You can read more about Tia and her creations on her blog, The Briefly Beautiful.
Inspiration #30 - Haunted
13 kinds of ghost
A collection of haunted hint fiction
{hint fiction - “a story of 25 words or fewer that suggests a larger, more complex story.” (Robert Swartwood)}
Untitled
She watched the execution dry-eyed, one hand to her stomach.
Feels No Cold
Laughter echoed through each room of the house. He prayed none of it would make it into his boxes.
Bell’Italia
She still remembers the text message. “I am sorry I cannot meet you forever. I am sorry I have to cheat you. -Alessio”
Untitled (2 Years Later)
Charlie flicked dirt to cover her droppings. She sniffed that hard white thing before her. It looked like what the dog chewed, only much smaller.
Her Eyes
Hollowed-out, a pale blue that seemed to suggest an ocean behind the irises. They search their surroundings wildly, seeking something unspeakable.
Speak to Me
Anne, where are you? I can’t see anything, but I hear something. I think it’s breathing.
Motel
The leftover rain made drippity sounds. They lulled her and the children to sleep, the 3 in one bed together.
‘S how they were found.
Lest Ye Become
Barnes was certain that was his own face staring at him, reflected in the dark pool of blood on the street.
Salem
The wind sounded like a scream and brought smells of burning. Celia watched her little ones play dolly. She failed to see the needle.
Touch
The mirror was cool under her hand at first. The warmth came in the instant before the fingers closed around hers through the glass.
Imaginary Friend
It wasn’t Bella, it was the naughty one. Mommy didn’t understand. Bella tried to mind her beeswax, but the naughty one hated the new baby.
Checking In
Your seat has been prepared in advance, sir. Yes, we knew you’d be along eventually. Now come, join us.
Always and Forever
Smell and warmth in the bed, even on the coldest nights. Ease and happiness in the glow of the bedroom that seems to permeate the darkness until morning, she smiles.
Inspiration #28 - Seeing Red
"Seeing Red"
A Short Play
THE BOY CARUSCO sits on the floor and paints a huge piece of paper with his fingers and hands. HIS MOTHER enters.
MOTHER(Wearing an apron.) Bambino! Che bella! What is it you make? (He holds up his hands.) Ah! Look at you, red-handed! (She laughs and moves to fetch a towel. Carusco is left examining his hands, confused.)
* * *
CARUSCO, a man of twenty, sits on the floor and paints a huge piece of paper with his fingers and hands. HIS LOVER enters.
LOVER(Wearing an apron. Only.) Is this how you always work, amore?
CARUSCO(Holding up his hands) What do you see?
LOVERI see you.
CARUSCO(Pulling her down to him. She giggles; he leaves red handprints on the apron, on her torso) This. Here. Here. There. (Indicates the handprints, gently.) What?
LOVERMe.
CARUSCOColor.
LOVERRed.
CARUSCOWhich is-?
LOVERWhich is…you. Me. Fire. (She is close to him, teasing.) Last night. This morning. This afternoon again. Redredred. (She kisses his nose. He begins to cover her in paint.)
* * *
CARUSCO, a man of fifty, sits on the floor and paints a huge piece of paper with his fingers and hands. He is clearly painting the body of a woman, made of red handprints.
* * *
CARUSCO, a man of eighty, sits in a chair by a window. He holds a swath of red fabric, passing it from hand to hand, running it through his fingers.
CARUSCOI… I could never see… but I could feel… I still feel. Red. I feel it like no other. I know it in my fingers. (He runs the fabric through the fingers of his left hand and lets it fall to the ground. HIS MOTHER enters. HIS LOVER enters. He does not see them. They pick up the fabric together and drape it around his shoulders. They exit. Carusco pulls the fabric tighter around him, until there is no Carusco. There is only red.)
* * *
Inspiration #27 - Perfect Timing
"Perfect Timing"
Inspiration #26 - Brushstrokes
"Hairport: Matt & His Hair at the Airport"
No comments:
Post a Comment