Ah humanity!

2006-10-17T14:10:00.000-05:00

I don't know if they de-activate these things, so I'm only posting here to avoid that. Good day.

2005-11-12T01:40:00.000-06:00

Why not?

Cinderella Toes

2005-11-11T16:40:00.000-06:00

Everyone thinks the same thing when they hear the word cleavage. I heard it in my cell bio class and I smiled- but it wasn’t that kind of cleavage.
Then came butt cleavage. All over Hollywood, young actresses with their ass cracks hanging out, and it was supposed to be sexy. Butt cleavage. Then (and I don’t know when this started) came the worst cleavage of them all. And I saw it everywhere. I saw it on models and actresses, and I saw it when I went to nice restaurants.
When those little stilettos you love so much don’t quite fit. The Manolo Blahniks you spent a fortune on. And they don’t quite fit, but you force them on anyways. You curl up your toes, and you squeeze them on. And every time you look down- revealed cracks between your toes, tiny fissures now, squeezed together, suffocating on top of one another. The shoes are a sardine can, but you’re packing halibut. You force them on anyway. And every time you look down, the cracks grimace at you.
It didn’t matter at first. The shoes looked good, and it was worth it to be uncomfortable for a few hours. But now you just look desperate. Now you’re uncomfortable and you have toe cleavage and it doesn’t even look good. Now even the people who think butt cleavage looks good look at you, and they try to keep their eyes off your feet. But you know they know. You just look desperate. Knobby aching tarsals poke out of your shoes, and they tell you, expensive shoes won’t make your life better. Expensive shoes won’t change you.
Cinderella probably had toe cleavage. She would have done damn near anything to get away from that life of hers. So she forced her feet in, and what’s worse? They were glass, so even if you couldn’t see her toe cleavage before, you could see it now-the whole foot, swelling and red, and the slipper, glass, for the whole world to see.

Haiku

2005-11-10T16:29:00.000-06:00

Sorry- I think haikus are stupid, but I was reading Fight Club and it forced me to think of some on my walk home.

Over the ocean

A melting sun bleeds farewell

To coldwater graves

how lame. Speaking of which....

Haikus are stupid

But I made one anyway

Is that ironic?

2005-10-31T00:28:00.000-06:00

Lets test out the picture capabilities

Revised Harvest

2005-10-31T00:18:00.000-06:00

The second draft of "Harvest" in one piece:

I
It was almost harvest and the tall summer wheat waved and rippled along its soft tops so that the whole great field seemed to move. A long gravel road stretched to the horizon in each direction, turning to a grey haze under the bright sun. The thin stems of wheat matted down a few hundred yards off the road where two small bodies lay unmoving.
She turned her head slightly toward the boy to her side, squinting through one eye. The bright sun reflected a delicate light off his cheek. Her opposite hand ran through the tan wheat, knocking the soft seeds at their tops into the dark soil below.
“What’s it gonna be like when we’re married?” she asked, turning up on an elbow to face him. He wore dirty overalls without a shirt and chewed on a wheat stem, his hands clasped behind his head.
“I dunno, Emma. I guess it’ll be how our parents are like.”
‘Yeah, but how’ll that be?”
“I dunno. I’ll go out and work and farm, and you can stay in and do the housework.”
“And take care of the kids?” She rose higher on her elbow.
“Kids? Yeah, I suppose.”
“And we’ll have a whole bunch of them, won’t we? Six or seven maybe. The first boy’ll be Nathan of course, but then I got others too. Susan and Emily and Margaret for the girls, John and Benjamin for your daddy and mine, and maybe Adam or Luke. You like any of those?”
“They all sound fine to me,” said Nathan without moving. The stalk of wheat waved in the air as he chewed, his tight lips working it into the space between his front teeth. His eyes were closed.
“And it’ll our little family forever, right?”
“Mhmm,”
“Nathan,” said Emma, rising to her feet. He didn’t move. “Nathan,” she persisted. “We’d better get going. Its getting late.” She stretched her arms out, dropping more wheat seed as she did and squinted, looking toward the dipping sun. The boy still lay unmoving. “Nathan Mathew Wilson,” she said with her hands on her hips, the way she’d seen her mother do. “Let’s go. We’ll be late for dinner.” She bent down and grabbed a dark arm in her dirty white hands. “C’mon mister. Up you go,” she grunted. He finally opened his eyes and stood, glaring at her as he did. “There you are,” she said, smiling sweetly. “Let’s go home.”
The field parted easily before them as they made their way toward the road. Neither wore shoes and they walked on the soft matted grass beside the gravel. Emma walked lightly next to Nathan, watching his face as they went. “I can’t wait ‘till we’re married,” she said. He said nothing, but jammed his hands into the pockets of his overalls, walking more stiffly. She hooked an arm under his elbow as the red sun made hazy figures in the distance.

