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Showing posts with the label fractured

Carrie's Question

Tossing and turning and trying so hard to sleep - I could hear mom and dad arguing down the hall. I wish they’d stop, because the boys might wake up, and I’m just too tired to get them back to sleep.   Dad is telling mom that she has to stop drinking and using the rent money, and I know she’s crying. Geeze, I’ve heard ‘em all, excuses from behind that damn door. From behind the closed door creeps the sounds of poverty , echoes in my head  I think how great that would be for personification, so I grab my journal to add that note. My pen’s stuck in the crease of a poem.  I wrote this in class today as Ms. Patel droned on and on about the beauty of poetry and the deeper meanings it contains. Ms. Patel, sometimes poetry is just lines with meter and words that may or may not rhyme.   Sometimes a phrase that you may think is a simile or metaphor is just a reflection of the reality of the poet’s existence. These were the introductory remarks I wrote in class....

Candace's Confession

“My resentment flared again today - my resentment toward almost everyone, including my own children.  I am tired, and most days I just don’t know how I am going to get through all this.  I appreciate that I have housemates, seriously.  I couldn’t survive in my life right now without the physical and financial support of Sam and Ileana.  But that support comes with a price tag, and I am tired of paying it.   I am not sure what I really want in my life.  I thought once I knew.” The therapist makes a note and then slowly glances at Candace.  “Did you ever know what you wanted in your life?” “Of course,” scoffs Candace, irritated at the question. How many times have I said this before? “Then tell me what you once wanted.” Her irritation continuing to rise, Candace shifted in her seat and stared out of the window into the darkening sky.   How does she just not get it?, she thought.  As her mind began to drift to a scene created in...

Taylor's Questioning

As she followed the detective through the maze of cubicles, Taylor grew a bit nervous.  She had never been in a police station before, and she wasn’t sure why she had been asked to speak with detectives.  She felt like everyone stared at her as she continued, and she quickly catalogued all the recent indiscretions in her life. Feeling embarrassed and guilty, she glanced down as her face flushed and barely caught a glimpse as Samanta left an interrogation room further down the hallway.  She wanted to say something to Sam, but she wasn’t even sure if Sam saw her. “Was that Samantha Vickers?” The detective appeared not to hear the question as he held the door open for her.  Inside was a middle aged woman in an off the rack suit and cheap low heels.  If Taylor knew anything, she knew clothes.  Almost too surreal, the female detective tossed her head slightly and pointed to the empty chair across the table. Taylor decided to play stupid. ...