The first time I saw you was a lot like the last, smothered by the rank stench of fear. The air was cold and damp, firmly after sunset, not that I could explain why I was so sure. My blood ran hot, each and every vein boiled. Then, you. Your pupils were flared, and the look of absolute rage on your face, directed at me? I froze immediately. Every inch of my skin bristled with anticipation…
I didn’t get much mail, making the white, crumbled envelope crammed under my heavy door more exciting. There were globs of orange the same shade as my hair all over the outside, with my name sprawled across in large calligraphy, Ava “Teamkill” Jackson. I hadn’t seen my full name in a while, and never with my street name. The whole invitation was a mockery of my past, and the terrible things I’d done to shed my birthname. Let alone all the friends, and allies I’d stabbed in the back to get the brand my title was. The invitation letter was specifically designed to irritate me, and to make me lose my hot head…
Brianna stares at the middle-aged bank representative in a black polo and dress pants asking for her parents, then looks just left of his bearded face into the tall bushes of big red hibiscus flowers for a good lie…
Short but wide red mushrooms peak out from under fanning brown leaves, bright spots enlivening the regular, dreary gray mountainside so familiar to those of the small but familial city of Winderscot. Traditionally, dark log cabins dot the valleys clear of the towering dark oak trees that make up most of the mountain, but in these modern times concrete and drywall creations find themselves side by side the classical homes of long-standing families…
The door slams. A second, softer thump following signals the flimsy screen door hitting the frame with a subtle screech as the metal lock snaps into place. Less than two minutes later the old door creaks open again, and the sound’s parade repeats. Soft footsteps from the first floor can be heard through the hardwood flooring, along with a faint jazz tune playing gently over muffled talking. The steady scratch of lead moving across spiral notebook paper, Dart always so specific about getting their college-ruled paper as if they could ever run out of space to cram in more chicken-scratch notes into years old ledgers and workbooks…
A tawny colored hand, slim and poised, reaches out and tugs a slim red tie down into a firmer knot.
“Mom!” Ryan coughs and reaches up to where his starched, white collar is flared up, touching his chin…
A dark shape moved with the heavy sheets of rain. I counted the vague swirls marching down the sidewalk, reveling in the flood. The huge oak trees across from our building sat in pools, completely immersed to their roots. The shadows paraded down west 142nd street in a show of force against Manhattan…
“She was stretched on her back beneath the pear tree soaking in the alto chant of the visiting bees, the gold of the sun and the panting breath of the… Read more Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston- Quote Collection →
Bad Ideas 