Category: Prose

Emily Speaks Up
December 16, 2024
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| Family History, Prose
Back home, after Christmas, Rhaya decided to get her act together and start over. With the holidays behind, she'd be sucked back to the dreadful routine of school, and homework in the afternoons. It was inevitable. But she could, at the very least, look pretty for her crush, maybe feel good about herself for a change. So, once again, she dove into tables and menus, serving sizes, ounces and calories. Rhaya threw herself furiously into aerobicize, two hours every day, believing...

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Crying Inside/ Familiy Allergies
December 8, 2024
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| Family, Prose
I heard about it, you're crying inside. You won't let it out so your body does it for you, brings forth the symptoms, and all of us bystanders seem unable recognize the obvious. Your sneezes, the watery eyes from seasonal hay fever, pollens give you a reason, you are permitted to cry. Tests say its allergy to mites; gluten got a high probability, but no one knows for sure and probably never will. The specialist assures the shots may do...

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Things that Fly
December 8, 2024
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| Prose
When noticing things that fly, vision strives upward, blackbirds shriek, common gray ones flutter on branches, loaded with nutlets. Beyond the trees, up above, a huge bird of prey, some hawk or eagle, scans the city by air. He passes over the buildings, gliding with patience, unhurriedly, up where time is different, and mountains mock man made towers. A vision wants to take off bad, again and again, to see it all from the heights, because eyes  have wings. Things...

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The Amber Pearl
October 16, 2024
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| Family, Prose, Uncategorized
She lay alone again,  thought she might cease to be, in the disarray of the unsupported mattress, the humid night, her newness to love. But someone was there, even greater than herself,  a pearl, sleeping in a cold river, reflecting amber light back into her head. She knew she'd lost, and back then believed it was everything. But one night, when summer began to dwindle, she realized she remained, above herself, as varnish sometimes does, even over worn out wood. Next...

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Soothe
August 25, 2024
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| Family, Prose
CHAPTER 5  ¿Who Will help Sonia? "Sonia is such a chubba", said Dany, Rhaya's middle daughter, "like it was already after twelve, and we were in bed, and she said —I need more ice cream, let's go downstairs— and I was like ¡no way! You already had one whole pint of cookie dough. I was like LOL” Dany smiled fondly. She could see it. Sonia had a problem with food, but found it endearing nonetheless.  “But its not like anyone...

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Bodies and Gurus continued
July 13, 2024
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| Family History, Prose
Rhaya got on with the program a week later. The lanky exercise lady's book never returned to its place in the shelf, she kept it close by, on her nightstand. Now she had all the tools needed to keep herself in check, using the book as reference material. An extreme urge pressed on her to do it flawlessly, with total concentration. All other aspects of her life would have to wait, like cleaning her room; talking to Gaby, her best...

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Bodies and Gurus
June 25, 2024
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| Family, Prose
Chapter 4 from ¿Who Will Help Sonia? Rhaya began her mission to eliminate the potbelly. A new impulse drove her away from daydreaming about her next-door neighbour, the beautiful boy with honey coloured hair and large hands. A fresh drive towards research had emerged. She'd find a strategy to loose the pot belly nuisance. Her parents library was sure to have a book that could provide a sure shot solution. Of not so, ¿why did they keep so many different...

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The Item
April 7, 2024
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| Family History, Prose
There is a presence, an item, and it lives, without need for oxygen. But it's not him, even if my mind's eye insists. I made him up in the length of decades. After many words ensued, he inhabited my head, full of himself. He became a rant, annoying as a jump scare, never listened. But today I let him go, even if he imprints his presence, always busy in the background, ready to protect from the greatest threat of them...

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Baroque
March 26, 2024
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| Family, Homage, Prose
You're so classic, almost baroque. Must be those strands, it's been a while since you let them be; coarse between my fingers, opulent mahogany curl, streaked with silver anguish, and the burnt butter of your skin. Yes, I know what the harshness of grey skies did to our mane. You're such a moth ball now, although I still like you in a suit, when you give off the aroma of a cool cathedral, enclosed, quiet. Time's debris floats in subdued...

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Time stamps
March 9, 2024
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| Family History, Prose
Time deals differently now. I ask to the invisible ¿have I been dislodged, dug out of somewhere, a matured stone turned crystal? ¿Or was something dug out from me? ¿Is it possible to go backward, find the place where I was brighter, before solidity? Maybe even further back, to the ancestors, in the deepest forests, when conversations happened all at once; trees reverberated voices, whispers emanated as song, before this extraction, when the pit was left bare. ¿Could I sleep...

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