AlexRider-00Nothing

    She had the beauty of a wild flower, delicate and rugged all at once. Tan, from working in the sun; toned from carrying babies on her hip. She was private, keeping mostly to herself and speaking mostly when spoken too. She did her work thoroughly and steadily, her hands knowing what to do on their own.    He didn't know her too well, just in passing, or from saying hello but he'd heard some of the others talking and from what they said she had just recently filed divorce and was working so she could keep the apartment.  And looking closer he could see the worry that laced her vibrant hazel eyes. The callouses on her knuckles, and the wa

THE HOMELESS MAN Well, actually, he wasn't But he'd found some old cardboard And a black marker Stood on a street corner Held up his sign With fingers white from the cold Step off the curb and walk away? Not even if he wanted to "I have a wife, 3 mouths to feed I'm out of a job" Can't find a new one, was the implicatoin His face was a landscape of mountain peaks and black valleys His eyes so sunken in his face Black and in pain So thin, so cold There's not supposed to be hunger Like this in Maine Maybe he's after drugs Maybe he's playing on sympathy But desperation so strong Maybe Says I have a baby

He came back home, sick, though not physically. He was, physically ill, but that was short term, and in America he quickly grew better, though his mind stayed sick. He wasn't mentally ill, but he was sick in that his mind was not well. It was not well in the fact that it spent more time in Vietnam than the present, where he was.     In America     He spent hours standing by the oak tree, or by the window, enjoying the sun on his face without the heat of Vietnam. He rarely spoke, or made any noise at all.     Well intending neighbors had come to his still young wife and told her th

 I didn't know the first thing to expect. but that was how my life went – choose carefully and guess at what might come next, then play off that. This was no high-end nursing home. it had plastic sidings and a poorly concealed cement foundation. the carpets inside where dirty, green, flat. The wall paper was out dated, the walls off-white, offices hiding behind shades. a nurses' station was just four counters set up in a square with chairs and files inside it. Heating was so-so, but it was warm enough for nurses and their aids to walk around without sweaters. Especially since they were moving, most of the time. they took my handcuffs o

Beau sat down at the piano, the bench creaking under his weight. He started playing the piece he'd written most recently, though he was still refining some parts. Beau had gotten up earlier then everyone that Saturday, as he had been doing for the past few months, put the coffee on and sat down to play. When Haiden came down the stairs, having woken to the rolling and plinking – like rain on a cement pad – of the  piano, he stood at the bottom step and watched his brother play. Beau's eyes were closed and his head was tilted to one side, as if he was listening to the melody, to every piece, every part of what he was playing. His sho

This story is completely my sister's! I hope you enjoy! A girl walks, delicately balancing on a mere rope, a cord, the only connection between two points. Swaying, she moves one foot, then the other, her toes caressing the cable. She holds a slender pole, holding her stability in her hands. From up above, high up, near the roof of the circus tent, looking back down, the view is beautiful. Perfect symmetry, there is perfect symmetry in the circles of the circus' rings, the taut tent ropes in contrast to the trapeze swings, hanging lazily, waiting for the acrobats. The empty dusty seats of the stands echo the sounds of the night before; the s