Silly Girl

once upon a time…

there was a silly girl
who didn’t see
the mistake she made
by trusting he

she gave her heart
she gave her all
and he tripped her up
just to watch her fall

he felt big by
making her small
used sarcasm and anger
kept her back to the wall

he didn’t listen
he didn’t see
that she stopped loving him
wanted only to be free

now he’s sorry
but it came too late
for too long he sowed meanness
and now he reaps her hate

Saving Grace–part 4

Part 1 here     Part 2  here      Part 3 here

“What was it, child?” I asked.

“I don’t know, but–but Caleb saw it too.” Will turned his face toward his brother. “Didn’t you?”

Caleb shrugged. “Dunno.” His eyes looked a little wild and boogery too. “I guess…something…” He looked back at the night, then sidled up close to me. I put my arm around him and he pressed close.

On the other side of the yard fence, the corn patch lay still and black. Nothing moved amongst the corn stalks that I could tell. But there was something there, all right; I could feel it. And Penny did too. Her hair bristled from her head to the tip of her tail, and she was whining and growling, both at the same time.

“Let’s go inside,” Grace said softly. “Now.” She took my elbow, and with Caleb and Will tucked up against me, guided us all up the steps with a steady hand.

When both my feet were on the porch, I took a good look at my jellyfish-gal, and it came as no surprise that she was now pret’near as tall as me. And Isabelle’s tee shirt barely covered enough to keep her decent. I reckoned I’d better hunt up something to cover her bottom part ’cause at the rate she was going, by morning she’d be full growed.

Grace reached around me and pulled open the screen door. “We’ll be all right in the house, Nana,” she said. “It doesn’t like the light.”

***

It took me a spell to get to sleep that night, and it weren’t because every light in the house was blazing. I kept thinking about It what was out in the corn. And Grace. What was she and where had she come from? And what was It that’d come down after her? And why? Continue reading

Saving Grace–part 3

Part 1 here         Part 2 here

Will didn’t argue with me. All and all he was a good boy, Caleb too. They were a handful for Isabelle though, what with her having to work all the time and no husband to help out. Funny how a man can just walk out on his family and never look back. That’s what Jack Fisher had done though: he’d gotten on a plane to California and called Isabelle on his cell phone somewhere over Colorado and said he was leaving her.

Worry lines creased Isabelle’s young face, worry lines she shouldn’t have, and I hated Jack Fisher all over again.

“Let me help you with that, child.” I reached for one of the bags of groceries.

“I’ve got them, Nana.” Isabelle moved past me and into the kitchen. She plopped the bags down on the countertop and started putting things away.

I felt a tug on my apron and looked down at Will’s upturned face. “I’m thirsty,” he said. “Caleb too.”

While Isabelle bustled about the kitchen, I made a pitcher of cherry Kool-Aid, and the boys took their glasses and went out on the back porch. They liked it outside here; there weren’t no outside to speak of at their apartment in the city.

“I’ve got a favor to ask, Nana,” Isabelle said, looking out the window over the sink.

I took two glasses of Kool-Aid to the table and sat down. “Anything you need, all you gotta do is speak up. You know that.”

A breeze sidled through the window screen, ruffling Isabelle’s blonde hair. She closed her eyes and smiled. “It smells so clean out here, the grass, the trees, even the dust from the road.” The smile slipped from her face. “Not like the city where all you smell is gasoline fumes and baking asphalt.”

“You’re welcome to come back home anytime you take a notion. You know that too.”

Pap and me had taken Isabelle in after the car wreck that’d killed Josh and his wife. This old farm was the only home she’d ever known.

“I can’t live way out here, Nana, I have to work.” She opened her eyes and turned to me. “And that’s why I’m here, why I need a favor.”

“Come tell me about it.”

And she did. She told me about the job interview she had set up with a company two states over, a company that’d pay her twice what she was making at the law firm she was working at now. “Marshall is a nice town, Nana,” she said. “And I could have a nice house with plenty of room for the boys and a big yard for them to play in. And a place for you to–”

“Hold on now.” I’d heard this kind of talk before, and I knew that Isabelle meant well, but I wasn’t leaving my home. Me and Penny weren’t going nowhere. “How does this have anything to do with needing a favor from me?” Continue reading

Wednesday’s Child

I was not born to be happy…

No bright star shown down on me
When I was dropped headfirst into the world
Red-faced, kicking, screaming
And placed in my mother’s arms—
The only true home I’ve ever known

Instead, a dark star witnessed my birth
Stepped out of hell’s black hole
Took me in its cold bony hands
And christened me “Wednesday’s Child”
Damning me to a life full of woe

Not for me fair of face or full of grace
A clumsy witch with frizzy red hair
Who mounts her broom
And beneath an alabaster moon
Runs wild with the night

Night understands, night knows
What beats inside my heart
What tangles and twists my soul
It doesn’t question, doesn’t judge
Night is my beloved familiar

There’s a certain comfort in failure
A happiness inside misery
A pleasure in absent feelings
For a Wednesday’s Child
Who has serenely accepted her fate

For…
I was not born to be happy

Photo from Pixabay

Saving Grace–part 2

Part 1 here

And I could see…

I picked up the flashlight and shined it full on the jellyfish.

I could see inside the thing; its skin or hide or whatever was transparent. Red threads ran all through it, spoking out from a dark spot in its center. And the dark spot moved. Stopped. Moved. It was–

“Well, I’ll be…”

The jellyfish had a heart.

I reckoned whatever else it might be, it was a living being. And the poor thing was cold.

I pulled off my apron and wrapped the thing up in it.

Then somehow I got back up on my feet with the jellyfish snugged in the crook of my arm. And holding the flashlight in that hand and steadying myself on the cane gripped in my other, I made it out of the woods, across the rocky ground, back through the corn patch, up the steps and into the kitchen without so much as a misstep. Now, if I’d been a Godly woman I would’ve thanked Him for seeing me safely home; but since God had let that drunk jackass run over Josh and kill him when he was just twenty-seven years old, I didn’t thank Him for nothing no more.

Penny close at my heels, I passed straight through the dark kitchen into the equally dark front room and plopped down in my recliner. After spending the better part of a day in a hot kitchen, then traipsing about in the woods, I was worn smack-dab out.

The house was too warm but I didn’t feel like getting back up and switching on the fan. ‘Course it was most likely best that I didn’t anyway; the blue-eyed jellyfish still felt coolish. Continue reading