Daily photographic musings
The camera is an instrument that teaches people
how to see without a camera. —Dorothea Lange
Scattered Words: Poems for Jernee Timid Loadholt is available now! Have you gotten your copy? Hardcover|eBook
Life in Photos #8
Tag: Family
Ivy Tower
Flash Fiction: A Wayne Donald and Kinley Chris Adventure
“Wayne Donald! Get out here! We needa clear somma this ivy!”
Kinley Chris shouts up toward the huge window of their grandmother’s home. Wayne Donald is in their bedroom watching Gremlins, avoiding all Saturday chores. She huffs, kicks her feet up from the bed, jumps down from the top bunk, and lands with a vicious thud over their grandmother’s art room.
Kinley is standing outside in front of their grandmother’s home, under the first window. She is dressed in a medium Uline Deluxe Coverall, ski mask, gardening gloves, and goggles for protection. She is holding a mini rake in one hand and a standard rake in the other.
“Kinley Chris, why we gotta do this? Why we can’t wait ’til Uncle Henry gets here to clear this ivy? I hate it. It makes my stomach turn.” The younger sister whines and tries to plead her case, but Kinely Chris stands firm on what needs to get done as a part of their Saturday chores.
“Every Saturday you moan’n groan, like I wanna hear it. I don’t. Uncle Henry won’t be over here ’til later on this evening for dinner, and by that time, he ain’t gon’ wanna do nothin’ but plop down and fill his belly with steak, potatoes, and gravy. So… please go get your gear on and get back out here so we can do what we need to do.”
Wayne Donald stirs up a fuss with her feet as she rattles the leaves awake beneath them. She races upstairs to gather her gear, puts it all on in haste, and rushes back outside to help her big sister.
“Get yo rakes and make sure your goggles are on good. We don’t need you rashin’ up ’round the eyes like you did two weeks ago. I got a swift slap to my cheek from grandma for not checkin’ on ya before we started, and I ain’t aimin’ for that to happen today.” Wayne Donald straightens up her goggles and pulls her ski mask down to meet the edges.
“And if you do a good job today, I’ve got some gummy bears with yo name on’em.”
Wayne Donald looks over at Kinley, shakes her head happily, and gets to work.
A rare shout from up above meets the girls’ ears. It’s their grandmother giving precise orders for the proper trimming of the ivy.
“Girls, I likes them red leaves… how they’re comin’ in beautifully. Keep as many of them as you can, leave some green leaves to mingle with it, and trim from the top to the bottom. Y’all got your hedge clippers out there?”
The girls look up, both surprised to hear from their grandmother at this time of day. Typically, she’s asleep until noon, it’s only 09:30 AM. Kinley is the first to respond, then Wayne Donald.
“Sure thing, Grandma. We’ll get it right.”
“Okay, Grandma, will do!”
The sun rose higher to greet the two of them just as they were making headway under the third window. With seven more windows to go, the girls know they will not finish the task today, but at least most of the trimming and clearing of the ivy will be done for next Saturday.
“Whew! Five windows down, five more to go. It’s time for lunch, Wayne Donald. We can end here and finish up next Saturday. I think I smell Grandma’s fried spam and eggs, and I sure do want a belly full of that on some buttered toast.”
“Lawd, I do too, Kinley Chris! I been waitin’ for you to say we can stop since we started. Let’s get inside!”
What will the two of them get into next?
Part I, Part II, and Part III.
This piece is my offering for this week’s Melissa’s Fandango Flash Fiction Challenge, #349. I love these two sisters. They remind me of my friend, E’s two youngest girls. When the series is complete, I will share it with her. I am long overdue for a trip up to the mountains of Western North Carolina to visit all of them, and I am looking forward to it at the beginning of next year.
Wayne Donald
Flash Fiction: Melissa’s Fandango Flash Fiction Challenge
“Where the hell is Wayne Donald?!”
Kinley Chris yells from across the salty shore. Her younger sister shot like lightning from their grandmother’s front porch to the mouth of the beach when she heard the fireworks.
To try and coax her home, Kinley runs at full speed with a bag of gummy bears dangling from her back pocket–her sister’s favorite snack.
“Wayne Donald! Wayne Donald! I’ve got your favorite snack! Come on out here. I ain’t got all day!”
The girls are the two most oddly named children at their school–in their neighborhood. Wayne Donald, the youngest, at age 7, is a blonde-haired, green-eyed turbo train of unbridled anxiety. Kinley Chris, 13, is cinnamon sunshine with a pinch of “Don’t waste my time”, and their personalities speak before they do.
Plainly put, they don’t need an introduction.
