  Action/Adventure
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Arguments
I had an odd dream the other night. At least, I thought it was a dream.
“Women are trouble,” I said, and meant it.
She didn’t speak. She didn’t have to. It was the way she was breathing that was making my mind run on like this. The breathing was open-throated in the darkness, consciously quiet though its intensity was almost beyond control.
People were listening. Kids. Neighbors. We had to be quiet.
But the walls were growing thinner and thinner, and all around people clustered, listening. More and more people, my mind told me madly. People with more and more ears, until it felt as if we were trying to be quiet and secretive in the center of a hollow sphere of great attentive ears, a mosaic of lobes and folds and inky orifices, all set together like fish scales….
Then the catch in her breath, the feeling of welcome, of gratitude…the wrong gratitude, the wrong relief, for it was based only on the fact that now it was over—but oh, please be quiet.
The heaviness now, the stillness…quiet. Real quiet, this time, and no pretense. I waited.
Then anger flicked at me. Enough is enough. This weight…this stillness…
Too much weight. Too much stillness…
“Honey?” I spoke.
“Honey!” I struggled to move, but quietly.
Then I knew why she was so quiet, so still. I looked numbly at the simple fact, and for a long moment I breathed no more than she did, and that was not at all, for she was dead.
“Women are trouble,” I said, and then sighed deeply and went back to sleep.
I don’t know why I dreamt this. And I definitley don't know why I wrote it down.
I guess it’s because my wife and I are at odds. Which is just a polite way of saying, we are having an argument.
Yeah, it’s one of those knockdown drag-outs. Of course, it’s my entire fault. And according to who you ask, it’s always my fault. You see, we went on a family vacation together. You know, just me and her and all the kids. I felt it was all very romantic: long walks upon the beach, beautiful sunsets, visiting all those touristy type shops, a little romance in the sack; you know what I’m talking about. It was all good.
And then I opened my mouth.
It was such a little thing, a slip of the tongue really, a statement taken totally out of context. It could have happened to anyone.
All I said was, “How come we always do what you wanna do?”
You could have heard a pin drop. In fact, I think I did hear one drop about two blocks away.
Anyway, I’m in the process of marriage-cleanup-control—trying to make it all better again—eating crow.
I don’t get it. Vacations are supposed to be fun—time away from home—relaxation.
But every adventure has its misgivings, its misfortunes, its mis-steps.
Sometimes I wonder just what it is I’m vacationing from. It’s a mystery to me, you know, the unknown, the unexplained. I suppose I should be grateful I’m headed back into work, where it’s more predictable, safer.
But I've learned something, and I want to share it with you: Don't think less of yourself, think of yourself less, because at the end of the adventure there's only one thing you get to keep, and that's your soul. It's where you store who you loved and who loved you... Try to remember that.
Until next time,
billwilcox
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Adventures Of The Heart
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#1560191 by Not Available. |
Excerpt: Jack drove his fist into my cheek. The raised diamonds in the wedding band he wore cut my face on impact and I felt a stream of blood rush down my face. My right hand shot forward to block the next blow but Jack grabbed my hand and used it to twist my arm backwards. I heard a crunch and then bile sprung from my throat to the floor causing a tiny splash to land on Jack’s polished loafers.
“Look what you’ve done.”
Excerpt: Chrissy opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling of the living room. It was white, as most ceilings were. She noticed a few cobwebs in one corner. The light fixture really needed to be dusted as well. Chrissy smiled harshly to herself. Like such things mattered at this point. Dust had stopped mattering after that very first doctor’s visit, she realized. I guess I knew even then, she thought. I knew the blood test wasn’t going to show a problem with my iron. Or that I was pregnant. People will say I couldn’t have known, but I did, I just did. Chrissy sighed. She thought about the phone call, asking her to come back into the clinic for a review of her results. She remembered Sue ushering her quietly into Dr. Novis’ office, not an exam room. She remembered Sue sitting beside her as Dr. Novis delivered the news, the treatments options, and the survival rates. She wondered why she hadn’t asked Steve to go with her. Chrissy hadn’t even told him she had an appointment.
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Excerpt: I knew you were experiencing some discomfort, I saw you twitch but you couldn’t move, you were too weak. The triangular shard poking through one of your kidneys was one problem. Another was a smaller piece that had lodged in the side of your neck. One of your arteries was severed. Although the wound was trying to close, it couldn’t completely.
Smiling absently, I reached down and gently pulled the glass from your neck. Almost immediately the wound healed. The jagged dermal rip closed, as if the coffee table glass had never sliced through.
You continued to stare at me as I ran my hand along under one buttock to find the base of the shard of glass puncturing your kidney. I wiggled it free and tossed it aside, savoring the thought of your smooth skin, made slippery by your own blood.
Excerpt: Everything became soft, organic. Metal stripped from the panels and frames, transforming it all into reddish, membranous tissue. It throbbed with each beat of the pulsing heart. The inside of Sally burned with a reddish-purple hue, wrapping Hank in its awing brilliance. He widened his eyes, overtaken by the surreal colors.
I've never felt more alive, he thought. All these years, so little excitement, and now...this.
The moaning rose higher, higher. Ripping tears split the steering wheel in half, giving way for a long, sensuous pink tongue to slither its way out. It waved at him, swinging left and right. The red lips of the wheel puckered at him desirably as the tongue rolled over nothing. Her heart beat faster, and now he could tell that it was coming from somewhere under the hood, though it seemed to be all around him.
Excerpt: Quickly, I jumped up and grabbed Mrs. Reed under the arms. I dragged her body out the back, through the sliding glass door. A well-used path twisted up through the yard and off into the dense woods behind the house. She was heavy, but some supernatural strength seemed to pulse through my body, and I moved her up the trail.
I saw a shovel leaning against a shed in the backyard, and I hurried back to get it. All I could think about was how broken up Cheryl was going to be, and how I would show up to comfort her. We’d be back together in no time--no time at all. Why hadn’t I thought of this earlier. It was perfect.
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Love Letters
sarahreed
Submitted Comment:
Wow, symmetrina is a tough form. I thought only poetry had difficult forms and styles. I'll be giving some thought to it, and if I write something, I'll let you know. Thanks for writing about such a fascinating form!
Jayce 
Submitted Comment:
That is awesome! I've never heard of a symmetrina before. Maybe I can make use of it one day. Lol.
suppii
Submitted Comment:
Wow. That's a wicked idea: symmetrina.
Hmm, I felt tempted to do this :) Thanks for sharing, great stuff!
Smee 
Submitted Comment:
A thoroughly excellent read - it pushed an otherwise good newsletter into the exceptional range.
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Action/Adventure: July 01, 2009 Issue [#3135]
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