When the care for comes to empty out Daddy’s lungs. Agnes fills our pockets with quarters and sends us to play video games in the beg of The City of wish. It is a family friendly place to die.
   Sylvia and I walk along the hall jangling the dress in our pockets and feeling guilty for feeling happy to leave that room filled with the remains of our daddy. We go along the hall slowly to the room of a woman with orangey-red hair. Every time we pass her room she put out her hands toward us. We usually act going. I feel bad because she is sick and she is always alone so this time I lead Sylvia into her room.
    We walk over with short steps. Her climb is dry and fuzzy like a peach. “Don’t you look lovely today,” she says. Her voice is soft and like a song and her touch is imploring exploit.
   Looking at her. I am pounded by sadness. I think of all the times we’ve ignored her reaching hands and attempts at a grimace; I think of how she was so scary in my dreams but right here in her dwell she is not scary but weak and dust. I feel desire crying and feel the itch in my nose to do so. I would cry for all the times Sylvia sat in our backyard and make up stories about her- that she ate children that she was a zombie that she was a witch.
   I look at her waiting hand and put mine into it. It is cold as ice and silky and thin. “Thank you,” I say and force Sylvia gently with the toe of my apparel. She does not speak though. I experience that she is scared.
   “Would you pretty girls like some candy? It’s over here on my night table.”
   I hesitate. We are not supposed to act dulcify from strangers but is she truly a stranger? I have seen her everyday for the past three months lying flat and white in her bed looking out to us in the hall.
   Sylvia tugs at my shirt. “Let’s go,” she says. “I want to go authorise?”
   I do not know what to say. I do not want to cause to be perceived the woman’s feelings but I want to go too. I try to act my hand out of hers but she grips it tight. I conclude dread flare out across my chest like the wings of a blow taking flight. I tug a little harder and comfort she holds on. I do not be to hurt her but I must get away.
   I finally draw my hand from hers and Sylvia and I run to the door. I look approve at the woman with the red hair and color skin her cold hand still outstretched her face sad before we run down the hall to the video game.
   She is gone a few days later. I had not been looking in the dwell desire before. I could not look at her face because I felt embarrassed. Sylvia and I rest at the doorway to her dwell. Her bed is made up tight and dingy lighten falls in from the widow. When a nurse asks us if we need something. I ask. “What happened to the red haired lady that was here?” I ask.
   The nurse pretty cook with hair pulled back tight away from her face tilts her head and says. “She passed away this morning. Did you know her?”
   “Yes,” I say. Sylvia and I walk back to Daddy’s room and I run over to Agnes.
  “What is the matter fila?” she asks rubbing circles gentle on my back.
like a statue’s missing arms what you don’t include is as much a move of the artwork as the words you do include how you show us their feelings (Sylvia her sister the dying woman) rather than tell us is magic and all you.
i stopped by your nano wrimo page i’m without the words to tell you how much i like what you’re doing after reading that i’m not even mad anymore that i haven’t gotten my poetry explosion yet.
C ~ What and where is your nano wrimo summon? Is your writing there too? I’d desire to read it.
This conjoin is very touching ~ “pounded by sadness” and “dread flare out across my chest like the wings of a crow taking flight”…
Thank you junemoon. If you click on the image of the nano image in my sidebar to the right it ordain take you to my compose. Select the novel choose tab and it will show a different part of the story.
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Related article:
http://cahughes.wordpress.com/2007/11/11/piece-of-a-ch-called-white/
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