The girls’ grandmother sits in her art room, rocking back and forth to the sound of the island’s fireworks.
No one is allowed in this room, not even her husband (not the girls’ biological grandfather). The room is both peaceful and creepy. It’s a vibrant green with a cream and gold ceiling, and has Art Deco-like furniture. It smells like a scene from a Foghorn Leghorn cartoon married to last night’s dinner. The girls gladly stay out of it.
“Wayne Donald! Wayne!!! Girl, where are you?! It’s getting dark, and I’m cold as the teats on a mama polar bear!”
On the pier, directly behind the viewers, Wayne Donald appears. She is wearing a snaggletoothed smile and sea-soaked clothes.
“I’m right here, Kinley Chris! If I was a snake, woulda bit ya!”
The little girl races to her older sister, slaps five with her, and snatches the gummy bears from her back pocket.
“If that was all I had to do to get these here gummy bears outta ya, Kinley, I woulda did it long ago.”
She leans into the tight embrace of her big sister, and they plop their tired bodies on the muddied sand.
“If all you wanted was some candy, Wayne Donald, all you had to do was ask.”
The girls’ grandmother lifts the window in the art room and calls them home. Her wretched voice echoes along the beach. They race each other back to the long-winding porch and float through the front door.
Tomorrow’s adventures await.
This piece is my offering for this week’s Melissa’s Fandango Flash Fiction Challenge. The name, “Wayne Donald,” came to me first, then the image of the little girls, and the story wrote itself from there. I love these challenges, and I am grateful for them as kickstarters for buried creativity.
Flying Time
Rapid Rhyme #1
He’s eight now,
Time flies, wow!
Can’t keep my emotions intact
The little ones are growing so fast
I remember diaper-changing days,
Now that period has flown away.
I watch as he sprouts to the sky,
His beauty and loving heart soaring high.
Could it be just another year,
One destined to leave me in tears,
Or is it a momentous occasion,
A turn of time with persuasion,
And a final blow to my chest, OUCH!
Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-Book and Paperback) yet?
I recently signed up to write on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing as I speak about the most recent events with a previous place of employment, as it pertains to racism and discrimination, growth from the transition after resigning from that company, and life’s foibles and overall experiences. I welcome your visit.
Poem for an Image
#8: Playing Catch-up
caring for my dying love made
my pockets thinner than
before–I missed Jaidy’s birthday.
it’s a blow to my pride to
not be able to shower my girl
with gifts on the day she was gifted to us.
making up for it at the same
time Caison’s 8th approaches
will push my heart to higher heights.
she knows where I stand.
she remembers every offering of
love she has ever received from me.
now that there isn’t a mouth
begging for money I can’t get
from trees, the babies shine brighter.
I’m playing catch-up, and I
am not ashamed to admit why I
couldn’t give what I wanted to.
I am not ashamed because life
happened upon me in a way
I never thought it would.
Death costs an arm and a leg,
and after you’ve run out of those limbs,
there aren’t many more to give.
Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-Book and Paperback) yet?
I recently signed up to write on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing as I speak about the most recent events with a previous place of employment, as it pertains to racism and discrimination, growth from the transition after resigning from that company, and life’s foibles and overall experiences. I welcome your visit.
pigeonholed & sidereal
Two poems shared on Substack notes
pigeonholed
I never wanted to be
pigeonholed into a
category ill-fitting for
what and how I write.
I don’t know where I
should be or why, but
I do know I can write
whatever I am
assigned. I always
have been able to
create and build
characters out of
thin air.
Poetry is my salve.
Fiction is sustenance.
Nonfiction is time
delegating a few
memories to those
willing to consume.
I am a bustling soul
linked to ancestors
who told stories
about lifestyles and
enslavement.
I am my great-grandmother’s
twin; I have her eyes,
her lips, her walk,
and her mannerisms;
I’m the walking dead.
sidereal
she is out of this
world–a sidereal
creature crafted by
the best God I’ve
ever known.
a crush I’ve crushed
on, and probably will
until time leaves me
breathless. we hang
on every word that
pours from our lips.
I’ve become
complacent in the
knowing of her
presence–she’s
steadfast in being
here, and the
moment I shift my
presence, she glues
herself to everything
I’m connected to.
I would typically
leave, a ghost with
nothing to lose, but
she has galaxies for
eyes, and I am
forever cursed by
her.
I’m stone, unable to
be chiseled, unable
to break.
and secretly, she
loves it.
Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-Book and Paperback) yet?
I recently signed up to write on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing as I speak about the most recent events with my place of employment, as it pertains to racism and discrimination. I welcome your visit.
A Cornered Gurl 
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