The Beating...

The speeding feet in the pounding rain. The perpetual beat of a heart. Pounding blood. There is a cave in my heart.
Stepping out of the rain, into the shadows, the noise transitions from the wash of the cloudburst to the flow of your anxious blood. Then to the pounding of your heart. It's so loud. Terrifying, yet trusted.
The roar is overwhelmed by the beating. The beating of dark membranes. You have disturbed them. You are enveloped by their plethora of leather-silk wings.
Neither bird nor beast, the ostracized. Bats. After they have settled, you see the moonlight reflected in two tapetums. The truth in those eyes, is it familiar to you? Or should you be frightened? How many lives has this creature lived?
Come in, friend. Step closer, enemy. You were washed by the rain, rinsed by the darkness, dried by the wings, and clothed. By a purpose.
Am I a panther? Am I the dusk?

THE PLAN for Labels

CHARACTERS are influential people in my tales.
BROWN is tales from a span of ages.
WHITE is tales from age 0-7.
RED is tales from age 8-14.
ORANGE is tales from age 14-21.
YELLOW is tales from age 22-28.
GREEN is tales from age 29-35.
BLUE is tales from age 36-42.
INDIGO is tales from age 43-49.
PURPLE is tales from age 50-56.
BLACK is tales from age 57-63.
Grey is an insight into how these tales may be affecting me.

Labels

Friday, July 4, 2008

Fast Driver

McCoy's father, before opening a couple restaurants in SoCal, was a detective for San Bernardino County. In Arizona, McCoy never ceased to find amusement in seeing his retired dad get out of countless speeding tickets, traveling between his homes in Arizona and California. He'd flash his old badge and use the same excuse every time: "It's tough getting out of the habit. I used to have to speed all over this county. Sorry, officer! Thank you for your concern. You're doing a fine job!"

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