Where is home?

Standard

The plane lands with a thud, brakes screaming as we hit the runway. Cabin lights dim and then brighten. Rain lashes the windows and grey clouds hang low over the airport.

I tumble down the slippery steel steps, at the rear of the plane on to the wet and greasy tarmac. The wind grabs at my flimsy coat and cut me to the bone, my port slips in my hand. My fingers are turning blue with the cold. An argument starts in my head.

‘What the hell am I  doing here? What the fuck do I hope to achieve? And fuck it to hell why wasn’t I wearing warmer clothes? After all, I was coming home to Melbourne’.

Head down, bending into the wind while my coat slaps my legs, I head to the artificial, steamy warmth of the terminal building and the baggage carousel.

Sixty minutes later I adjust the soiled seatbelt of the shiny hire car, I head out of the airport. I have a four-hour drive in front of me. The argument in my head continues.

‘You’re a fruitcake, its as black as …well you know, the roads have changed. You haven’t been here for fifteen years. You idiot. Do you really think you can do this drive at night, in the dark! What if you drive off the road and into the sea?’

Self-doubt starts to nibble and my confidence level plummets past zero. I am paralyzed by fear, inertia gnaws at my gut.  The car beeps once, a second and third time each beep more insistent than the one before it.

‘Fancy fucking car, what the hell is wrong?’

In the dark I see the lights coming toward me. Oh, Christ! I am on the wrong side of the road. I swing the wheel back urging the car to follow without spinning out. The car rocks as the lights whiz past, horn blaring.

‘Concentrate you fool. Look what happens when you don’t concentrate’.

I scream into the darkness of the cabin, ‘for god’s sake SHUT UP you nearly got me killed’.

Silence fills the car. I turn up the radio full blast, the quiet is unnerving. The rest of the trip is uneventful. I stop at a layaway for fuel and a hot meal. I’m in such a hurry to get home I burn the roof of my mouth on the bloody burger. I gulp it down and choke on the crumbs. I suck the gooey bbq sauce off my fingers and chase it down with a Pepsi.

Back in the car, the key in the ignition, I turn it and the car roars to life. I head off down the highway. Not far to go now.

Dawn is breaking, a rosy pink sky flushed with gold I wind down the window I can smell the salt tang of the sea. I have arrived.

The door to the house is wide open. “Mum I’m home”

No answer. Just me and the house.

Welcome home.

Advertisements

Blood Connection – Microfiction

Standard

Blank eyes. Eyes that do not see. Devoid of emotion but not of life. The hand trembles. Breathing is shallow and frantic; grasping, sucking, greedily for air. Lungs full of congestion, suffocating, squeezing the life essence beyond redemption. I cannot meet her gaze and avert my head. Hot scalding tears scar my soul.
I hold her hand, I wipe the blood-specked spittle from her cracked lips. I moisten them with gel. Her eyelids close. This time they do not flutter. Her breathing ceases. I hold my breath and start to count. Her grip relaxes. She sighs, more bloodied foam appears. She sighs again, her frail body shudders as if she will break apart. No more breaths, no more movement, her essence gone. The woman whose blood runs in me is no more.
My mother has died. I weep tears that taste of brine, and the coppery taste of blood. I ring the bell. She has escaped, the crash cart is useless.
I will miss you, Mum.

FLEXING MY WRITING MUSCLES

Standard
FLEXING MY WRITING MUSCLES

ENJAMBMENT – LIFE

 

We are obligated to celebrate life.

We have dreamed our time away; foolish, wasted

Precious time and love; perhaps now

We see the folly of our ways; and time

Lost never to come again, a singular thought

A lesson learned; a hard

And stringent message from the Gods; who

Deplore wasted time; they mourn the many lives

Whose true essence is wasted and ebbs away.

LIFE

 

 

Alliteration  – THE GLASSHOUSE

 

Magic mountains sit silent with floating wisps about their brow,

Snuggly silently sliding they fit one close to the other.

The mists abound folding molding sinuous shapes,

Rifts and rills of steam stream like evaporative trails

Cascading down a never fading curtain, a grey green screen

Dripping, glistening in dawn’s soft light.

Stoney surfaces sparkling in the shimmering light, then

Birds stretch, squawk and flutter, fluffing feathers and cleaning nests

Until daylight frees them to fly, floating high above the wispy mist.

BeerwahCloud3

 

 

 

HEARTBEAT

Standard
HEARTBEAT

A HEARTBEAT

 

Heartbeats steady, softy hiccupping along

The machine clicks and clacks its way

His heart’s melody a wondrous song.

 

Pencil lines trace a life to prolong

With a fervent hope, the beat will not sway

Heartbeats steady, softy hiccupping along.

 

Auscultation sounds are too strong

Stop, wait, start again this isn’t child’s play

His heart’s melody a wondrous song.

 

Lub dub, swishing racing sounds are wrong

Regular beats our prayer every day

Heartbeats steady, softy hiccupping along.

 

Steady sounds, regular beats our wish life-long

Tachycardia be gone, go away

His heart’s melody a wondrous song.

 

We reject Death’s request for a liaison

Stay and smell the roses in life’s bouquet.

Heartbeats steady, softy hiccupping along

His heart’s melody a wondrous song.

