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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: angel wings.dots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: rosecanfly
    ASL Info:    16/F/VA
    Elite Ratio:    2.12 - 6/16/16
    Words: 276
    Class/Type: Prose/Misc
    Total Views: 835
    Average Vote:    5.0000
    Bytes: 1724



    Description:
       __fiction


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsangel wings.dots
    -------------------------------------------


    She's standing ankle-deep in a rain puddle; her jeans are rolled up, messy, hurried. It's not like it matters - everything is wet.

    It hasn't rained this hard since I was her age. Since I was small and lovely and still believed in happy endings. Since I was wise with youth. Since I was naive and pure.

    For a second I feel sick with envy, and with how much I suddenly hate her.

    She turns to look at me and she smiles.

    The feeling passes.

    She has mom's eyes - blue, not like the rest of us. Maybe that's why Dad can't look at her, even after all these years.

    "What is God?"

    (God is dead.)

    I say, there's no such thing as God.

    "Dad says there is."

    (Dad is dead.)

    I say, Dad doesn't know what he's talking about.

    She's moved from the puddle; her feet are muddy and the ground squelches as she walks across the yard. She drops into a squat, little hand reaching with blind curiosity into the bushes growing against the outer wall of the house.

    The feeling crawls back to me as she stands. Turns. Holds up her prize:

    A dandy lion.

    It's full and dry, every little white seedling still clinging tight to the center. Spared by the violence of the storm.

    She twirls the stem slowly between her fingers and then suddenly blows hard; the whiteness expands, flutters in the air.

    "This is God," she says through the flurry of white.



    That night I dream of angel wings.




    Submitted on 2009-05-20 20:41:02     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      The ONLY nitpick I have with this:

    "She turned to look at me and she smiles." IMHO should be "She turns to look at me and she smiles."

    Grammatically speaking.

    You write so well!
    | Posted on 2009-12-28 00:00:00 | by Maverique | [ Reply to This ]
      This story is beautiful, it's allegorical. "her prize"- Iliked the way you described the flower. Do you read William Blake? or Cormac McCarthy? Both writers are there somewhere in your work. Not that you have in any way plagerized, this reads totally original.

    Hope you write more like this. This was refreshing, rather than reading like some other poems/prose I've read it is capturing.

    Please write more.
    | Posted on 2009-05-25 00:00:00 | by MidnightSun89 | [ Reply to This ]


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