posting my findings in the appropriate medium.
When I’m bored and broke, I like to pretend I’m on a ratchet version of top chef. What can this girl do a packet of ramen, some left over pork shoulder and an onion? We’re about to find out.
In the Evening
In the Evening
In the evenings
I find myself staring into the ceiling
Searching for the stars
In the green paint
Swiping with graceless fingers
Yearning with my meager heart
Trying to catch shooting answers
They feel so at hand!
But they are far away?
If I could grasp just one!
I would know them all
My heart would not feel so meager, then.
-Catherine F. Ford
Something old and short
Jonah relished the cool air, it was the rarest type of weather in the south. He had enjoyed his years abroad for that reason. His English peers hated their countries weather the way he had always hated the southern humidity. He stood there, leaned on the hood of his sedan smoking a cigarette, thumbing his earlobe the way he did when he was in deep thought.
Divorce an ungainly word that had no grace or appeal on the palate, but it was a word that laid itself daintily on his mind. It had to be done. There was no other way, not in his mind at least. His pragmatic nature dictated that he must do it. He’d married for love, was no longer in love and no longer found his still-beautiful wife, beautiful. The venom that exuded from her personality had finally overcome her good looks. There was simply nothing else to be done, only one choice because there was only one option. Should a man stay wed to a monster if she is a beautiful one? Eleven years he was forced to watch her never ending battle with her own wickedness. His father had told him, “do not marry a harsh woman Jonah, they never soften”. He lets out a sigh, releasing his smoky breath. Victoria’s eyes had only grown harder as time went on. She never had a touch, not even for their own daughter. Jonah dropped his cigarette on the ground.
Maybe he would wait. It was new years eve after all and they were entering a new decade. 1930. What a way to ring in the new year. With divorce papers, what tact, he thought to himself rubbing out the cigarette thoughtlessly with his shoe. Jonah walked with concentration, every step fighting the last. He pulled his key out of his left suit pocket. A week away from home and his mind had made it’s way to his daughter. He walked back to his car and picked up her gift, a small stuffed strained-smiling gorilla gleefully holding a banana.
Reassured and with purpose he quickly walked back to the door and opened it to find a dark house. The radio was on and the heavy curtains were drawn shut. He placed the gorilla down on the foyer table. Perhaps she’d gone out. He turned on the lights and removed his jacket. Scotch, a gentlemanly drink was the only thing on his mind now. He poured himself a tall glass and collapsed in his study; relieved that he would celebrate the new year alone. He closed his eyes and felt the drink burn his chest. His wife was so unusual he thought to himself. She hadn’t called him in days. She hadn’t even proposed to meet him at the station. The list of things she had not done, grew longer the more he thought. A man traveling to a foreign land, thousands of miles away and not a single phone call or letter. He arrived home and there was no tender kiss or warm welcome just a barren home. Jonah raised a weary eye to the clock, it was 11pm. If he had to enter the new year alone he would do it in bed
Dragging his body up the cascading stairs he felt the cracking of the beautifully polished Mahogany. He walked into his daughter’s bedroom and turned on the light. The walls had been painted a royal blue because Victoria had wanted a boy. Victoria never let fact interfere with her reality. Most of the rooms of the house were of the mansion were empty. Awaiting a larger and happier household.
He undressed, letting every article of clothing fall around him. Jonah walked to his wife’s full length mirror and stared intently at his feline eyes with the yellow flecks, like god’s dust. In eleven years, what had he turned into? Jonah stood there for a long time. Naked and cold. Cloaked only in his chagrin fear. Finally, the mirror released him from its hold and walked to the bathroom quite unprepared for what awaited him. His daughter lay clinging to Victoria on the black marble floor. Coddled in her blood, softly sleeping and sucking her tiny thumb. Victoria, dead, swaddled in her white robes appeared to be an angel Jonah knew she wasn’t. An angel sleeping beside her cherub.
Source: Flickr / tucapel
Leave my bones where they lay
Let them bleach in the sun
I will weather here
Soon I will be dust
I will be left, nothing
Was I already nothing
Am I leaving nothing to become apart of everything
- Catherine T. Ford