writer / performer / creative ingenue

Herbert stared down at the black and white keys, trying to play connect the dots with these rectangular wooden blocks and the melodies he heard in his head.  He sat hunched over, his gaunt figure looming over the keys, bug-eyed with intent, staring, waiting, sitting, waiting for the dots to connect.

Ring, the telephone sang. (more…)

Claire, perched wide-eyed at her mother’s feet, gazed up at her from the cherry plush carpet.  She bobbed her head from side to side, poised like a lollipop on a stick as she inquired, “What did you dream of as a little girl like me, mama?”

            Her mother lay there fixed, arms draped awkwardly over the velvet chair, glazed eyes staring straight ahead.  “What did I dream of?” she repeated listlessly. 

            “Yes!” Claire exclaimed, curls bouncing, bouncing, “Yes, mama!”

            “My dreams…” she muttered frozen, words dissipating, fading.  Her eyes remained gray slits. (more…)

A café.  Noon.

            Elise fumbled her fingers into knots.  Tangling, turning her delicate wrists into mangled, matted knots.  Looking down, her gray eyes shone like bits of metal cracking, cracking, and falling in shards onto her lap.  Ripping her hands apart, she leaped up from her chair to catch a glimpse of the French doors; then, slowly, ever so gracefully, crumpled down into the plush folds of her seat.  She returned her gaze to her mangling, twisting fingers below. 

            Lewis walked past the beaming hostess with a grave jaw and tired eyes.  He stopped to where he could see Elise across the café, twittering, trembling like a skittish mouse.  At length, with great effort, he took in a breath of air, and walked swiftly across to her table. He sat down. (more…)