Midnight Train (For Day One)

I hear the midnight train,

And wish that I was on it.

The pounding of its passing pushes its way through the miles separating. A distant warning horn wails.

I wish I was on it. My bags at my feet, my head rests against the glass, the vibrations make my eyes play tricks on my brain. My hand curls under my chin as the lights rush past, just a blur of golden yellow. 

My body moves with the trains swaying speed.

My destination, just somewhere that's not here. 

I hear the midnight train.

I wish that I were on it.

(Yes, I know I'm late to the party. Better late than never? I lost track of time this month)

The Same Old Brand New Feelings

It’s adorable how you clap your hands with delight when I remind you that I have children. Every time, you get an unmistakable Grandma twinkle in your eye. “Children?!” You almost squeal with delight. “Oh how wonderful!” And when I show you pictures of Maddie and Asher, you just sigh with happiness.

But it works both ways, this memory loss. Grandpa died seven years ago. And every time you tell me he’s coming home from work and I have to tell you that, no, he isn’t because he passed away, your heart breaks again.

Every single time.

It’s not fair.

Birth

First comes the wind

tearing trees right off their roots

            Father?

Second comes the ripple

popping like bones breaking tendons snapping

What’s happening?

Third comes the thunder

cliffs splitting, mountains shattering

The ground becomes the sky

            Save me.

My father’s city crumbles

Rubble on writhing ground

Screams of hundreds maybe thousands sinking through the dust

Father, please!

But we cannot move at all

The earth, she holds us hostage

As she opens to her core

Her womb, it’s nearly bursting

As something warps within

The mountain shrieks in pain

As twisting writhing burning

Births a beast that’s born of flame

The Weeping Game - The City That Never Sleeps

It began immediately.
The toes stepped out from that moving car and were promptly met with the unwelcoming state of The Jungle. The skies, dark and gloomy, cried somber tears of melancholy emotions onto the inhabitants of the sweeping city. There were no tissues to meet the sadness, just umbrellas (a body of water in and of itself). Those who held the parts of the massive sea looked as somber as the sky. As if the world was spoiled milk and they were the much desired lucky charms, ruined by the rancid fluid.
Everyone in The Jungle was miserable.
Everyone but me.

Subtle love

I can't believe that we've known each other for so many years. We both
love the silly, little things. Remember that time that we saw those balloons and
you started acting like a five year old? You never fail to make me laugh. I've said
more times than I can count that I love nothing more than tomorrow; it's brighter
than today.You have a new chance to do something brave, something insane
tomorrow. But now, this is the most insane thing I've done. I can't ever top this.


You should probably read the first word of each line now...

Drabble #2: Simple

Drabble #2: Simple on somethingkaty

When You Wish You Were Awake

You run, but it’s pointless, a reflex.  Arms cut the air, legs attempt to push off the ground.  Heart exploding.  But you’re stuck.  In slow-motion.  You can feel it gaining on you.  Feel its shadow clawing after you, feel the heat of its breath on the back of your neck.  Don’t look back.  Don’t.  Eyes forward, wide, searching, wet with tears.

Then it happens.  Struck on the lower back, like a hundred hot needles going into your spine.  Feet leave the ground, kick the sky.  You hit the pavement, just a crumpled broken baby doll.  Wake up.  Just wake up.

Tremors

There’s a little shaking of the earth tonight

Just a little twitch

But it’s stronger than yesterday’s

and it grows like rabid drums

And my feet, they’ve known the ground

But now they are uncertain

Pebbles dance like mad men

Where pebbles should be still

And now my heart, it tremors

I do not know this beat.

The sea himself rolls back

Away from mountain cliffs

And the creatures that are his

Streak beneath the blue

I want to hide there too

The oracle is chanting

Eyes glazed over, white

Something is coming, he screams

Growing, coming, crawling from deeps

carousel

He contemplated the concept of revenge.
It is not just payback or getting even. No, revenge is much more.
It is the red of their pain, blue of their anguish, purple of their remorse. It's a rainbow of feelings, a kaleidoscope of thoughts, a carousel of a journey.
The carousel goes around and you cannot get off.
It doesn't stop.
It goes
and
goes

and


goes

Revenge consumes your soul like a beast.

All this he thought, yet he wanted the rainbow. He wanted the rainbow so he was willing to take the carousel.




But the beast...oh the beast.

Drabble #1: Vaster

Drabble #1: Vaster on somethingkaty

A Woman - The City That Never Sleeps

Her eyes listlessly drift across the sea of people, the various shapes and sizes melding together to look like one, big blob of life.
Her once vibrant hair now lays wispy and white. The cane used to hold up her feeble body leans as she does, propped up against the solitary bench. Oh, but her face! It's a masterpiece, a canvas that exhibits the beautiful inscriptions of the battles of her life. The strokes of the paintbrush have been many and ceaselessly scrawl countless lines into her flesh.
She's walked all over kingdom come, but for now, she sits.
Greyed, weathered, worn.

I wonder what those eyes have seen.

Super Saturday Title

I don't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing that day one is a Thursday. But anyway it is so here is the title for Super Saturday.

"Jagged Edges". 

Looking forward to seeing what everyone writes!

Writing about Writing

It’s the easy way out. To just write about writing. Seems circular. A roundabout way of discussing nothing.

But if we didn’t write about writing, we would be missing something crucial. There is an ever-growing line of text that circles up and down and all around and straight from your eyes into your brain and then to your heart. That is the weapon and the grace of the words. Characters joined together to hurt or heal or inspire or degrade or all of those together and they just go on and on.

There. I’ve written about writing.

The story continues.

One a Day...

"There is one outside right now."

"A what?"

"You know, that thing that shows up."

"Oh, that thing? I thought it left."

"It did, but it came back."

"Why?"

"It comes back ever day."

"But it left yesterday."

"It will leave again today."

"But isn't it still out there?"

"Yes, exactly"

"But if it's there now, then when will it go?"

"How should I know?"

"I thought you knew?”

"No I really don't."

"I thought you timed it.”

"Nope."

"Can it come back again today?"

"I'm pretty sure it that only one comes each day."

"Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure..."

Holy moly April is over

Dear Drabblers,

You've heard the old saying "April showers bring May flowers"? Well, today I'm introducing you to a new saying. "April showers bring DrabDayMoMay". It's sure to catch on in the general vernacular.

Because here we are. April less than two hours away from her demise. May just around the corner, ready and waiting for us to arrive.

You know the rules. A drabble is a piece of writing exactly 100 words in length. My challenge to you is to write one every single day in May. They can all be a cohesive story. They can be wildly different from each other. Or some sort of in-between state. It's all good.

On Thursdays, I'll post the title for Super Saturday. Saturdays, you post the drabble that goes with that title. You don't have to do it but it's always intriguing to see the different stories that come from the same title.

If you are drabbling on your own blog, that's fine. If you'd like to post your drabbles on this blog, let me know and I can give you access. When posting here, remember to tag your name so that it's easy to read the drabbles by author. And feel free to add other tags as well.

The point is to write. 100 words. 31 days.

Let's do this.

Best of luck,
The Curator