I thought I would share an excerpt from a new story that I am writing called Outposts….It’s a work in progress 😉

from “Outposts”

by Leigh-Anne Tyson © 2010

I

Flakes of old white paint jabbed into Adele’s chin as she rested it on the window sill. She stood, leaning and staring out the window at the road sprawled out in front of her aunt’s house. She watched the rows of men filing passed the front yard. They were walking silently, dressed in their long, black funeral coats with their hats pulled down low on their foreheads. The elder men passed first, followed by the middlers. Adele peered through the shoulders and bent backs, looking for her brother.

“Adele” Lucy, Adele’s aunt called from the other room. “Time to go.” Adele didn’t move. She refused to budge from where she stood, resolved to see her brother before she went with her aunt to the funeral grounds. There was still time for her to put on her boots. There was no end in the line of men yet.  Adele picked at the paint chips. She pulled the white lace curtains around her back, making a tent around her, then leaned in closer to the glass. Her breath began to make the window fog. Adele poked the glass with her index finger, feeling the cool glass and wiped it away so that she could see clearly again. The men did not look up as they passed the house. They weren’t supposed to. The death of one of their own was a solemn occasion, Adele’s aunt explained. The women would follow after the men, carrying the garlands of flowers they had sewn together the day before to lay with the body before the final rites were said. Adele was old enough to walk with the women now, not that she cared. She missed her brother William too much. It had been four days since Cherish’s body was found behind the storage buildings, cold and lifeless in the brambles. The moment the Herold twins found her, the preparations began to commit her body. For Adele, it meant four days without stories from William as she fell asleep. No William to help her pour milk over her breakfast in the early morning. No William to hold her hand as they walked to the school house. No William. She missed him terribly.

“Adele, please, you need to put your boots on now.” Lucy said. Adele looked over her shoulder and saw her aunt standing in the doorway between the kitchen and living room.

“I just want to see him.” Adele said. She turned back and continued watching out the window.

“I know you do.” Lucy said gently. She walked to the window and lifted the curtain. She looked at her young niece with quiet eyes.  “You still need to wear boots to the grounds.” Adele didn’t look at her but nodded. Lucy held out a boot to Adele. Not taking her eyes off the road, Adele balanced her chin on the sill, and tried to yank her boot onto her foot at the same time. She just managed to pull it on when Adele spotted William in the crowd.

“There he is!” she cried. She jumped up and down excitedly, waving through the window. She saw he was walking alone behind two middlers that she did not recognize. She thought he looked very handsome in his coat.  Adele waved again to get her brother’s attention. Even though he wasn’t supposed to look around while in procession, Adele watched him turn his head towards the house. He saw her in the window, and he smiled. William lifted his hand in a small wave. The man walking in front of him suddenly looked back at William and frowned. Adele grinned through the glass. She waited until he had disappeared around the bend before she turned to her aunt and grabbed her other boot. Adele shoved her other foot inside and ran to the door.

“Wait Adele, your coat!” Lucy called after her, shaking her head. Adele burst outside before Lucy could catch her. Adele ran to the fence that lined the front yard and leaned over. She knew better than to shout after William. Adele would not be allowed to walk with the women if she did. She strained to catch another glimpse of her brother but could not, as Lucy herded her into her itchy wool coat and guided her back to the house to wait for the women to arrive.

“We will say goodbye to Cherish this afternoon” Adele listened to her aunt talking over her head as they walked.  “She was just your age.” Lucy said. It was the first time Adele heard a catch in her aunt’s voice. Adele looked up at her, but Lucy was staring off in the distance. They walked the rest of the way side by side, and met the waiting group of women in silence.
~

Resting her head against the door frame she watched him pack his bag. He rolled the tea pot in a shirt and stuffed it in the middle.

Charlie started the car and pulled away from the curb. He left her standing in the snow. Her red bandana tied sadly on her bag

day 10

It was two o’clock in the morning.  Bruce didn’t know where John had gone. Steve took off around midnight saying something about his wife. Bruce didn’t care about anything. He had no ride but he didn’t care about that either. He had all the time in the world to walk back to his parents house. It was only temporary. That’s what he told them when they picked him up at the bus stop. Shelley had dumped him in Vegas, left him on his own in the city of sin and sin he did. When he called his folks, he lied and said he’d been mugged. Everything had been stolen, his credit cards, his cash, his car everything. They didn’t question him. They never did when he called. They wired him enough cash to get on the Greyhound and three days later he arrived in Ottawa. Bruce’s dad picked him up. He didn’t say much. Bruce figured he was either pissed that he’d come home or pissed that he’d let himself be mugged. Either way, Bruce didn’t care. He needed a place to crash. He needed time to patch things up with Lila.