II
Emma lived in a modest home a quarter mile from Nathan, where she shared a bedroom with two younger sisters. It was quiet and cozy at night, and still warm enough that she could leave the window open in her room. The breeze crept easily through cornfields behind her house and they rustled and whispered under her window. The three girls were already in bed, but the door was still slightly open, a sliver of light working its way across the bare wooden floor. Her mother came in to tuck the girls in. The two younger ones had already fallen asleep and she kissed them softly on the head, but Emma was still awake, lying on her stomach and gazing out into the fields.
“Time for bed, you know. Did you get your clothes ready for tomorrow?” Emma nodded and pointed at the worn dress laying out. “Good. And I bet you didn’t wash up tonight either, so don’t think you’re getting out of it tomorrow.”
“I know Mama. Goodnight.” She reached up and hugged Mama around her neck. “Hey Mama,” she said, letting go. “How do you know when somebody loves you?”
“You mean how do I know I love you?”
“No, not like that. I mean how did you know you were in love with Daddy?”
“Is someone here thinking about a certain boy?”
“No,” she giggled nervously. “I was just wondering.”
“Well when you’re in love with someone, or they’re in love with you, you’ll just know. They’ll make you feel different.”
“Different like how?”
“Well,” she paused to think about it. “They’ll make you feel special. Like its only the two of you in the whole world, and you want to be together forever.” She smoothed a hand over Emma’s hair and kissed her on the forehead. “But little girls don’t need to worry about love. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.” Emma pulled the covers over her mouth and nose, just enough to see over the top.
“Ok,” she sighed. “Night Mama.”
“Goodnight, Emma.” She shut the door and the sliver of light pulled back into the hallway.

III
The dusty yellow school bus picked the kids up at the crossroads a half mile up at 8 every morning. At 7:30 Emma sat on the front step of her house, waiting for Nathan to walk by. Soon she saw his small figure down the road and she hopped off the step; swinging her lunch and small reader she skipped out to meet him.
“Morning Nathan,” she said. “You’re late. We’ll have to walk fast if we’re gonna catch the bus.”
“We’ll be fine. We still got at least 25 minutes.”
“I waited for you.”
“Yeah, I know that.”
“Well aren’t you happy I did?”
“Sure.”
“Well why don’t you carry my books for me?” He looked at her hesitantly, then at the books and finally took them. They walked along quietly as the bus rumbled toward the crossroad, kicking dust and gravel into great clouds behind it. The two ran toward it, climbing its steps and into a worn vinyl seat near the front. Nathan stared out the window watching the fields go by, and in the faint reflection of the glass Emma could just see herself looking over him. He looked past the reflection, toward the distance, but she leaned warmly into him. Without warning, she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, pulling back quickly and sitting still with her hands in her lap. Her light cheeks turned crimson and she didn’t look at him. He said nothing, only wiped his cheek with the back of his hand and stared out the window. Finally, she looked at him, looked at his eyes in the reflection and nudged him softly with her hand. “Nathan,” she said uneasily. His eyes stayed on the fields.
“Why did you do that? Why did you kiss me?” His voice was hard.
“I don’t know. Because I thought I was your girlfriend.”
“Well I don’t want a girlfriend who’s gonna kiss me,” he replied coldly, and scooted further into the corner of the seat. Emma clasped her hands tightly in her lap and shut her eyes as tight as she could.

