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“…he smiled at how two reckless kids whose paths kept crashing into each other, and other things after that too, had put together something beautiful…”
I was able to write more material than I had in quite some years during 2011. Though the focus is Blue Lines, it was a welcome and needed break from the editing process. I period that mixed both muse inspired writing and free writing on subjects that ranged from the past, to myself.
“Automatic, Devotion, Redemption, Masterpiece,” is a work that over four parts utilized the short story, and different types of poetry, to tell the story of young couple in works that are based on words supplied by friends on facebook. I wrote each piece of the story serial style that describes the evolution of their relationship over time, and during different periods.
“Automatic” is the first piece that begins with a change in their relationship, written as a simple straight forward short story.
“Devotion” is my favorite piece. This piece of prose written to sound as if it begins directly after “Automatic,” utilizing elements that are meant sound similar to the opening story. It is two poems weaved around each other to tell the story through two different voices, to culminate to a story eventually answers questions left in “Automatic.”
“Redemption,” continues their story utilizing a fragmented short story initially told from their different vantage points. It occurs much closer in time to “Devotion,” than the first two pieces. It answers some questions that the poem “Devotion,” could not explain.
“Masterpiece,” is a story, that I feel the picture in my head was not fully realized in the end result. It maintains the essential elements that I wanted to convey. Again, a short story that tricks the reader in to believing they are witnessing an event, that is actually something much different. In “Masterpiece,” the names of the characters are revealed.
“Automatic”
Walking through the threshold, he vaguely remembered the house. Something had led him to board the flight and fly to his hometown, and aimlessly return to his childhood home. The woman allowed him into her home, though slightly wary of this stranger. Gone were the trees hiding the house from the street. The kitchen had been renovated, and the wall that separated it from the dining room that ran the expanse on the entry floor, was removed to allow for a modern update with stainless steel appliances and tile walls. Wood floors replaced the linoleum that greeted at the entrance, during his childhood.
“You used to live here son,” she asked trying to look into his weary eyes. A slight pain was evident in his eyes, yet she noticed a calm that settled him.
“Yes,” he answered. “The kitchen was half this size,” he admitted as he waved off her offer of a drink. He did not know what brought him back to this house that he had not visited in over the 20 years since they had moved away. Glancing toward the den, he recognized the floor to ceiling windows as they still looked out to familiar trees and Lake Lucerne. He grimaced remembering the adventure he and his friends would have running through the woods surrounding his home. He remembered the cold winter day that they took old wood planks that they had found and wrapping them with grocery bags thought they could create a floating raft. Within seconds the sinking at the crest of the lake proved them wrong. Continue reading
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