Bruce stumbled through the street behind the strip club. He hoped to catch Carlene before she headed home. There were some guys he didn’t recognize hanging around the stage door.

“Hey guys what’s happening?” Bruce said. He was trying to see what was going on. They ignored him, or didn’t hear him. Bruce was drunk, but he recognized a drug deal when he saw one. He took a step back, not wanting to be mistaken for someone he wasn’t. One of the guys turned and looked at Bruce. He sneered and nudged one of his buddies beside him. Bruce stood his ground, feeling braver than he should have. He swayed.

“What the hell do you want asshole?” one of the other guys said. His voice was thick and menacing. Bruce peered at his face in the shadow of the backdoor light. He didn’t recognize him either. The guy’s black eyes gave Bruce chills. Bruce stepped back when he saw a fourth guy step forward holding a long hunting knife. Before he could turn and run, the back door suddenly burst open and a gaggle of girls spilled out, including Carlene. Bruce brightened and called her name. Carlene looked around for who was calling her, and saw that it was Bruce. She frowned and walked over to the big guy with the knife.

“you know that guy?” he asked Carlene, nodding to Bruce. Carlene sniffed and then made a show of slipping her tongue into the guy’s mouth. Bruce couldn’t help himself, he licked his lips too.

“Yeah, he’s a loser, just ignore him. Let’s go baby, I missed you” Carlene said. “Get lost Bruce. Things have changed a lot here. It ain’t the way it was. You better watch yourself” She said it as if she was doing Bruce a favour. He said nothing. Stupid bitch, she had no idea how things had changed. They left Bruce standing alone by the rotting garbage. He wanted a fight that he could win. When the thugs were out of sight, Bruce kicked one of the cans. He yelled after he did and then stalked back into the shadows on the alley way to find his prey. Bruce turned the corner and walked into the hulking mass that Carlene had been tongue wrestling with.

“Don’t fucking look at her again, asshole.” The guy growled. Before Bruce could get his bearings, the guy sucker punched him in the gut. Bruce dropped like a stone on the asphalt. He curled up into a ball and tried to protect his head, his face. Each kick from the thugs motorcycle boots sent fire like white lightning through Bruce’s body. He felt his nose break, then his ribs broke in so many places he couldn’t identify where it hurt more. Bruce passed out before they finished with him. He was beyond the point of caring whether or not he woke up.
~

A light snow had fallen overnight. It had been an unusually warm December, and it was the first snowfall that stayed. The pure white flakes blanketed the town, hiding the concrete sidewalks and asphalt streets, the garbage filled alley ways and parks. Only the trees stood bare and untouched by the new snow. Their long black wet limbs raked at the sky, unwilling to give up their place. They stood unmoved by the season while everything else remained temporarily hidden. As the sun poked its head over the horizon, the tiny flakes of ice started to melt.

A ring of pinkish snow surrounded Bruce’s body. He lay in the alley barely breathing, and unconscious. The strip club thugs had left him for dead after they took turns kicking Bruce and beating him to a bloody pulp.

“He doesn’t look so good.” a voice said.

“No man, he looks dead.” Said another voice.

“what we gonna do?” said a third. Three boys stood over Bruce. They were young, ten years old. Kevin, Craig and Corey. The three c’s. That was how everyone knew them. Corey touched Bruce’s shoulder with a stick. Bruce didn’t move and didn’t make a sound.

“Oh man Kevin, I think this guy’s dead.” He said. His voice quivered. He was not as brave as the other two. He couldn’t stand the sight of blood or the smell of dead stuff. He was glad that it was cold at least and he couldn’t smell the dude lying in the alley behind Lolly’s.

“How are we going to tell anyone where he is?” Kevin asked. He was always thinking about things like that, thinking about how not to get into trouble. “We’re not supposed to be walking back here remember?” The other boys nodded vigorously.

“Maybe he will wake up.” Craig offered. He prayed that the man would. The guy’s face was totally bashed in. Kevin shook his head solemnly.

“I don’t know man, I am sure that he won’t. He looks pretty dead to me.” He said. Kevin took the stick from Corey and poked the guy in the back. This time, Bruce moaned. It wasn’t a full moan, more like a whimper.

“Oh shit!” Kevin said and jumped back. “Come on, let’s get out of here. The dead guy’s moving.” The three boys ran down the alley and rounded the corner out of sight again. Bruce didn’t move. The wind picked up as the sun climbed higher in the sky. No one came by the strip club on Sunday morning. Not even the squirrels were interested that Bruce lay dying in the street.
~

…new assignment – write a paragraph that is the start of a novel, inspired after picking 7 books off your bookshelf and reading the titles, then writing with the title that pulls you the most – from Sandra and Deena Metzer. It was a tough one for me!

la

~

Neva rushed to catch the door of the apartment building before it swung shut and left her locked out in the street. She shivered as she shook off the slush and snow that had piled quickly onto her shoulders and hair. It was a two minute walk from the subway, but the winter was fierce this year. It was snowing furiously outside, and she was glad to not be out in it any longer. She bent down to adjust her knee-high leather boots and turned her head to look down the hallway to the elevator. The band of golden light was moving to a thin sliver.

