part 1

There’s a girl and a gust of wind and the house she left behind. A pale yellow house with mold in the corners and babies with fevers, and cigarette smoke in her nose and on the walls of her room, in her hair and in her bed sheets, and on the outside in the humid world beyond the broken door she crept out of at 2am.

They looked for her in the pastures and in the nooks, in the neck of the woods that smell green and lush and watery, and they looked up as if she might be in a tree staring down at them, but they never did find her.

 

to be continued …

33 thoughts on “part 1

  1. this is so you, by which I mean that it´s awesome… looking forward to a continuation :3

    1. it’s difficult to find the time to write lately, and when I do I often think I’m everything that brilliant isn’t. it means a lot to hear these compliments from you because you’re one of the few writers on here that I feel has what James Joyce referred to as ‘the radiance’. I’ve mentioned it before. It’s simply a shining quality to the writing that transcends in a way that others who have will detect the light in it. I hope this made sense.

      1. Well I can relate as I have that same impatience and expectation over my writing, if I published only those I liked well my blog would be bald indeed. Ironically I learned what I liked best was often not what others liked best, a hard lesson as I was clueless to understanding it. But I suppose if the taint of depression and the hardness of criticism can color our perspective it is possible more of what you/we write is worthy than we believe? Either way, you will know, and you will find your rhythm always as you have before. I’m here reading you always, because you deserve reading, it is that simple and you earn it with your talent, even as you may doubt it is still with you, it is vaulting over us, trying to find starlight.

      2. Same thing for me. The ones I haven’t liked are the ones most accepted by others, and my favorites although liked by a select few are largely ignored. I just finished a novel recently, which I mentioned before, and I don’t like it much. I think of it as my way of showing myself I could do it, and now has paved the way for others I may like more personally. Lol. Maybe that means others will. For me, if I’m not creating I feel empty. It adds to the other emptiness until I’m a chasm. I was born to write, I suppose.

    1. My time will free up soon. I’m glad people are reading (the right people who enjoy). I have this all planned and some parts written already. They just need a nice comb to get out the tangles.

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