IV
The cornfields came before the wheat and had grown almost to full height, standing like great barriers against the sides of the road. Unlike the wheat, they separated into neat rows and the two walked under its cover. The midday sun shone brightly on the yellow and green, but a line of clouds built on the horizon, a slight wind pushing before it, fluttering through stray tassels that bent and danced through the air as they were pulled from their tops. The two walked through the neat rows, turning sideways to keep from the rough leaves. Emma walked behind Nathan, holding her dress at the knees. She stepped daintily through the footsteps he left in the soft soil.
“I’m sorry for kissing you on the bus today.” She hopped a step up to his side, just behind his hip so they could both fit between the rows.
“So why’d you do it?”
“I don’t know. I thought maybe you’d like it, and it could mean I was your girlfriend.”
“Well I didn’t like it.”
“Yeah, I know,” she said, digging a toe into the dirt.
“You can be my girlfriend,” he said. “Just don’t do stuff like kiss me.” She looked back up at him and smiled. “But I never had a girlfriend before, so you gotta tell me what I’m supposed to do.”
“I dunno. You just gotta do stuff that makes me feel special.”
“Special like how?”
“Just by carryin’ my books and such, like you did today. That made me feel special. Stuff that’s just for the two of us and no one else.” Now he looked at the ground too.
“Well I guess you’re my girlfriend then.”
“Really?” She jumped up excitedly with her hands under her chin. Nathan jammed his thumbs into the sides of his overalls and kicked at the ground.
“I guess. What do we do now?”
“We don’t have to do anything. We can just tell people I’m your girlfriend and you’re my boyfriend.
“Well can we keep walking home first? Looks like its about to rain.” No sooner had he spoken than the grey clouds moved in overhead, fat drops of rain breaking loose. They dropped a few at a time first, catching and breaking the light as they fell, but the pace soon quickened and they fell furiously, turning the field to a dark slop. It fell in a thick gray curtain so that rain couldn’t be distinguished from clouds; the sky itself seemed to be falling. Nathan grabbed her book and took off running through the rows of corn towards the road, and Emma followed behind. She grasped her dress tightly, pulling it up almost all the way so she could run, but her feet stuck in the thick mud and kicked the black mess all over her legs and dress.
“Nathan, wait up!” she cried, making her way slowly through the muck. He was more than ten yards ahead of her now, so far that she could barely see him, but could just make out his shadow ducking through the tall corn. The brass clasps of his overalls jangled sharply as he ran and she followed the sound as best she could.
The rain poured heavier still, and the sound of it roared in her ears. Lightening struck ahead and it lit the edge of the field. She was in the same row but could no longer see Nathan, so she kept toward the road. Thunder ripped over the field almost immediately after the lightening and she let out a sharp cry. “Nathan!” she cried, but couldn’t even hear herself over the tremendous pounding of the rain. Her feet sucked into the ground as she deliberately pulled each one from the sticky mud. Her back foot caught on a bent corn stalk, and before she could react, she was facedown in the mud. She scrabbled along the ground, trying to pull herself out of the mess. Then, out from the clearing, Nathan appeared again, reaching out to pull her up. “C’mon!” he yelled, “The road’s right ahead.” Turning, he disappeared back into the rows.
The corn swung madly, and she ducked her head as the tops clashed with one another. The clearing was just ahead and she pushed out to it. She stood alone for a moment, scared and soaking wet, her yellow print dress stuck to her skin and her hair matted to her head and neck, heaving from the work through the heavy mud. Nathan had skipped over the rows and he burst forth to her right, running with a wide determined smile, his tongue lapping outside his mouth like a dog after a ball. He took great leaping strides, skipping almost, so that his feet barely touched the ground. The ground hardened as he neared the road and his steps became more natural, but he kept his speed.
A dark Model-T bumped across the road, almost camouflaged in the rain, but its weak yellow headlights bouncing down the road ahead of it. There was no grey dust to kick up now, and it moved along almost stealthily, its rubber tires shushing on the wet road. Even the rattling doors and sideboards were hidden under the sound of the rain and it bore down on Nathan with a deadly determination, the yellow eyes a final warning of its presence.
Emma saw it first, just as Nathan was crossing the road. He turned back to her, a daring smile caught on his face, and she opened her mouth to yell. He must have seen it, for at the very last moment he turned sideways as the silent Model-T closed on him. Its jutting black bumper clipped him on the side, sending him into an awkward sidespin toward the opposite side of the road. The driver must have never seen him, and must have passed the jolt off as a hidden pothole, because the car never slowed, never stopped. Emma ran out to where he lay in a wet crumpled mess on the side of the road. She dropped down over his small body and lifted his head in her arms. The gray gravel dust had mixed into a paste and smeared across his face and shoulders. “Nathan,” she sobbed. She looked into his face. His eyes were barely open and they were a lackluster blue, melting into the rain and sky. His chest moved up and down weakly in her lap and his breath came out in cut rasps. She shifted a hand from his neck down toward his waist and felt the warm running of blood against the cold rain; the red flowing effortlessly into the gray sludge, turning it to rust. “Oh, Nathan,” she sobbed, “Say something. Be ok.”
She looked up into the rain, almost expecting it to disappear and make everything go away. But it kept on steadily, and the weak little body rose and fell less and less in her arms. She looked into now colorless face and was sick. Her stomach turned on itself and she shuddered violently. His mouth formed a small O and only the tiniest bit of air moved through it. She looked at the red blood and back at the white face, the frantic fear welling up inside her. She dropped his head, heard it smack into the wet ground and tore off into the cornfield.
The rain slowed and bands of yellow light broke through its gray, separating into colors and small rainbows over the fields. The heavy wheat shook small droplets from its back and the towering corn stood still as pockets of water drained from between its leaves. A few hundred yards off the road, a small girl lay unmoving, covered in mud, her eyes staring blankly down the road. She stood up and stretched, knocking fat drops of water from the rows of corn. She crept slowly back towards the road and stopped at the edge. One more small body lay unmoving and she watched its chest, waited to see it rise. She watched its white cheek, even closed one eye and tried to catch some soft sunlight from it, but it lay still. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest and ran down the road, promising never to look back again.
The little body lay still, two brown readers with clumped pages marking his fall. The binding had broke on one, its inner cover facing a clearing sky, and a name, wet and smeared but still legible: Emma Wilson.
The fields around it stood tall, preparing themselves for harvest.

