 10 They will be given over to the sword
       and become food for jackals.

 11 But the king will rejoice in God;
       all who swear by God’s name will praise him,
       while the mouths of liars will be silenced.

————–

It was four in the morning. The rain beat down incesantly. When he first passed he thought it was a deer that had been downed by a vehicle. Then as his mind wound over the image through the swishing blades he realized he’d seen a foot. A human foot.

He drove on –  half in shock and half of him in denial and disbeleif. Then he slowly pulled onto the side – through the shale and sand, tumble weed and baby cacti and made a u-turn.

 It seemed as if he’d gone several miles past the spot. But then – there it was. The humped form beside the road in the weeds, and now he saw two hands laying on top of eachother and long hair matted into the sandy soil.

The image in the headlights garish light sent a chill through him that made his dinner of ten hours before rise in his throat.

He slowed to a crawl and then came to a stop. The human had not moved. He breathed in slowly and clutched the steering wheel. God have mercy, he whispered. His throat had gone dry.

Then with an inhale he grabbed the latch and swung out of his truck slaming the door.

The ground crunched oddly in the dark stillness – the rain quickly finding its way into his collar – his engine purring and the blades swishing steadily behind him. His shadow grew over the still form. The closer he got the smaller the form appeared till he realized that the body belonged to a teenagers. Give the life to me Lord, and show me the way I should go! The whispered prayer choked his throat and sent moisture welling to his eyes.

The body lay at his feet. He held his breath and nelt.

It was a girl – maybe no older than fifteen. She had a pulse - thank you Lord! -but her face was beaten – her wrists were bruised and cut – and her feet were bare and raw. A threadbare blanket wrapped around her torso and legs had disguised her form in the dark. Oh God – who had done this to her?!

He scooped her into his arms. She was soaked through like a wet towel – but as light as a small child. He choked in anger and at the pain in his chest.

Sobbing he got her into the back seat of his truck. He climbed in and pulled the door shut. Then he pulled the blanket off her and dropped it to the floor – in the dim light reflecting in from the headlights he saw she wore nothing but a long tee-shirt and a skimpy pare of panties that were torn on one side. No bra. He moaned and realized he was crying. He pulled his own blanket from the front seat and began wrapping her.

Then she moved. Her hand – it batted feebly at him – and she writhed and made a moaning sound.

“Shhh! You’re ok now,” he said gently through his tears. But she moaned again and swung her head back and fort and her hand pushed at him uselessly.

(more to come…)

Todays Words: Neat, Yogurt, Headphones

She took another look.

Not only was she neat, she was color coordinated.

And after her mile jog she’d stop at YogYogs and try out the new organic frozen yogurt.

Outside it was chilly – she pulled her hood over her headphones and turned up the music.

 

11/1/09 Black, Brave, Shirt

 

It was the sound of water.

It was raining.

This woke him.

He sat up.

He was late for something but he didn’t know.

He looked down.

He touched his chest. His favorite black shirt was torn. And he was wet.

Then he remembered. The fight at school.

How brave his sister had been – while he’d passed out.

And apparently she’d carried him home.

He smiled at the thought.

How he loved his sister!

10/31/09 Incomplete, dirty, strongman

 

“You’re gonna be incomplete.” Rusty had growled in his ear.

The movement had fallen short. Not short enough Rainey grimaced.

Dirty player, he thought.

That’s why he hated wrestling. Hate was a strong word, he knew that, but his Mom shouldn’t let his “once back in the day Strongman” Step-Father ruin his life like this. He wasn’t a wrestler.

Then to cap it all off, sitting outside the gym, ice packed against his groin, his father hadn’t shown up. He’d had to limp the two miles home.