After breakfast I walked to the beach and looked first upon her. She drafted slowly about her tether rotating into the prevailing current.
I could see neither passengers nor crew from my distance. What a huge sea monster this ship. She must have swallowed thousands on the lazy afternoon of her departure.
As I went about my business, I kept an infrequent eye on her. While the sun rose, sailboats tacked past her curious about her presence on this salty, azure sea. Yet, I saw no signs of life, no movement visible from my perch.
At midday, I took my lunch of tacos, black beans, rice, and icy cerveza. A green conure sat on my shoulder nibbling by my ear whispering parrot talk patiently awaiting more tidbits.
The heat of the afternoon passed and occasionally I thought to spy her. Near day’s end I looked out once more to the sea.
I only saw the vernal stars and heard the muted breaking of waves along the shore. I could see no foreign disturbance on the water. Only the waves, which were always there. Without asking, she had pulled anchor and sailed on
BIO - Ray Grant - Over his professional lifetime, Ray Grant has been a teacher, a government employee, a corporate VP, an entrepreneur, and a financial planner. He even picked up a Ph.D. along the way.
He retired from all that, except the financial stuff, about five years ago. He’s recently discovered Flash Fiction (FF). Some of his stories have been epublished by Flashshot. tripod.com and Flashfiction.net. Ray is a member of TRI Studio Authors, Zoetrope Virtual Studio, and The Muse It Up Club.
BIO - Kathe Gogolewski, aka Ann Durand, has written two books: A Promise to Keep, a romantic suspense, was released from Double Dragon Publishing in February, 2005 under her pen name, Ann Durand. The other, TATO, is a fantasy adventure for middle grade readers is available from Wings Press. She has a third book, Flight of the Gryphon, a sci fi with romantic elements, due in December, 2006 from Double-Dragon Publishing. Kathe is also the Romance Editor for the new ezine for writers, The Muse Marquee, and heads up the column, Heart Beat.
She has won contests for her short stories with Storyteller Magazine and The Writer’s Journal, The Complete Writer’s Magazine. Her short stories and poems have been published by Penwomanship, JacoByte Books, and Long Story Short. . She has contributed to two anthologies: One, The Muse on Writing, is due for release from Double Dragon Publishing in 2006. She wrote the chapter Finding and Writing in Your Own Voice. She also wrote a chapter for the anthology Spiritual Visitations due from Zumaya Publications in 2008.
Each story or poem exhibited on this site has been copyrighted by TRI Studio LLC, or by our guest poets and authors. Publication of articles, stories, and/or poems elsewhere is prohibited without the permission of TRI Studio.
Why is the world so corrupt? Must the existence of rules Always create circumvention? They are the ones who salivate As they muse on their intrigues. They are the shadow people. They are the shadow people. They are the ones who salivate As they muse on their intrigues. Must the existence of rules Always create circumvention? Why is the world so corrupt?
I looked up, surprised, to see a perfect half moon Cleanly sliced in perfect symmetry and equilibrium It appeared neither reticent nor hasty And sat instead rather complete in its halfness Undiminished in the entirety of its half world And willing...to be what it would become
a perfectly spherical moon rests above the horizon still too early for luminous it appears cut out as though it has been exacted from rice paper and pasted onto a uniformly muted wash of creamy grey
yet as I watch it inhales a small fraction of the sun's light and pulses slightly faintly changed minutely moved now neither flat nor yet deep against a darkening sky
another moment and the impression of rice paper fades into soft fragments awash in the brighter medium of the new light even as this scenario advances, glowing into the next
Do not tell me that I may walk away. I know that I may; I choose not to. I prefer to tear from joy for I am fulfilled and happy.
Do not tell me that I am unbound. I know I am free; I choose to be with you. I prefer the road to your smile for What greater pleasure could I create.
Do tell me that I am your friend, And as friends we share secrets. For are not friends such that they Exchange inner thoughts and goals.
Do tell me that I am your companion, And as companions we share a lifetime. For are not companions such that they In doing the mundane create the unusual.
Do tell me that I am your love, And as lovers we shall simply know each other. For are not lovers such that they Know love’s soul and by knowing Strengthen love’s spirit.
Packed wet earth Dense with secrets Spits up her thick stem child And watches her streak toward the light Erupting at neck's end into a spray of tiny colored faces That turn up and away from the deep mother below Who is still gripping The ungainly feet of her baby
What if one day we turned ourselves inside out? Would we now love the world as we had loved ourselves? With all our secrets and vulnerabilities exposed, would anything remain to hide or protect?
Our new without would be the dark, the nothing. Within would be the light, the beauty, the universe. Would we now help each other because we had become one, or would we find new paths to self-aggrandizement?
What of the beauty of the human form? Should the new standard be the biggest heart, the reddest blood, the shapeliest liver? Would we find new ways to differentiate ourselves, so egos would once again rule?
Must we turn ourselves inside out to understand? Can we not just care for our brothers and sisters? For, after all, we are of the same parentage.
