Remnants of Anne
“That bitch owes me money,” he said gruffly as he took another swig from the bottle. A drop of the thin, yellow liquid slid down his chin before being wiped away with the back of a withered hand.
She hated it when he got like this. Belligerent, obnoxious old fool. These were the moods that got him locked up all those times. These were the moods that got mother smacked in the mouth and made her leave. These were the moods she dreaded. In his youth, these moods were lusty declarations of manhood, charging in warlike and ready to conquer. But he was old now. Old and spent…
Invisble, Part 1
“I’m leaving,” she called to the empty house. Her words bounced off the cluttered furnishings like a high-bounce ball carelessly tossed by an invisible hand. “Invisible,” she thought. “I am invisible.”
It was a blustery morning as she started the many blocks to school. Not cold enough for snow, but cold enough to feel barbed ice crystals riding the wind to cut through her gloves and scarf as a knife cuts skin. Somewhere in the distance a wind chime played on the breeze until it came to some sort of violent end and clattered to a stop. Her pack felt heavy on her shoulders. She was alone. As she lumbered along, she told herself it was better this way. Alone is safe.
Emotional Landscape of Make-believe Girls…
There once was a photograph … not a happy family picture, or a sunny landscape. It was not of a fuzzy puppy or a bright shiny car. This picture was of a girl… not your normal everyday picture of a girl, but a slightly slutty pin-up style photo. The subject wasn’t young nor was she old. Her eyes were beautiful, but sad. Her look desirable, but far from perfect. Her hair, attractive. Her clothing, what there was of it, fitting. She was an attractive girl … not commercially attractive – too many imperfections… But still, attractive.
