jeanniemackenzie
Frank edged cautiously around the edge of the southern edge of the crater. The spattering of low lying green vegetation relieved the almost uniform silvery grey surface of the mountain, but did little to hide the scale of the devastation. Frank wished he had stayed with a more domestic occupation. Door to door salesman, for instance, insurance clerk, any monotony was preferred to the terror of being a vulcanologist
Flintast was bored. He was bored with his six figure stockbroker salary, bored with his Thameside penthouse apartment, bored with his Aston Martin, bored by blonde, leggy girlfriend but he would never be bored by his life as long as he had his guinea pigs. The sheer domesticity of these animals gave him intense pleasure. They spent most of their time making homes, linging homes, having babies, eating them then starting all over again. It was a life he craved for himself
In the early days of our planet earth, an elegant creature swam in the primordial swamps, but left no fossil record. It's existence, however, is not forgotten, for it left in the coolling zephrs a song so haunting, so elemental, that it has been sung by every singer since.
I used to think the worst thoughts came to me in the small hours, when insomnia stalks the hallways, but I know now that they come during bouts of the tummy problem we brought back from Kenya. Stumbling weakly along the narrow corridor, bent around the griping pain in the guts, fearful of disgracing myself again by not making it in time, the futility, the sheer purposelessness of existence has a sharper edge than at any other time. So it was a great surprise to find last night, during a third visit to the loo, that an angel met me in the corridor. Now don't misunderstand, when I say an angel I don't mean a lassie in a glowing frock.
The only use he had for a trailer was to put a horse in it, or maybe some feed for the horse. He had a wonderfully simple view of the world, and right then she needed simplicity, so that is why your mother married a cowboy and moved to Boulder, Colorado.
She came with the morning light, trailing it behind her with a careless gesture, as though this treasure of the seas was of no consequence. A the intersection, she paused briefly, as though puzzeled by its complexity, then she high stepped forward, tossing her magnificent mane free of the last drops of sea sale.
She put it down flat, ignoring the loud hiss of steam and the smell of scorching.
blobs
blue
pink
broken
on the beach
writing since 2011 · 10 entries · 9 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Jeannie showed up.
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9days written
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the words Jeannie reaches for
borededgehorsenowcorridormakingsheerexistenceangelhomesfrankdoortriangulardeepdensespringy