“Shit” Neva said out loud. “Hold the door!” She called out and hurried down the tiled marble floor. Her heel s clacked and clicked, echoing against the bare walls. The elevator door continued to close, uninterrupted until the last possible moment, when a gloved hand suddenly shot out to keep it from closing completely. The door relented and slid back open with barely a whisper of protest. Neva rushed in, consumed by the gold interior light.

“Thanks” she said. She was breathless, and leaned back against the wall. Snowflakes melted against her skin. Neva touched her face absently. She glanced out into the empty hallway before the elevator door closed and then turned to see who it was that held the door for her. Her flirty smile froze on her lips, and the colour drained from her cheeks. The last thing she saw was the flash of white light, then the elevator was plunged into darkness.
~

whatever occurs – the brass lock.

Allie turned on the light, pushing the switch with one finger. The switch snapped and light erupted from the bare bulb hanging down in the center of the room. Water stained the ceiling  some time ago, leaving a mottled brown map to spread to one corner. The faded floral wallpaper peeled where the water had touched it. Piles of dust marked where the sofa once sat. Random debris from the previous owner sprawled carelessly outward. Strange, Allie thought as she stepped gingerly through the room, how the dust avoided falling outside the lines of the imaginary furniture. Tiny puffs of dust rose up as she walked to the kitchen. The wooden cupboards stood open, shelves empty. One of the doors hung precariously by one hinge over the sink. An old coffee can huddled in the corner of the top shelf. Allie made a mental note to retrieve it before she left. She continued to inspect the house, room by room. It had only been six months since Michael had died. He’d gone quickly. Everyone said it was a blessing that he did not suffer for long. Allie never understood why someone would say that in the first place. How was it a blessing to suffer at all, she often wondered.

When Allie heard the news that her brother had died, she didn’t cry, although a part of her had died with him that day. It was as though the ocean that moved inside of her suddenly dried up the moment she heard the news. He died on a Tuesday night, just after dinner time. Allie had felt it the moment he passed, not that it mattered. Michael left and Allie was left to clean up the mess. Allie started to climb the stairs to the second floor when something caught her eye. There was a strange little door that sat a few feet above the second step. The latch was worn to a shine. The key hole stared blankly back at Allie. She searched her pocket for the key ring that kept all of her brother’s keys. Allie look at them one by one, but none of the keys looked like they would fit in the tiny keyhole. She tucked the key ring back into her pocket. She turned around and looked up. There was a small lip where the wood that framed the door. Allie stood on her tip toes and reached with her fingers, searching tentatively across the top. She grunted with satisfaction. Her brother, at least, was a predictable man. She took down the little key and slid it into the lock. She turned it carefully. The well oiled lock mechanism clicked and then the door swung open easily. Allie looked in. The shelves of the little cupboard were empty. Disappointed, Allie continued to climb the stairs, leaving the door open.

The rooms on the second floor were just as bare as the first floor, except for the dust piles. Broken blinds covered the old windows. Allie wondered how her brother lived in the old house. She paused at the top of the steps again. He didn’t live, she thought, that was the problem. Allie took out her cell phone, and scrolled through her phone book. She touched the screen and held the phone up to her ear. She had a short conversation with the realtor. Allie had not found anything left behind after the movers had come in and taken what little was left of her brother’s belongings.

“Yes, tomorrow is fine. You can bring your people in to stage the house. The quicker we sell this old place, the better.” Allie said sullenly. She got the job of inspecting the house by default, Allie was the only one left who could do it. Allie and the realtor discussed some more details and then Allie put the phone back in her pocket and started down the stairs. She didn’t know the third step was broken under the carpet runner. She didn’t know until she stepped on it, and crashed into the wall. Allie bounced off the wall and into the railing. She tried desperately to grab at it to stop from falling all the way down, but she couldn’t. Allie tumbled head over heals and fell in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. She lay perfectly still, not moving in the dim light. Allie groaned finally and tried to pull herself up to sit. She rubbed her shoulder. Her head pounded. Allie touched her forehead and took her hand away to see; blood. She struggled to stand, fighting a wave of dizziness. She needed to look in the mirror to see how badly she had been hurt. Her knee buckled and Allie reached wildly for the railing again.

“Oh God” she moaned. Allie didn’t know what it was that made her look up again. Something caught her attention, cutting through the pain. The door of the little cupboard swung back and forth on its hinges. Allie saw a strange light coming through the cracks in the wood behind the shelves.

