2
Betty’s heart beat slow, breath stalling, rain pelted the windows signaling a life at stake she’d never known before. Four months ago this wouldn’t have happened and for months since she’s moved onto shredding up white cloth in her free time—never hiding her mutilated addiction and affection for another woman.
The girls fought a lot, unhappy with this infected situation in which Alice had placed them. Lonely and looking not out for each other they closed the door and left Betty behind.
Mother Egan had no problem accepting them into her home with open arms—an outpouring of warmth and love they had never known.
As behind Betty was left listening to blood boiling over the edge of her new neighbor’s tub. A murder/ suicide? While the culprit rides off in the middle of the night; stalking, engine revving lust for busty blonde overwhelming. Senses deaden as he licks his dripping lips thick with the stench of worn iron. She has not learned what love is, but it is coming for her.
Showing posts with label Texas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Texas. Show all posts
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Thursday, October 29, 2009
6
Houses are being built up high, blocking Dorothy’s view of the Emerald City. Will she ever get there, find home?
The sun seemed to have trouble rising this morning, but she did not. Eight o’clock and the boy was still up, whiskied-out. She could not help and even if she could he would still walk away. For now she’ll have to do with raw smiles on the faces of balloon men at lunchtime.
~~
Attraction, that’s what Dorothy needed. To attract something or someone; to shake her insecurities, emotional wreckage built over time and rainbows… but then again wasn’t that why she ventured out in the first place?
She thought of bumpy hills, rockied mountains, roads that snaked along never ending; never finding happiness. In her mind her journey was one of self-undiscovery. And so, as she thought, she got. Unhappiness overwhelmed. No thank you again and again. She had a choice.
Calling the wicked witch unto her, she let evil torment, infest her thoughts, flourish in its new found home—her closing mind. Where was Christopher’s mythical mushroom god when she needed him? Please. But to no avail.
What she saw on summer nights, sticky flesh sapping mosquitoes in their wake of nourishing bliss-hiving stems slender and bone, what she saw in her mind became in her hand. Palms outstretched, extending from arms bowing under pressure, lashing out in pain—was struggle, suffering she could not whelm-in. The flesh of the Earth she had planted the seed and with one small thought it began to grow wild, relentless; life in a deadening state.
Paralleled with magnetism only to Dorothy’s mind, the wicked witch had manifested herself to life, overwhelming goodness and love.
**To read more of this story, or check out more of my works please check out meganwhitney.org
The sun seemed to have trouble rising this morning, but she did not. Eight o’clock and the boy was still up, whiskied-out. She could not help and even if she could he would still walk away. For now she’ll have to do with raw smiles on the faces of balloon men at lunchtime.
~~
Attraction, that’s what Dorothy needed. To attract something or someone; to shake her insecurities, emotional wreckage built over time and rainbows… but then again wasn’t that why she ventured out in the first place?
She thought of bumpy hills, rockied mountains, roads that snaked along never ending; never finding happiness. In her mind her journey was one of self-undiscovery. And so, as she thought, she got. Unhappiness overwhelmed. No thank you again and again. She had a choice.
Calling the wicked witch unto her, she let evil torment, infest her thoughts, flourish in its new found home—her closing mind. Where was Christopher’s mythical mushroom god when she needed him? Please. But to no avail.
What she saw on summer nights, sticky flesh sapping mosquitoes in their wake of nourishing bliss-hiving stems slender and bone, what she saw in her mind became in her hand. Palms outstretched, extending from arms bowing under pressure, lashing out in pain—was struggle, suffering she could not whelm-in. The flesh of the Earth she had planted the seed and with one small thought it began to grow wild, relentless; life in a deadening state.
Paralleled with magnetism only to Dorothy’s mind, the wicked witch had manifested herself to life, overwhelming goodness and love.
**To read more of this story, or check out more of my works please check out meganwhitney.org
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
The Trip-- Austin
Austin
1
The girls went out that night, having nowhere else to go. They never had anywhere to go. Stuck in place, begging to get out of their mobile home; Betty was left behind. 6th St walkers blow in breezy night air off the river. Searching, scanning bars for that one man who could take them home, take them in for just this night, and wash them in acid. They found him rolling on cots from side to side; his scent a coppered drum beating in the room while Indigenous peoples of Mexico circled road, crying out in pain. The agony a turn on for the night, he solicited the use.
Afterwards the trail built up sticky, filth lined the walls, jettisoned out Scarbrough’s Truths: Betty was left behind.
1
The girls went out that night, having nowhere else to go. They never had anywhere to go. Stuck in place, begging to get out of their mobile home; Betty was left behind. 6th St walkers blow in breezy night air off the river. Searching, scanning bars for that one man who could take them home, take them in for just this night, and wash them in acid. They found him rolling on cots from side to side; his scent a coppered drum beating in the room while Indigenous peoples of Mexico circled road, crying out in pain. The agony a turn on for the night, he solicited the use.
Afterwards the trail built up sticky, filth lined the walls, jettisoned out Scarbrough’s Truths: Betty was left behind.
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