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Showing posts from December, 2004

Love Lost Fiction

MISTLETOE
By Queenie

I Saw You With Your Hands
1999

Tommy saw her. The snow danced in front of him, fat and plenty and heavy from the night sky; shimmering in the short glow of the streetlights. The headlights. Dim flashes of the seasons colours, blinking, muted in Tommy's background. The snow made the night awash with a cold brightness, blindly blocking views of the life around him. The Christmas shoppers and their loud packages. He could hear last minute swearing underneath breath.
But he saw her. With him. And he was trying to grab her purse. Tommy was wearing his Reeboks. And so he stopped him.

Above Your Head
2000

They were walking and almost to Tommy's car.
“You did not seem to like the show,” Tommy bit the side of his mouth and looked at her.
She looked up at him surprised, “No, I did.”
“Are you sure?” he said. “I thought about it after I had the tickets. You work down here. You probably see all these shows whenever you want.”
She laughed. He had no idea. “I have never …

Shine

He walked out of the store; his legs alive, as were his steps. The Christmas carols that had been playing inside the store, also greeted him outside; blaring from the white speakers embedded into the green overhang. Dogs barking jingle bells.
“Oh, my, what will you do with all of those?” asked the old lady in the purple coat with brass buttons. She paused; arm reaching for the pet store’s door. She smiled at him, her teeth just starting to gray. Unnatural pink lipstick. She was happy.
He smiled back at her, pausing. His arms full of cage, holding four white rabbits.
“I am working my way up to lambs,” he replied to her and smiled some more.
Her body stopped; stiffened and her face blanched, a small, rosy circle on each cheek.
He did not see the puddle as he continued walking to his car, but his socks felt the water fast, seeping through his sneakers.

He stood at the kitchen table. Silver edge. Coloured top.
The rabbits did not look nervous anymore, sitting in the large silver cage on…

Before Actually

She was determined in her eye.
"You just go on and get. Do what you got to do, Sir," she said, looking up at him; feeling the dust from the dry, empty road, as it swirled around her ankles and up into her skirt.
"Why you gonna be saying that? You want to forget my name already?"
She looked down at her arms; straight and folded hands, before she looked back up to him.
Soft. "I really should be going, too. I said to Esther-."
"What is wrong with you, Woman?" he demanded, throwing his hands to his thighs. “Dob says all is good. He is ready for me.”
"So, then, you have just gone and given-up, have you, William?"
"Aw, Helen, that place ain't opening back up; I have been telling you this," William shook his head. "Damn. You never listen."
"Oh, I listen just fine," she snapped back at him; curling in her nails, barely. Catching dust and air. The trees rustled behind her; up in her ears. She wanted to go be…

Punks-A Tuesday

Minnie was 14. She liked bright red lipstick and getting high.
The music was always playing in her room; always barely lit.

let them them leave you up in the air
let them brush your rock and roll hair

They were on the bed. Minnie laying on her side and beside her, Samantha; on her back. Lips soft. Tongues softer. They kissed. It made the breathing seem heavier; almost as loud as the music.
Minnie moved her lazy arm, laying across Samantha's nightgowned stomach and slowly slid her hand upwards.
Samantha breathed even deeper and Minnie kissed her, as her hand reached up to feel nipples hard beaneath the cloth.
Minnie moved her upper body closer to Samantha; pressing her tits to Samantha's body. Rolled Samantha's nipple in her palm.
And Samantha moaned.
Minnie lifted her whole body overtop of Samantha.
"Boys will want to," Minnie reassured her.
Still rubbing the same breast, the same way; Minnie lowered herself onto Samantha.
And she rubbed her body against hers and kissed S…

The other end of the Morning

This morning my alarm clock did not want to wake up.
Instead of beeping, it said softly, "It is cold, you should go and fix the heater."
I did not want to.
"Stop being lazy," I told it. "You should get up and take a shower."
But my alarm clock ignored me, and sat there glaring with red, tired eyes.

I pulled the covers up close around my neck.
I considered ducking my head under them, and tried it for a minute.
It felt wonderful.
I determined to stay there for hours.

Useless Writings

Today I do not have to go where I go Everyday.
It is pouring rain when my child walks in the door of his school. The sky was nasty, grey, dark.
I hid under the covers until noon.

I watch the sunlight stream through front window; five minutes after 12. I marvel the bluest of skies and puffy white clouds.
Canada has been so colourless lately.
But when I step out my door, the wind wants to knock me over and I want to run in to hide back under my covers.
But I have to pay my rent.
I write on the bus for the first time in a long time.
Lately, I have been having to read, instead.

"Would you like to do your banking online?" the bank teller says, too grandly. I wait for him to sweep his arm in an arc. He grins, and waits for my answer.
I grin back. "No."
"I can get you a password, right now!"
"No, that's okay. I would forget it."
He taps my cable bill.
"It might make you remember other things,' he cocks an eyebrow at me.
I raise my ey…