Creative Writing, Poetry

Poetry: Oliver and No Company

The people dodge soda stains on the sidewalk,
their attention directed to the ground so they don’t see
the sign that says ‘free kittens’ in shaky black marker,
a plea for them to take us out of the worn box
and show us what a real home looks like,
where we wouldn’t have to worry about food
as we spent our days playing with yarn
instead of green glass bottles and sacred hair balls
we fight over, our only source of fun.

My brothers and sisters plead for the people’s attention
by pouncing on the rim of the box, pushing and shoving,
doing whatever it takes to get chosen for protection
but we are easy to ignore on a street full of distractions.
Smoke from a man’s mouth drifts our way,
smelling worse than our only neighbor, the sewer,
while the clanking of metal trashcans
is mistaken for music by the people
who stop for that, but not for us.

Cries surround me, drowned out to the people by sirens
from trucks that zoom past as we stand still
begging, pleading, asking sweetly for love
from those who never intended to give it
and for a moment I think that I should join my family
in their task of getting out of misery but I can’t,
my quiet tongue holds me back again.

I always was the silent one.

One person approaches, called over by the noise,
he pets us with his dirty, cloth hands
and wishes us luck with our quest,
which is enough to tell the people that pass us
that we are friendly enough for hellos
and too cute for goodbyes
as strangers took my siblings away, one by one,
until they have all been taken away from me.

I always was the ugly one.

A little boy picks me up, pulling on my tail
but that doesn’t matter to me as he asks his mother
if they can take me home and feed me, play with me,
and name me Oliver like their last cat.
I flick my ears forward and tell my eyes to grow,
anything to be cute enough to be taken home,
but his mother tells him to put me back.

I always was the rejected one.

Rain begins to fall, gluing my fur together in clumps,
while the people hide under umbrellas and in buildings
I have no hope of getting to; ever-exposed in the box.
I open my mouth to greet the water with my dryness
and snaps of my baby teeth, just sharp enough to scare
the people away from me as I pray silently for them
to come back, like they did for my siblings
in the sunshine of the day while I was left behind
to fend for myself in the cruel of the night.

An unheard cry escapes my lips as the box
becomes a pool I’m afraid of. I bat my paws frantically
trying to keep the water under me, off of me,
as I squeak and cry out for someone, anyone,
to save me from the box, from the streets of death,
but I am left to paddle for my own safety
until the box dampens and breaks,
the pool of water chucking me into the city
full of people with big feet for trampling
and small hearts full of hatred for forgotten
kittens like me, the lonely one.

 

Creative Writing, Poetry

Poetry: I am here

I warn you now that when you are lost,

I will find you. When there are too many

thick trees to see the sun

and too many turns to find the right one,

I will help you. When you cannot carry

the weight of the world,

I will take a plate and walk beside you.

When you bleed, I will mend you.

When you scream, I will calm you.

When you cry, I will hold you.

Most importantly though,

when you break down,

I will still love you.

Creative Writing, Fiction, short story

Fiction: Wardrobe

“What’s your story?” LBD grunted as soon as the door was closed. Having been worn more than the rest of us, and being a full outfit on her own, LBD appointed herself our leader. No one fought her on this. She was worldly, always coming back in the closet with tales of parties where she rubbed against shiny ties and pants so pressed you couldn’t guess their age. Sometimes she didn’t even get washed before she was returned to us and we could smell the drinks and smoke that made her cooler than any of us put through the spin cycle.

“What do you mean?” The green sequins on her body shook as she responded.

“Do you have a name? Where are you from? When are you leaving?” LBD was always harsher towards dresses than us shirts.

I wanted to tell LBD to cut her some slack, but I knew better than to mess with her. Even if I was only a T-shirt, LBD was a force not to be questioned. I knew if I stood up for this stranger, LBD would exact some revenge. She’d probably skip over the obvious paint spots I got from when Owner redid the kitchen and jump right to my initial design. On my front side, I said, “S—haw– Swim team 2003” (some of my lettering had gone away over the years while LBD who was here even before I arrived still maintained the appearance of being straight from the store).