 

3 AM

Standard
3 AM

3:00am. Bells pealing, noise! I crawl out of the warm cocoon of blankets to stand outside under the inverted bowl of the night sky. Inky black and pierced by a million brilliant diamonds of light. The wind sweeps down Mount Coochin driving all before it. The dust devils swirl and twirl carrying the tang of gum on the sharp cold edge of the dancing leaves. They rush and roar along the bitumen drowning out the cacophony of the chimes and then they are gone, only the whisper of their passing remains. The chimes are relentless. They click and clack, swinging, swaying in the breeze and then falling silent as one by one I lift them from their lofty perches and silence their tongues. I lay them on the bench and the silence reproaches me. Dull and heavy the air crackles as the next wave descends the mountain. A rustle, a whisper and then a soft caress fans my cheek, followed by the bitter slap of the wind. The moon’s crescent is brightly haloed and the rumble builds to a roar as the wind tumbles down the mountain. The leaves shiver and shake, branches quivering bend beneath its force and it is gone. The new silence is broken as the sleeping truck across the street awakes. I hear the deep-throated grumbling of the truck motor, as the key turns in the ignition rousing it from sleep. The grumble resolves to a purr as the motor rises to wakefulness and two bright orbs of golden light signal its departure from its lair, ready to meet another day. One last glance at the muted chimes I draw my robe closer and head back to my bed, I have stood a good hour captured in the thrall of the night sky and the mountain’s magic. Such beauty lies in nature’s wonder.

An Arthurian Twist

Image
An Arthurian Twist

I still love this piece

justmecreativewriter

From November to December  each year, a competition known as the Gary Grew Award  (University of the Sunshine Coast ) is open for submissions. For Creative Writing Students at the University, this is the Holy Grail. I wrote two pieces this year, both very different. Because I could not make up my mind which one to enter, I tried a popular poll. Then I asked a couple of my peers for their advice.  The jury was out 50/50.  So I resorted to the time honoured tradition of flipping a coin.  “Myrddin Wyylt” lost.  This piece was originally written on a watermarked page.  With drop capitals and different script.  I am unable to reproduce this in the blog.The piece that I have submitted is  called, “A One-Sided Conversation.”  The theme of the competition is  “My life began with the written Word.”.  I will publish the other piece when the competition results…

View original post 406 more words

Key Tag Alert

Standard
Key Tag Alert

In today’s busy world many family groups live apart because of work or personal commitments. The village style of life has disappeared in modern suburbia and in rural towns.  Friends are virtual, not the next door neighbour. People live longer, alone in their own homes and are more independent.   There are pro’s and cons for every situation, but what about our pets, our fur babies?

We travel in the car to shop, to go to the movies, to attend appointments and to visit friends. The unthinkable occurs, a car accident.  You loved pet is home alone.  You are hospitalised.  What happens to your fur baby?

This bright yellow key tag alerts authorities to your situation, the accompanying information in your wallet has contact details, your address and a person to call if your animals need assistance.  A simple but ingenious idea.

I recently purchased two of these tags.  my partner and I do not know our neighbours. We live in a rural town in a street that has a high occupancy turnover.  If we are in a crisis scenario, it is a comfort to know our animals will not be ignored or forgotten. Peace of mind for under $5.00.    Excellent customer service and a quick turnaround on your order. Contact https://store.fetchy.com.au/

 

In Memorium

Standard
In Memorium

When the winds blew cold

You were there.

When the rains came

You were there.

Now death has come

You are no longer there.

 

I hear your voice

In the whisper of the wind.

I see your smile

In the smidge of a cloud.

I hear your laughter

In the burble of bird song.

 

 

I feel your touch

In the softest breeze.

I sense your presence

In the beauty of the blooms.

Now death has come

You are no longer there.

 

Your corporeal body

Has long since passed.

Crumbled and gone

A life well lived.

Where hides your soul?

Your love ?

Your laughter?

You left me

Standing here.

 

Alone I ponder

On the greatest mysteries.

Of life, of death, of birth

The answers elude me.

I seek the comfort of your arms

Alas they are no more.

For you are gone

Now death has come.

 

Will we meet again?

Will we walk hand in hand?

Will we find peace

In the Elysium fields?

When death has come for me

And I am no more.

 

TURNING POINT

Standard

  NEW YEAR RESOLUTIONS – These do nothing for me I always break them. Yesterday heralded the Southern Hemisphere’s  winter solstice.  Time to ring in the changes.

If I were writing an academic piece I would be castigated for using a cliche, however, this is my blog and I am rather fond of cliches if they are apt.

I attended a lecture yesterday and had a “light bulb” moment.  My muse has returned and the blockage cleared.  Thank you, Gary – it was a great lecture. Sometimes you hear things and they don’t really sink in.  The lecture yesterday is one I have heard, perhaps four or five times in differing formats. Every time I hear it I come away with something new. That says more about the skill of the lecturer than my listening skills.

I have been struggling to find the voice of my character in my novel.  There are times when I am spot on and times when I miss the mark completely.diaries

Recently I have discovered I love using epistolary devices – letters, diaries and newspaper clippings and I have come to a considered decision.  Taking a leaf out of my mentor’s work, I am going to become a bower bird and use the technique of bricolage. I will create these items and integrate them, using them as an entre to each chapter. In turn,  these provide background and verisimilitude to the work and helping to ground the voice in the chapter.

What does all of this have to do with resolutions and changing habits? I have arrived at a space where I need a formal structure to get through my day.   A roster has been drawn up and is now in place and it allows for writing, study,  household chores, exercise and other unanticipated events. In a word it is flexible. Written in bold across the top is NO GAMES & LIMIT SOCIAL MEDIA.

It will be interesting to see how I manage. My aim is one day at a time and to see what eventuates.  Buckle up folks it could be a bumpy ride.