Fiction

In the village, the sun was always tucked dutifully underneath sheets of clouds, and the wind was always brisk and energetic, and the people of the village were always horribly regimented.

Joad sat watching Abe jump over and over again. The silly little dog found this activity captivating as it was annoying.

Set on a lone countryside, the sun shines brightly.

A little toddler, in too-big garden gloves and dirtied overalls holds out a sapling. She kneels down and sets the sapling down …

Two years later

I woke up in the dark, but I was dreaming. Memories of salt and scales. Turbulent clouds and cloying air that choked me. I searched for the ocean rhythm and found only a syncopated beat interrupted by static.

The house was empty without her. The kitchen was robbed of laughter. Our room had stolen comfort. Nothing was the same. She was my everything.

When Johnny first put that seed in the ground, when he first covered it with soil and gave it water, he had no idea how big it would become.

The child runs and runs through the suffocating night, looking for a place to hide, anywhere, just somewhere safe. There were two others with this child, but they were all taken. The child crouches in a small abandoned shack, shaking.

Note: This is an excerpt of a play I may or may not write to the fullest. It's just to get a grasp of what the play would look like, so you might see more of it. Or you might not. Enjoy anyway!

A penny from a young girl with pigtails and a toothy grin, a dime from a poet in a baseball cap, and a quarter from an elderly lady on her morning stroll.

like shifting shadows moving across walls and space

I constantly reflect everything and everyone

daydreamers like to envision a new world

one where every cog in the machine does its job

we get tired of being the mirror

Every Monday,

After school,

Papa brings all of us;

Hazel

Lila

Rowan

Baby Arlo (who’s actually three by now)

And me

Chapter 6: Josh