“What the hell?” Allie said. She stood up slowly and leaned against the wall of the cupboard, peering closely at the small shelves. Blood was dripping into her one eye. She pushed the back of her hand to her forehead, brushing away the growing stream. Allie pushed the middle shelf with her other hand. It gave away easily, revealing a storage space behind it. Allie realized as the wood fell away, that the light was coming from a tiny light that was hung just above the opening. It had been turned on by the opening of the second door. Tucked within the cupboard were stacks of envelopes tied in red string. Allie reached for the closest pile and pulled it out carefully. The top letter was addressed to her. Stunned, Allie reached in again and pulled out another pile and then another. Every letter was addressed to her. She didn’t recognize the handwriting. Allie’s head swam. Fighting to stay conscious, Allie braced herself against the wall and tried to pull out the last of the letters. Behind the letters were boxes. Allie wondered how much more there could be. She felt the relentless pull of darkness at her eyes, forcing her to kneel on the steps. Allie put her head down, pleading with herself. ‘Please, I need to know.” The string on the stack she was still holding suddenly broke, spilling the letters down the last steps to her feet. Allie grabbed at them frantically. She toppled once more to the base of the stairs, lost to the darkness.

unsent letter

I pressed the pen to the paper, hesitating to draw it forward to leave a black trail behind it. What should I write, knowing that the letter itself might never see the inside of an envelope, and even if it did, I wouldn’t know where to send it.

I thought of you tonight, as the snow started to fall. I listened to the soft flakes passing by me, like the fluttering eyelash of a brief greeting against my cheek. Too romantic for your liking – too poetic and lacking of substance. Perhaps. It doesn’t matter, I do not feel tonight, in this quiet solitude, that I should worry about what you might think of what I write here. There is a freedom in knowing that your eyes will never trip over the round curves of this word or the next. Do I feel brave enough to let this inner voice loose to play here, where I never could before?

The snow is still falling against the window. I paused to pull the curtain back, touching the cool window with my finger tips. Over and over in my mind, I have asked myself what I would say if I had the chance? The flakes fall and gather at the bottom of the sill. The white reminds me of the paper, sitting idle and empty, though contained within intricate patterns rest on top of one another – a deeper mystery that cannot be seen from a distance. What should I write to fill the thousand gaps and canyons between us? Not even this ache to tell you to truth allows me to write more than this.

I love you.

10 minutes

28.01.08

The sky is heavy and darkly grey this morning. Even though the rain is falling outside my window, my heart is full. The twelfth day of Christmas arrived quietly. Together we have shared the morning, each in our own way, in our time. My thoughts are like a many pointed start moving out in different directions – to you, to others, to the world. Filled with love and deep peace myself, this morning I hope that my gift has reached you.

Oh my heart, I would hold you closely for the rest of days, and protect you. I hold you closely but with open fingers, so that you may fly with the wind to where you feel you need to be, in the hope that one day you will return… one day. I cannot take on your pain, your suffering as my own – though I would if it were allowed. Instead, I share some of my soul that flow out like star bits to you, in the hope that it might carry you forward, upward, to where you need and want to be.

On this last day, my gift to you is of healing, and the peace that follows closely. Today, let there be peace. Let there be hope. Let there be love.

L.

XI

Eleven beads sit
On a string around my wrist
Each a prayer for you
~

X

All day today I have been thinking about what I would write to you. What words could I possibly put in this paper for you to read. The paper reminds with each turn of my pen, when my fingers graze its rough face, that there is a distance between us, physical, real that cannot bridged right in this moment. The distance between us otherwise is much less though, and I have only to close my eyes to feel you here with me.

Not even sunshine this afternoon is enough to quiet the search for what to say. It isn’t that there is nothing to say – no lack of sentiment, feelings, wants or desires to let you know that I am here, and thinking to you with every moment. There is much to say – too much perhaps and that is why I find myself falling back into silence.

What ten things would I tell you right now?

1.    I miss you.
2.    The sunshine isn’t as bright without you here.
3.    Your friendship is a treasure to me as is your love
4.    Whether it is under the sun, or moon or clouds I will always look up and feel comforted that we are standing together under the same sky
5.    You make me smile
6.    In the quietest moments of my day, I think to you and I feel less alone
7.    You are a touchstone to my life.
8.    In the most chaotic moments of my day, I think to you and I feel still
9.    Who I am today is because of knowing you.
10.    I love you.

However our paths wind and turn through our lives – I am blessed that your path has crossed mine. I cannot imagine you not being part of my life – it would be like the stars never knowing the moon, or the trees never knowing the wind, or the sand never knowing the sun. Thank you for all that you have given me.

L.