Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Week 5



April 19th, 2012
                The front page displayed a rare bird that hopped across the road and entered Gregory’s Market, tripping the wooden doorstop to the supply closet and locking itself in. Gregory’s son and successor, Francis, was too busy reading the front page of the previous day’s news to consider who went into the bathroom, and how long they had been in there.
                It took a few days and restocking the dairy products to realize the smell came from a carcass that had been torn apart by an unknown infestation of rats. The bird was disposed of by wrapping the newly outdated article around the body, picking it up by the leg, and tossing it into the woods.
                Needless to say, every day is a slow news day.


April 20th, 2012
                Frances’ only memory of her mother lay in the photograph. Shrouded in a silk sheet, she held her still; long enough for the camera film to reach the proper exposure.
                Now, as a teenager, she talks to her hidden mother who takes the form of a curtain, stored furniture, or the sound of a flickering candle’s breath.  


April 21st, 2012
                He has mastered the art of watchmaking to such an extent that he keeps all time by a watch broken at 8:16. It sits in front of him at the table, reflecting the moving daylight from its golden sheen to different intervals of the day. When the pinpoint of light reaches its minute, it strikes him in the eye, and he winces briefly, enough to conclude a day has passed since yesterday.  


April 22nd, 2012
                Hastings turned the key in the ignition and Reed pressed the button on his jacket. For a brief moment, an uncomfortable silence spread between the two of them. “Start the engine.” Reed said.
                Hastings turned the key again. The car wheezed but refused to start.
                “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
                “Should we call somebody?” asked Hastings.
                Reed shook his head. “I’m padlocked to the seat. The plan was to start the timer the instant you turned the key. Then you’d drive along the highway and speed through the motorcade and hit the limo. According to the precise nature of our timing, they wouldn’t have time to stop us. Naturally, the key turned, and I pressed it.”
                “We should have said when the engine started.”
                “Agreed.”
                “Is it okay if I leave?” Hastings asked.
                “You’re going to leave me in this car to die alone?”
                “Well, I mean… since the plan is fucked.” Hastings shrugged. “Yeah.”
                Reed decided it would be best to refrain from saying anything for the rest of his life.


April 23rd, 2012
                The greatest pride Virgil had in his job was spending his break high up on the window washing lift, eating his bologna and cheese sandwich while dipping the squeegee in the dirt-and-soap water, and holding it out over the edge and shaking it vigorously. There was nothing funnier to him than watching a few drops of water plummet into the oblivion in the city, only to imagine that something so insignificant would ruin somebody’s jacket, hair, or day.  

April 24th, 2012
                I remember how my first trip to a synagogue was also my most memorable experience with the Jewish tradition, while at the same time, a freshly purchased blueberry and cream cheese bagel, a double shot vente black coffee from Starbucks, and a small slice of fudge aided me in understanding Yom Kippur from the middle row.


April 25th, 2012
                During the Christmas season, the nativity themed tour guided the visitors through Jerusalem, Bethlehem, and Galilee, but in the summer at night, my friends call it Jerusahemilee. The men and women of that time are long gone, and the dust and hay settle on the abandoned structures and obscure the boundaries between each sectioned area. Even Christ’s empty manger is hard to find in the darkness, and my closest friend, when finding it misplaced by local pranksters other than ourselves, feels an eerie compulsion to return it to the proper building. But as the season fades into autumn, and the night becomes cloudier, it is hard to find anything. 

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