What Love Looks Like

2005-10-27T03:40:00.000-05:00

“Tell me you love me. And look at me,” she said, staring up into his listless wandering eyes, grey eyes that looked past her.
“You know I can’t.”
“Of course you can,” she whined, stomping a foot and tugging on his shirt.
“You’re acting like a baby.”
“So just say it.” His glassy eyes drew past her face as he turned his head to the side.
“Ok. I love you.”
“No. Look at me when you say it.”
“You know I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. You’re just being difficult. Now do it.”
“I don’t think I could if I tried.”
“Here, I’ll help.” She took her hands to his face, firmly on each cheek, and guided his head down. “There. Now look straight ahead.” The eyes shifted lazily to the center, still grey, still looking past her. “Now say it.”
“I love you.”
“Mean it.”
“I do. I said I love you.” She let go of his face and the eyes wandered back to their comfortable corners. Then softly, “Aren't I good enough how I am?”
“Good enough? Of course, but,"
“No. No ‘but.’” You can’t make me something I’m not. And you can’t keep making me do things like that.”
“Like what?” she asked, her voice beginning to crack.
“Like making me look into your eyes. Don’t do that. Its not fair, and you know I can’t see them anyway.” She took her eyes off his face now.
“I know,” she mumbled, the sound of tears creeping into her throat.
“I can’t help that I’m blind,” he said suddenly, catching her off guard.
“I know you can’t.”
“Then why do you do it?”
“I don’t know,” she cried, shaking the building tears loose. “I just want us to be normal. I want to be like everyone else.”
He looked into the corner. “But we’re not like everyone else.”
“I know,” she sniffed. “But I just wish you could see me. I wish you could actually look me in the eyes and tell me you love me.”
“But I can’t.”
“But you can’t.” He reached out his arms, carefully and smoothly, and slid them around her shoulders, drawing her closer. They were silent for a moment.
“What does love look like?” He asked quietly into her shoulder. She pulled her head back from his chest and looked up at him.
“What?”
“Love- what does it look like? You can see, and I can’t. I want to know what it looks like.” She thought for a moment.
“I don’t know. I guess it doesn’t really look like anything.”
“That’s what I thought too. That’s why it doesn’t matter that I can’t see. I don’t have to see it to know it exists, just like I don’t have to see you to know I love you.” He took her face in his hands, softly, and so it looked into his. “And I know I love you.”
She wiped the quiet running tears from her cheeks and sunk back into his chest. “You should see my eyes though,” she said with a soft laugh. “I’m told they’re very pretty.”
“But I can’t.”
“But you can’t. And you know what? That’s ok.”

