Archive for the 'Creative Writing' Category

Jul 12 2008

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sarah flanigan

I Believing Was Good

I liked believing
that you were real
Just for that flash
of lightning moment
That immeasurable
fraction of un-time
and fathomless space

Because seeing
those eyes and
the dancing soul
behind them
was worth
the lie

Feeling that
dizzy sparkle
alive and surging
brighter than
all the suns
I ever knew
was worth
the lie

Sharing the
secret that pulsed
between us
and made our
footprints one depth
upon the universe
was worth
the lie

Lie
to
me
again

copyright 2008

2 responses so far

May 28 2008

Profile Image of sarah flanigan
sarah flanigan

Sense of Small

A sense of small
tumbles over me
and pulls the greatness
into the ebony
of past and present
and I wonder
at the color of
the moon and
the secret of her
smile
I ponder the silence
of the noise that
flips and flaps
at reluctant ears
I question the wisdom
of grander souls
and hush in
their presence
waiting for the lesson

copyright 2008

7 responses so far

May 18 2008

Profile Image of sarah flanigan
sarah flanigan

A Many Splendid Thing…

Now, for something different….My dear friend Anonymum has started a sequel to her world-wide hit Splendid. So popular was this story that the public simply demanded we revisit the series with a new and wild set of characters. The challenge is that each contributing writer adds 6 lines to ongoing story that she has started.

Here is the story so far with A-mum kicking off, and a paragraph each by Lightening, Javaqueen, Evyl, Anja, Jayne, Bettina, Hilary and my addition to this ongoing saga is the last paragraph shown in italics.

~

The sun was orange as it set against the ocean.

As Natalie walked along the beach, she felt the sting of tears as they sprung to her eyes. How could he do this to her? What would she do now?

She had invested 12 years of her life into their marriage, thinking they were happy, only to have him say he was leaving. Her question of why had been left unanswered. There was no explanation or reasons. He had merely looked at her sadly and walked out the door without so much as a backward glance…

The sand felt cool against her hot face as her legs buckled and she surrendered her weary body to the comfort of the course sand. She curled up into a foetal position, her mind willing her body to simply evaporate. The darkness enveloping her was barely recognisable against the darkness that enveloped her heart. A darkness that had been slowly creeping in over the past decade. Somewhere in the distance, a baby cried…. a cry that tortured her heart with memories of a dim and distant past……

Alone in the sand Natalie couldn’t stop thinking what if. What if she had been able to have a child? If she could have given him that, would she be in this situation now? At one time they had been so happy. She had foolishly thought that they could make it work by just loving each other. Natalie had told him from the start that she might not be able to have children. Back then he just looked in her eyes and said the only thing that mattered is that they had each other. Why had she believed him? Now, after twelve years of marriage she was all alone. They had tried for so many years to have a baby, but they never could. She had been through seven miscarriages and had given up hope. Now her husband had left her. She felt empty inside. If only he had known . . .

It was all a lie. No that wasn’t quite right. There was nothing false about the love at least not for Natalie. Yet the long nights lieing against Brad after the loving exchange of heated passion, whispering softly of the hopes and dreams of the sweet pitter-patter of small feet treading through the carpeted halls of a loving home. The faked miscarriages were not something that Natalie was proud of but it had been her last resort at maintaining a thin veneer over the stained lies that haunted their relationship. For though in her heart, soul, and mind, Natalie was one hundred percent woman, Natalie was born Ned. Yet, how could she have told Brad the truth. For Ned and Brad had been best friends in grade school. Playing catch at the ball park, racing bicycles down the quiet suburban streets, camping in the backyard until that fateful day, when everything changed….

Natalie stared at her perfect breasts in the mirror. That surgeon was worth his weight in gold. She was every man’s dream - beautiful, successful, able to strip an engine faster than any man, but she was missing that one thing - a uterus. Natalie thought she had given Brad everything he wanted. She knew what men wanted in bed; she knew that men liked hot sex, cold beer and sport on the tube. Who was better to know what a man wanted than someone who had spent half of their life as a man, and her husband’s best friend. Life was wonderful until that barbecue with the new neighbours. Curse that little baby with her gummy grin and corn flower blue eyes. Natalie knew their lives would hit a road block when Brad said “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we had one of our own?” Natalie could do everything for a man, be everything for a man, apart from one thing… a mother….

Natalie knew there was one last trump card to play, although it was going to be a doozy -she would go back to her surgeon and discuss Changing Wombs. She decided that, after all these years trying to be the perfect woman for Brad, she’d like to experience that female condition with the roller coaster hormones, strange food cravings, sleep deprivation, painful boobs, constant toilet stops and be able to scare the bejebus out of other mums at Playgroup with her own horror birth story. Her surgeon had offered the optional plumbing in his original surgical assessment but Natalie had dismissed it, not considering for a minute that the sport-lovin’ Brad she had her eyes on would succumb to natures tug on his goolies. Having kept several bucket loads of Brad’s love juice on ice at a private storage facility proved the post-op turkey basting would not be a problem and could be a great surprise with which to win Brad back to her side. Natalie made her appointment, booked her ticket and was soon winging her way to motherhood.