The green sequins shook again as the new dress went to reply, “They call me Mermaid…I’m from the mall…” We all shuddered at the word. Most of us were from some mall or another, a holding pen for us as we begged like shelter animals to be taken home. “And I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to go back there.”

LBD scoffed. She didn’t want to compete with new dresses for Owner’s attention. She prided herself on being out the most, of seeing the most, of doing the most, and making us all feel inferior. It worked. I used to see pools and scantily clad bodies but now I was lucky to have even made it to the kitchen. Defilement by paint or not, I was lucky to leave the closet.

“What do you think of the newcomer?” Blue asked me. She and I had become friends a few months into her arrival here once the dresses shunned her. From her exterior alone, you would never have guessed that Blue wasn’t a sundress and, since no one thought to ask her if she was what she appeared, she was accepted as one of them. LBD didn’t feel as defensive when it came to her since Blue was clearly a casual wear and LBD was for “special occasions,” as she liked to say.

It was only when Blue got caught on another dress that her secret was revealed: she wasn’t a dress at all. She was a jumper and dresses couldn’t be friends with the jumpers. Most of the shirts had shunned her as well for deceiving us all, but I was rather forgiving on the matter. Blue couldn’t help the way she looked anymore than I could.

“She seems a little skittish,” I replied as Mermaid shook her body in a manner that made it look like she was drowning. I wished that someone would tell her that it was going to be all right, that she just needed to ignore LBD. One of these days Mermaid would get to see a piece of the world the way we all did and she would no longer care about her first moments pulling on the white plastic hanger, holding on for dear life, while LBD interrogated her.

Mermaid made it through the year, getting taken out three times in the summer and early fall to events that LBD pretended not to care about but we all knew that she did. Even though she got out more than any of us, LBD wanted nothing more than to be taken out every day –practical or not. Blue got worn once that year –on a boat she had said with a smile so large it looked like a matching long necklace hung on her. I, on the other hand, hadn’t left the closet at all. There was one close call when Owner almost pulled me down, but she settled on a different shirt instead when she notice the splotches of paint she had put on me. As evil as she was, even LBD knew better than to say anything about this occurrence. We all feared the day when Owner wouldn’t want us anymore.

Then came the day we always knew would come as it did every year: spring-cleaning. We could always tell that day was on the horizon when Owner wore less sweaters and shorter dresses. Today was that day. As owner walked into the closet, I stared at the black body bag in her hand. Her nails were painted the same shade of green she had painted the kitchen walls –the same shade of green that I wore in spots across my skin. In a weird way, that gave me some hope. Owner still likes the color and I have some of that color. Maybe she still liked me. We had been through so much together. Surely she remembered that?

Owner started at the back of the walk-in closet with the dresses and worked her way forward. I could tell that Mermaid was holding her breath the same way all the new articles of clothing from the past year were. I wanted to tell them it was stupid to worry so much. They had the least to worry about out of all of us. Owner wasn’t going to get rid of something she hadn’t even had for a year yet. My seven-year stance in the closet was living proof of that and LBD’s nine-year stay was even more comforting.

The bag remained bodiless as Owner walked passed Mermaid, LBD, and the dress owner had worn to homecoming as a high school freshman and hadn’t worn since. If she could keep things like that around, she would certainly keep me. Then again, Sparkles was in perfect condition and I was flawed beyond repair. As Owner inched closer, tossing in a few white blouses that knew what their fate was given that they couldn’t even button around Owner anymore. I still fit though. At least I think I did. It had been a while, but there was still room for growth the last time I was worn. That comforted me for a little bit, but I still found myself holding my breath like I was a newbie when owner stood in front of me.

Owner paged through the hangers, throwing them down the post they clung to so that one shirt ran into the next and barer bar was exposed. I was flicked down the row in the same quick, careless manner that slammed me into another T-shirt. A wave of relief came over me as I realized today wasn’t my day. I was going to be here for at least another year and not placed in the body bag with the ill-fitted blouses. Owner still wanted me.

