~Frayed Quilt by FranIAm~

Harold never meant it to get this bad. He didn't mean to kill anyone.

When he thought of returning to the place where he was from, he thought of green hills, trees, fresh air. He thought of food that tasted fresh and clear. The snap of the pea pod, like a small firecracker. The color of the tomato like a red badge of courage.

Harold thought of his mama and his papa; of his sister Nancy. The life they led in the country. It was as if they were in a cocoon and that cocoon provided all they needed.

The warmth of love felt there was beyond words. The fraying edge of the quilt made by his grandmother like a feather rustling against his nose. The sag in the bed, like the valleys in which he hiked, only smaller and more comforting.

Knowing that once he walked in the door, no matter how tattered the house, he was safe.

And the house was tattered. The windows, even closed, allowed a breeze at all times. The stairs creaked as if to say "stop walking on me, I am tired." The furniture threadbare, hard to sit on.

Nancy lived there now with her man George. She never escaped. Harold went to college, went to the city. Shed his old life like a snake sheds its skin.

Not so for his sister. George was cruel man; Harold couldn't quite sort out why Nancy... Nevermind, it wasn't his business, he thought.

Pushing thoughts away, like he would push the ragged curtain that acted as a door to his childhood room. Enter. Exit.

When he returned and saw what George had done, Harold entered into a place he had never been.

Darkness closed his heart like a great coal-covered hand clasping his chest. In his mind, images of warmth and comfort dissolved in the flood of black ink that some might call rage.

When he took the torch to it, he had no idea. Nancy was inside.

***Very nice, Fran. Again, what a wonderful collection. Please read this, then continue to the comments.***

~Untitled 15 by Fran~

The train lazily wound its way up mountain passes. The air was clear - almost shimmering. The sky was a blue that one associated with renaissance madonnas, but that reminded me of the color of the rarer form of cotton candy.

For hours, we slowly made our way. I was exhausted beyond belief. Days of walking and wandering in the high altitudes of the Andes left me breathless and tired, both physically and emotionally.

On the train I would doze off, only to be disturbed by a well intended but annoying waitress. Did I want more coffee? Water? Some food?

No. All I wanted was healing. Consolation. Peace.

Two days earlier, when I was in no position to go home, I saw on TV that the levees broke.

My city, my home- gone.

I could only do this one thing and carry on.

***A similar moment shared by many. Nice snapshot.***

Flasher Bio: Fran

Fran is about to shed the skin of her long executroid career and strike out on her own. She is almost 50, just got married to her college love after a long interlude. (I have a lot of that going on!)

She is about to leave the NYC area and move to Albany NY to be with her husband and 11 year old step daughter.

Fran has done many things over the years including travel to destinations such as Europe both East and West, Israel, Jordan, Hong Kong, Peru, Bolivia, Mexico, Canada and 37 out of 50 states.

She has managed to not write a word other than in her personal journal for most of her life. Now she can't stop.

***Management Note: Please visit her amazing blog.***

~Untitled 12 by Fran~

The wigheads were so pretty to Walter. He loved to gaze upon them, to consume their rigid beauty with his eyes.

For a long time, since mother died, Walter lived alone. Working at the factory, cleaning the floors and toilets for more years than he could fix upon in his addled brain.

When it all started he was young and shy. Walter was a bit like a flower that would bud, but never open. Then the rotting comes, guaranteeing no bloom.

Mother grew ill in his second year of college. Oh he was shy, never good with women. In his head he had many lovers. And he treated them with respect! Not at all like the other fellows. They had cars and money. They had confidence. They were unkind though, disrespectful. Walter could just tell.

Mother got ill, Walter came home, one year turned to ten years, ten suddenly became thirty years.

Why couldn't Walter remember why he bought the first wig?

*** This is creepy, but we can't figure out why. A very sympathetic character, in his way.***

~More Money and a Trailer by FranIAm~

Daddy tole me that it would be ok to merry cousin Joe on account of Joe got some money and a good trailer to take me to.

I don't know. I feel a little scared in my tummy. Mama says not to be afraid but I know what he is gonna do with me later.

This white dress is real pretty though and I feel like a real grown up lady even though I am only 15.

Daddy does that thing with mama and thats why theres so many little ones and I have to marry Joe.

Will that happen to me to?

***Management Note: The use of voice in this piece is brilliant. What innocence. Thanks FranIAm!***