The Only Sound

2005-10-23T21:23:00.000-05:00

This was posted last year, but I'll repost it here.

I lay my head on the soft down of newfoundlove

I'm wishing well,

wishing for that depth

that shortness of breath

the heart's first swell

Of love not lost

Not quite yet found...

And in the quiet moments of summer

your voice, the only sound

Harvest IV

2005-10-22T22:25:00.000-05:00

Read previous 3

IV
The cornfields came before the wheat and had grown to almost full height, standing like great barriers against the sides of the road. Unlike the wheat, they separated into neat rows and the two walked under its cover. The midday sun shone brightly on the yellow and green, but a line of clouds built on the horizon, a foreboding wind pushing before it, fluttering through stray tassels that bent and danced through the air as they were pulled from their tops. The two walked sideways through the neat rows, turning sideways to keep from the rough leaves. Emma walked behind Nathan, holding her dress at the knees. She stepped daintily through the footsteps he left in the soft soil.
“I’m sorry for kissing you on the bus today.” He slowed slightly and she hopped a step up to his side, just behind his hip so they could both fit between the rows.
“Then why’d you do it?”
“I don’t know. I thought maybe you’d like it, and it could mean I was your girlfriend.”
“Well I didn’t like it.”
“Yeah, I know,” she said dejectedly, digging a toe into the dirt.
“Say,” he said a little more brightly. “How’d I even know you were my girlfriend anyway?” She looked back up at him and smiled.
“I dunno. You just gotta do stuff that makes me feel special.”
“Special like how?”
“Just by carryin’ my books and such, like you did today. That made me feel special.” Now he looked at the ground too.
“Well then I guess you’re my girlfriend then.”
“Really?” She jumped up excitedly with her hands under her chin. Nathan jammed his thumbs into the sides of his overalls and kicked at the ground.
“What do we do now?”
“We don’t have to do anything. We can just tell people I’m your girlfriend and you’re my boyfriend.
“Well can we keep walking home first? Looks like its about to rain.” No sooner had he spoke then the grey clouds moved in overhead, fat drops of rain breaking loose. They dropped a few at a time first, catching and breaking the light as they fell, but the pace soon quickened and they fell furiously, turning the field to a dark slop. The rain fell in a thick gray curtain so that it couldn’t even be distinguished from the clouds; the sky itself seemed to be falling. Nathan took off running through the rows of corn, towards the road, and Emma followed behind. She grasped her dress tightly, pulling it up almost all the way so she could run, but her feet stuck in the thick mud and kicked the black mess all over her legs and dress.
“Nathan, wait up!” she cried, making her way slowly through the muck. He was more than ten yards ahead of her now, so far that she could barely see him, but could just make out his shadow ducking through the tall corn. The brass clasps of his overalls jangled as he ran and she followed the sound as best she could.
The rain poured heavier still, and the sound of it roared in her ears. Lightening struck ahead and it lit the edge of the field. She was in the same row but could no longer see Nathan, so she kept toward the road. Thunder ripped over the field almost immediately after the lightening and she let out a sharp cry. “Nathan!” she cried, but couldn’t even hear herself over the tremendous pounding of the rain. Her feet were sucked into the ground as she deliberately pulled each one from the sticky mud. The corn waved furiously back and forth, and she ducked her head as the tops clashed with one another. She saw the clearing ahead and pushed out to it. She stood alone for a moment, scared and soaking wet, her yellow print dress stuck to her skin and her hair matted to her head and neck, heaving from the work through the heavy mud. Nathan had skipped over rows and he burst forth to her right, running with a wide determined smile, his tongue lapping outside his mouth like a dog after a ball. He took great leaping strides, skipping almost, so that his feet barely touched the ground. The ground hardened as he neared the road and his steps became more natural, but he kept his speed.
A dark Model-T bumped across the road, almost camouflaged in the rain, but its weak yellow headlights bouncing down the road ahead of it. There was no grey dust to kick up now, and it moved along almost stealthily, its rubber tires shushing on the wet road. Even the rattling doors and sideboards were hidden under the sound of the rain and it bore down on Nathan with a deadly determination, the yellow eyes a final warning of its presence.
Emma saw it first, just as Nathan was crossing the road. He turned back to her, a daring smile caught on his face, and she opened her mouth to yell. He must have seen it, for at the very last moment he turned sideways, as the silent Model-T closed on him. Its jutting black bumper clipped him on the side, sending him into an acrobatic sidespin toward the opposite side of the road. The driver must have never seen him, and must have passed the jolt off as a hidden pothole, because the car never slowed, never stopped. Emma ran out to where he lay in a wet crumpled mess on the side of the road. She dropped down over his small body and lifted his head in her arms. The gray gravel dust had mixed into a paste and smeared across his face and shoulders. “Nathan,” she sobbed. She looked into his face. His eyes were barely open and they were a lackluster blue, melting into the rain and sky. His chest moved up and down weakly in her lap and his breath came out in cut rasps. She shifted a hand from his neck down toward his waist and felt the warm running of blood against the cool rain, the red flowing effortlessly into the gray sludge, turning it to rust. “Oh, Nathan,” she sobbed, “say something. Be ok.”
She looked up into the rain, almost expecting it to disappear and make everything go away. But it kept on steadily, and the weak little body rose and fell less and less in her arms. She looked into now colorless face and was sick. Her stomach turned on itself and she shuddered violently. His mouth formed a delicate O and only the tiniest bit of air moved through it. She looked at the red blood and back at the white face and felt only an empty sadness. She dropped his head, heard it smack into the wet ground and tore off into the cornfield.
The rain slowed and bands of yellow light broke through its gray, separating into colors and small rainbows over the fields. The tan corn shook small droplets from its back and the towering corn stood still as pockets of water drained from between its leaves. A few hundred yards off the road, a small girl lay unmoving, covered in mud, her eyes staring blankly down the road. She stood up and stretched, knocking fat drops of water from the rows of corn. She crept slowly back towards the road and stopped at the edge. One more small body lay unmoving and she watched its chest, waited to see it rise. She watched its white cheek, even closed one eye and tried to catch some soft sunlight from it, but it lay still. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest and ran down the road, her eyes and mouth sunken in a grey, empty nothingness. The little body lay still and the fields around it stood tall, preparing themselves for harvest.