Owner continued flipping through the T-shirts, getting to the end of the collection without adding any new additions to the body bag. I mentally applauded my groups success for Owner’s clear desire to keep us, but I let my guard down too soon. Owner flipped backwards through the shirts she had just gone through, bringing us all up to the block again. Before I knew it, Owner’s green fingertips were on me, blending in with the spots that I had gotten from the kitchen paint like we were two pieces of the same whole. Maybe Owner saw it too –how we fit together so perfectly even though she had forgotten me over the years. I could forgive her for all of that.

That was my last thought before she yanked me down from the hanger and stuffed me in the body bag in a motion so swift and unexpected that I didn’t even have a chance to cry out. I watched the patch of light fade from my sights as Owner tied off the body bag. I imagined Blue crying out for me, begging for Owner to bring back her friend. I could practically see Mermaid shaking her fish scales like she had just been pulled out of the pond and thrust onto the cutting board herself. I knew LBD would carry on like nothing had happened. She would probably say something sassy like how I brought this upon myself with the message the back of my shirt said: “No shoes, no shirt, no problem!” Now there was no shirt as I was dragged away from the only friends I had ever known into the world I still wouldn’t be able to see.

What I am up to

What I am up to

I am still on cloud nine about this news, and I cannot believe it has taken me this long to post it on here: I WILL BE ATTENDING GEORGE MASON UNIVERSITY IN THE FALL AS PART OF THEIR MFA IN CREATIVE WRITING (FICTION)! It has been a long road to get here, and I feel so blessed to be able to say that I have taken the next step towards my dreams.

In other news, I accidentally showered my laptop with flavored water this past week. On the one hand, it smelled like yummy strawberry lemonade but, on the other hand, it didn’t work after that. It took three days to figure out a solution that involved me showing up for tech support only to have my laptop turn back on all by itself just after the guy told me my laptop was probably a goner. Yes, I am the tiger mom of laptops over here. Hey, whatever it takes to motivate my laptop to work again!

So now I am back to working on novel #3 which falls into the category of women’s fiction (along with novel #2 which is still progressing towards its final version). Currently I am about three fourths of the way through it and hope to have a completed first draft in just a few weeks!

 

Creative Writing, Poetry

Poetry: Best of Luck

You were always looking to replace me

and I wish that you knew what that felt

like, to be constantly not good enough

to compete with yet another pretty face,

a secretary with benefits I didn’t see

coming. I guess there was always meant

to be a punishment for loving so blindly

and for being invested in something

you had already decided to return,

but I move on and move forward

every day because I know you have

it coming for you. You did it to yourself

and I owe myself an apology for letting

it go on for this long, for not seeing

the signs that you were a boy

when I already knew I needed

a gentleman. It is too late to dwell

on all of that now. It is the time

for me to wish upon a shooting star

that all of this will blow up in your face,

that she decides you are no longer

a pretty face and that she leaves

you with no reason like the way

you so easily left me. I would never

wish bad things, but I don’t feel

the need to be nice to you anymore,

and one day she won’t either.

Creative Writing, Poetry

Poetry: Bloody Bullet

I tiptoe but you hear

me coming your way, it’s too late

for games, you say, it’s too late

to play. So I retreat

to my seat in the corner

where I am to be shamed

by your red words once more.

A bloody bullet you used before,

a bloody bullet off the un-swept floor

pointed directly at me,

so sullied, so dirty. I can’t help

it anymore than I can help myself

at this point. Stranded. Screaming,

pleading, bleeding, begging for you

not to pull that trigger again.

This is the end, you say,

it’s too late for games,

it’s too late to play.

It is time to pull the trigger,

to attack me with all you’ve got,

an old wound ripped open

that keeps me in my seat,

where I retreat when I try

to move us forward together

and you leave me to bleed out alone.