Natalie slept for all of that long plane trip, exhausted from the emotions that had ravaged her mind, body and soul. She dreamed of what was to come, the look of surprise on Brad’s face when he saw her swollen with his child, of her triumphant return to his heart and his bed. During the taxi ride from the airport she let her mind wander to their future, longing for the look of wonder and awe as Brad looked upon her with their newborn child for the first time an event that would link them for eternity. She could never had prepared herself though for what was to happen as she entered her surgeon’s office. The sight of Brad sitting in the waiting room looking so pitifully embarrassed to be there, hunched over in his chair holding a magazine high in front of his face set her emotions whirling. His clumsy attempts to disguise himself with that stupid floppy hat and large dark sunglasses, may have fooled some, but not her, not when she had known and loved every contour of his face and tall muscular frame so well for so long. Natalie’s heart lurched as she quickly darted back into the foyer a million questions racing through her mind - What on earth was he doing sitting in the waiting room of the most highly respected transgender specialist in the country and how could she find out without him knowing that she had seen him there?

She was hovering in the foyer in a lather of indecision when the receptionist’s voice broke into her ruminations, ‘Mr Fothergill, the doctor will see you now.’ Before she knew what she was doing, in three strides and a dive she had caught Brad by the ankles as he approached the consulting room door and brought him down in a tackle that would have brought a smile to the face of their Under 10s rugby coach.

‘Brad! NO!’ she cried, desperate tears spilling onto her cheeks, ‘We’re running out of penises!’

‘ . . . eenises . . . eenises . . .’ echoed the enthralled silence in the room. She surveyed her slack-jawed waiting-room audience, surreptitiously adjusting her skirt with her free hand.

‘What?’ she blustered in confusion. ‘What would you do if your husband’s balls were at stake?’ But a fidgetting in the stalls suggested she was already losing them. A magazine page shuffled. At the reception desk a computer mouse clicked.

‘Balls at stake? Meh,’ seemed to be the view in the waiting room of the most highly respected transgender specialist in the country…

A small girl, dressed in a pink pinafore stepped forward,- a naughty smile tugging at the sides of her mouth. “Tick-tock, you lost your cock, but all’s not lost, cuz I’ve been tossed, from the sperm of Brad, so don’t be sad.” She smiled broadly and did a little curtsey. “Hello Mummy and Daddy. It’s me, your long-lost, Maddie.” Before Brad or Natalie could utter a word, the Doctor stepped from his office and said, “So, how do you like her, I’d say she’s the spitting…”

The remaining authors to contribute are:

Cris

Red

Gemisht

Annie

~m

Cowgal

I’m tagging Cris to add her twist.


6 responses so far

May 10 2008

Profile Image of sarah flanigan
sarah flanigan

Where I’m From

(My friend, Red, did this and it’s a wonderful exercise. It is based on the poem by George Ella Lyons and is explained here. I highly recommend trying it. Sarah )

I am from fresh, white sneakers, from cold coca-cola and jiffy pop
I am from the small town with perfect lawns
and friendly gossips.
I am from the royal oak trees, pink, fragrant roses and soft blue sky,
the lazy clouds that hang low and become faces, dogs and wizards
I am from Irish tempers, quick and hot and belly laughs that wet your pants
from Patsy and Lucky and cantankerous Lottie
I am from blue collars and steelmen with strong, dirty hands and hearty appetites for food and cold beer
From an answer for everything and being just like your father
I am from altars, incense, holy water and jaunty Sunday hats.
From parables repeated by brides of Christ and
from hushed prayers that rattle beads
I am from the green hills and heather teeming with faeries and leprechauns, potato salad, hotdogs and hamburgers
From the motorcycle man who syphoned gas from trackers
the roller rink darling who lied about her age
the brother who died too young and too alone
I am from boxes in the attic that sealed in the smiles
and forced poses
The faded black and whites glued to table tops
the grainy grins that fight the years
Early bedtimes and late night ice cream cones
lake side vacations and car trips
lazy summer days eating red, ripe tomatoes that dripped down our chins and faces
from public fireworks and sweet watermelons
and images never lost, buried deep inside.

copyright 2008

7 responses so far

May 09 2008

Profile Image of sarah flanigan
sarah flanigan

Morning Rings

Mystery morning rings
makes leary curiosity
scowl at phones and doors

My fog has not yet lifted
my thoughts still tangled and
captive in a messy heap
of yes, no, maybe…

The Java God has not
blessed my logic straight
My mutterings worse
than the neighbor dog
roused by unnamed demons
sniffing outside the fence

What poppinjay suffers
the audacity of
new dawn celebrations
biting into virginal doughnuts
and chattering hyms
to yet another day?

copyright 2008

No responses yet

May 01 2008

Profile Image of sarah flanigan
sarah flanigan

Where You Belong

When you’re sure you can’t continue
take but one more step
When your hope has all but vanquished
give it air to breathe
and it will shine a little longer

When your doubts plague your weary mind
get lost in sweet memories
for doubt cannot live and flourish there

If your hands weren’t meant for healing
God would not have given them
Your heart lives in the world of good
This is where you belong

copyright 2008

(for another girl named Sarah)

7 responses so far

Apr 16 2008

Profile Image of sarah flanigan
sarah flanigan

Morning Walk

My mind wanders
and triple axels
through the cacaphony
of color and sun
heat and breeze
freet crunch
eyes roam
blue sky
comforts

copyright 2008

No responses yet

Mar 17 2008

Profile Image of sarah flanigan
sarah flanigan

Eire

Irish smiling eyes

dancing faeries in the mist

my heart belongs there.

copyright 2008

No responses yet

Feb 27 2008

Profile Image of sarah flanigan
sarah flanigan

Scary

anticipation

shudders my soul to pieces

my self-employment

copyright 2008

No responses yet

Jan 20 2008

Profile Image of sarah flanigan
sarah flanigan

Because

It was a good day

because I wrote

Because ideas clung

to the paper.

The ink sunk in deep -

permanently.

I offer my world

to your focus.

And I leave it

as a fingerprint

of my spirit.

copyright 2007

No responses yet

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