Harvest III

2005-10-22T22:23:00.000-05:00

Read previous

III
The dusty yellow school bus picked the kids up at the crossroads a half mile up at 8 every morning. At 7:30 Emma sat on the front step of her house, waiting for Nathan to walk by. Soon she saw his small figure down the road and she hopped of the step, swinging her lunch and small reader and she skipped out to meet him.
“Morning Nathan,” she crooned. “You’re late. We’ll have to walk fast if we’re gonna catch the bus.”
“We’ll be fine. We still got at least 25 minutes.”
“I waited for you.”
“Yeah, I know that.”
“Well aren’t you happy I did?”
“Sure.”
“Well, why don’t you carry my books for me?” He looked at her hesitantly, then at the books and begrudgingly took the book and bag. The walked along quietly as the bus rumbled toward the crossroad, kicking dust and gravel into great clouds behind it. The two ran toward it, climbing its steps and into a worn vinyl seat near the front. Nathan stared out the window watching the fields go by, and in the faint reflection of the glass he could just see Emma watching him happily. He looked past it toward the distance, but she moved and he felt her warmth lean into him. Without warning, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, pulling back quickly and sitting still with her hands in her lap. Her light cheeks turned crimson and she didn’t look at him. He said nothing, only wiped his cheek with the back of his hand and stared out the window. Finally, she looked at him, looked at his eyes in the reflection and nudged him softly with her hand. “Nathan,” she said uneasily. His eyes stayed on the fields.
“Why did you do that? Why did you kiss me?” His voice was hard.
“I don’t know. Because I thought I was your girlfriend.”
“I don’t want a girlfriend,” he replied coldly, and scooted further into the corner of her seat. Emma clasped her hands tightly and her lap and squeezed her eyes tightly shut, a little line of tears falling from each one.

