Posts Tagged ‘Different Flags the novel’

The Name

June 7, 2017

I learned it. I repeated it over and over again. There was no way of getting enough of it. His name was like a drug I had to have or else I would explode. It was the only name that existed, that had ever existed. Walking down the street, going to buy groceries, watching TV somehow I would hear it and everything stopped. My body sensed an electric shock. I loved that man. I loved knowing he was near me, that I could see him anytime I wanted to. He belonged to me. He belonged to my heart.

 

Anything

April 11, 2017

Anything. I would do anything for you. Whatever you wanted, whatever you needed. No risk was too much of a challenge. Nothing mattered except making sure that you were happy. I could not have loved you more if I had tried. The first time I saw you, I knew. It was that simple. My heart was full and I couldn’t wait to race over to you. I had to see you no matter what.

There

January 13, 2017

 

There we were, you and I. My knees were trembling. I made an effort to look at you, at your beautiful brown eyes. I had to do it. The words I wanted to say had to come out of my mouth. We were scared—you didn’t want to hear them and I was not going to let that stop me. My body stood before you. It was stiff. The words, I will never forget the words. They came out slowly, as if I had practiced them for hours. You said nothing; listening was all you could handle. My face was red. I swallowed hard. My patience was done with you. My legs walked me towards the door.

 

Name

December 6, 2016

Name

Feisty—that was it, exactly. A word to describe her was feisty. She appeared fragile, with her puckered up face, the deep wrinkles around the small brown eyes and the thin lips. Her body was thin. She could not have been taller than 5 feet. Her suede moccasins were dark brown; her stockings were thick and beige-colored.  She looked at you with compassion and understanding, as if she didn’t have any trouble putting herself in your shoes. Her small hands showed deep blue/purple veins. Her arms were wrinkled. She remembered faces and names. She gave lollipops to the neighborhood kids. When you were sick, she felt your illness as her own. You were hers ; that was all you needed to know.

 

 

 

Stiff

November 21, 2016

Stiff

The body was like a shut door. The body was starting to feel but it didn’t want to. It resisted life, it resisted passion. The body resisted you. The voice coming out of the mouth was small. The voice didn’t want to say it—not out loud, not for everyone to hear. Acknowledging you meant acknowledging love. That was forbidden; it just wasn’t done in our world. Hiding was allowed. Having a secret that no one must know about was allowed as well. The secret was not well-kept. The eyes could not hide what the soul felt.

 

The Name

November 18, 2016

The Name

The name. It was his name. It was his name and his only. It belonged to no other man, living or dead. She had never been aware of it before she met him. Then she smiled in amazement and joy. It was an unusual name and it became like a drug. She would spell it over and over. She wanted to see it, to read it. There was nothing like it. It was like a foreign language that she had to learn.

Life

October 17, 2016

Life

The ink for the printer, the paper to print out the book, the time spent writing it, the time slaving over the computer, writing with the finger of one hand. It was my life. The book was my life. It still is. The passion could be heard in of. She had said these things many times before. She had spoken with deep emotion in her voice. She cared. She would always care, even after she was dead. The experience which led to the writing of my novel changed my life forever. I have written other things about subjects that were meaningful to me, but nothing is as important as telling the story of a young woman discovering herself on a desperate journey far away, to a country that she left long ago. She is a stranger in that country. She’s lived elsewhere, with different people, different habits. But in this other country, she feels again. She is alive as she has never been alive. She feels young. She stops dressing like an old lady. The young woman falls in love with someone she thinks she can’t have. The man in question is a priest. Priests can’t be lovers, boyfriends or husbands.

Green

June 16, 2016

A crowded subway train.That’s exactly the color! The woman seated there by the corner is wearing a skirt just like mine! I wore a suit exactly the same shade of green.How long ago? It must have been in the late  80s. The day of the week was Friday, a Friday afternoon. I was so scared! I wanted to see him. I had to see him. My suit was made of wool and the best I could buy. He had to think I was in control, that I knew what I was going to tell him. I loved him as I had never loved before. I had not forgotten him. At least I wanted him to know that. No pressure, simply those words. We hadn’t seen each other in months. I had my own apt. I was independent. I had changed, changed for the better. An abrupt goodbye. That was it.