March 2, 2012

  • fire

    bluemooncat enormous thing.  (really) short story using the words: virgin, stone, trombone, attendance, pretzels, rusting, camp fire.

     

    Tired.  Tired of goldfish and pretzels.  Tired of playgroups and PTO meetings.  Tired of constant attendance on every word in a small voice.  Tired of the brain rusting like an old car in a junkyard. 

    Emma took the latest Sandra Brown crime novel and a glass of red into the back yard.  She put these items in the Adirondack chair.  Stacking twigs and entwining newspapers, she set a camp fire.  The fire blazed hot and high, protected by the stone circle.  As she stared into the fire, Emma knew. 

    She went back into the house for a few items: the multitude of child-rearing how-to books crowding her bookshelf and a notebook.  Her child-centered existence she ripped page by page and tossed into the purging fire.  Page by page, she reclaimed her life.  The ashes sunk to the ground. 

    The sparks filled her eyes- purpose and dream and desire and creativity.  She opened the virgin notebook and began writing.

    The neighbor girl practiced her trombone.

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