Love is a Haunting

May 17, 2018May 20, 2018 ~ Piece, of the Sky

Seaweed twisted and floated overhead. Dappled sunlight cut through the waves and rippled down from above.

Alli was walking, on the shallow ocean floor, in a white suit. Gray, wooden buildings lined the street, on either side, underwater. The doorways yawned, black, empty entrances, that doubled as windows to oblivion.

The water was clear. Nealy also walked, far ahead, in a beige suit, instead – her beige suit. Her orange hair floated behind her, longer than Alli remembered, dangling in a loose braid, stray wisps sticking out in every direction. The halo on a sun. The corona, the crown.

Alli walked behind her, dragging an ax on the ground, holding the yellow handle in her left hand. The blade cut up clods and carved out furrows of brown sand, which curled into clouds, following in Alli’s wake.

Nealy turned and met her gaze. The green eyes that locked with Alli’s, over the thin shoulder were unmistakable. Alli knew it was Nealy, but it could have been anyone. She barely recognized her anymore. The memory was shredded to ribbons.

Alli woke up in tears, staring up into the cold, still night.

I did everything for you, her lone thought hung in the darkness, rattling in the air, like a question.

Second image courtesy of Kristina Stipetic

Music

Beyoncé – “Haunted”

A Quick Respite with Honesty

May 1, 2018May 20, 2018 ~ Piece, of the Sky

Alli was driving down a country road. The windshield wipers squeaked as they flowed back and forth, haltingly across the glass. The road was wet; the sky was silver. Dark green trees, heavy with the foliage of summer, framed her view.

She got out and walked into a field with tall, flaxen grass. Drizzle splattered down, from the drifting clouds. Located in the center of the field, stood a dilapidated, shattered, gray farmhouse, sinking on its rotten foundation. Alli bounded up the crumbling steps, full of gaping holes in the planks.

The screen door hung to the side, swinging open, on its hinges. Alli crossed the faded porch and stole inside.

The rooms were gloomy. The unsaturated light of the day filtered in, through boarded-up windows. In the study on the first floor, Nealy sat behind the heavy, pockmarked mahogany desk, in her solarized jean jacket, staring down at the spoon in front of her, silently moving the dumb piece of metal around with her mind.

A second teenager sat beside her, also in a jean jacket, this one with a few patches and yawning, threadbare tears. This was Aro; she was spinning two plastic jacks around, above her hands.

They both looked up when Alli came in. “Oh, look who decided to show up?” Nealy asked, meeting her gaze.

“I brought the car,” Alli said, with a smirk.

The high schoolers piled into Alli’s car. They took off toward the highway, Alli revving the engine with a laugh.