lilneenzmakeswords

Posts tagged old

   The grass made a soft bed upon the warm earth where I lay watching leaves wispily fall to my sides.  Autumn was sweeping through Lupa subtly this year. The leaves had begun to slip into their tuxedos of red and orange and sneak fluidly from the trees’ thinning branches. I watched their delicate cracking skins scratch against one another as they gathered in little piles beneath the forest’s family of trees. I admired their grace, tiny dancers pirouetting until they reached the earth. But more so, I admired their courage. Once, these newly dressed leaves were only working parts of one large entity, but now so effortlessly they’ve reinvented themselves. They’ve fearlessly constructed a new path and purpose, unescorted by the branches that bore them.
    I spend much of my time here, accompanied by these trees, the earth and sky. Life has grown so much quieter since my father left early last year. He set off in such a hurry and with so little explanation, it’s hard to say when and if he will ever return to us. I remember so vividly the last moments we shared near the edge of one of the forests that surrounded the vast emerald plains of our district. I remember the way his hands shook and the eerie paleness that hung over his caramel colored skin. My father’s dark hair flared slightly over his ears and swayed backwards to reveal the long wrinkles that stretched across his forehead. They creased as the urgent words rolled off of his guarded tongue.
    “You must never forget the words we spoke in this same forest on the afternoon of your twelfth year. You must remember Feather, who you are but never be bound by it. I will be back as soon as the sun allows. I will return Feather. This, I promise.”

This is a draft from a novel I was really interested in writing sometime early last year. I still think about the characters a ton. They’ve stuck with me so I think it really is my duty to write their story.

I stretch my nimble fingers stiff and numb. Dark brown and black lines stuffed deep under coral colored screens. Sharp, with hefty intent, to dig and scratch against what feels like thick gravel pavement. Silky fabric covered buttons sewn into the concrete walls of worn yellow plush. Dirty nurseries, barbed wire prisons. The bright red bricks and wooded entrance never let go of the secret. Inviting like the fear of a children’s Halloween. Their literally shaking inside. The things you’d find in here. Contorted creatures, all knotted up animations, curved and disfigured, turned inside out, backwards and naked. To know nothing but a life without hesitation, without explanation, without modesty, or rosy cheeked embarrassment. These cats were killed before they bagged them, expired eyes, lifeless lips.