Harvest II

2005-10-22T22:02:00.000-05:00

Read previous post first

II
Emma lived in a modest home a quarter mile from Nathan., where she shared a bedroom with two younger sisters. It was quiet and cozy at night, and still warm enough that she could leave the window open in her room. The breeze crept easily through cornfields behind her house and they rustled and whispered under her window. The three girls were already in bed, but the door was still slightly open, a sliver of light working its way across the bare wooden floor. Her mother came in to tuck the girls in. The two younger ones had already fallen asleep and she kissed them softly on the head, but Emma was still awake, laying on her stomach and gazing out into the fields.
“Time for bed, you know. Did you get your clothes ready for tomorrow?” Emma nodded and pointed at the worn dress layed out. “Good. And I bet you didn’t wash up tonight either, so don’t think you’re getting out of it tomorrow.”
“I know Mama. Goodnight.” She reached up and hugged Mama around her neck. “Mama,” she said, letting go. “How do you know when you love somebody.”
“You mean how do I know I love you? Well, of course I love you. I always will.”
“No, not like that. I mean how did you know you were in love with Daddy.”
“Is someone here thinking about a certain boy?”
“No,” she giggled nervously. “I was just wondering.”
“Well when you’re in love with someone, you’ll just know. They’ll make you feel different.”
“Different like how?”
“Well,” she paused to think about it. “They’ll make you feel special. Like its only two of you in the whole world.” She smoothed a hand over Emma’s hair and kissed her on the forehead. “But little girls don’t need to worry about love. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.” Emma pulled the covers over her mouth and nose, just enough to see over the top.
“Ok,” she sighed. “Night Mama.”
“Goodnight, Emma.” She shut the door and the sliver of light pulled back into the hallway.

Harvest

2005-10-22T21:30:00.000-05:00

-This is a story i am currently working on. Generally, these stories will be longer than I care to share in one piece, so it has been broken up into four scenes.

I
It was almost harvest and the tall summer wheat swayed gently, waving and rippling along its soft tops so that the whole great field seemed to move. A long gravel road stretched to the horizon in each direction, turning to a grey haze under the bright sun The thin stems of wheat matted down a few hundred yards off the road where two small bodies lay unmoving.
She turned her head slightly toward the boy to her side, squinting through one eye. The bright sun reflected a delicate light off his cheek. Her opposite hand ran through the tan wheat, knocking the soft seeds at their tops into the dark soil below.
“What’s it gonna be like when we’re married?” she asked, turning up on an elbow to face him. He wore dirty overalls without a shirt and chewed on a wheat stem, his hands clasped behind his head.
“I dunno, Emma. I guess it’ll be how our parents are like.”
"Yeah, but how’ll that be?”
“I dunno. I’ll go out and work the fields, and you can stay in and do the housework.”
“And take care of the kids?” She rose higher on her elbow.
“Kids? Yeah, I suppose.”
“And we’ll have a whole bunch of them, won’t we. Six or seven maybe. The first boy’ll be Nathan of course, but then I got others too. Susan and Emily and Margaret for the girls, John and Benjamin for your daddy and mine, and maybe Adam or Luke. You like any of those.”
“They all sound fine to me,” said Nathan without moving. The stalk of wheat waved in the air as he chewed, his tight lips working it into the space between his front teeth. His eyes were closed.
“Nathan,” said Emma, rising to her feet. “Nathan,” she persisted. “We’d best get going. Its getting late.” She stretched her arms out, dropping more wheat seed as she did, and squinting, looked toward the dipping sun. The boy still lay unmoving. “Nathan Mathew Wilson,” she said with her hands on her hips, the way she’d seen her mother do. “Let’s go. We’ll be late for dinner.” She bent down and grabbed a dark arm in her delicate white hands. “C’mon mister. Up you go,” she grunted. He finally opened his eyes and stood, glaring at her as he did. “There you are,” she said, smiling sweetly. “Let’s go home.”
The tan wheat parted easily before them as they made their way toward the road. Neither wore shoes and they walked on the soft matted grass beside the gravel. Emma walked lightly next to Nathan, watching his face as they went. “I can’t wait ‘till we’re married,” she said. He said nothing, but jammed his hands into the pockets of his overalls, walking more stiffly. She hooked an arm under his elbow and leaned her head on his shoulder as the red sun made hazy figures in the distance.