A short-short story I ran across this morning from 2016 that I like. A quick read.
Back in 2017, I wrote this story. Worth a read. A Simple Fix
Be quiet. Be still. Don’t move a muscle. You think you will not cause change? Not true.
Just by being, you are causing changes. Every breath you take, changes something, moves something, colors something.
What if you stop breathing?
You can’t escape this, Even in death, you continue to change–your body changes and you cause changes. Your decomposition will give off odor and you will become nutrients in the soil. The bacteria will consume you, change you and become other things. Your energy passes into other forms.
Embalmed and placed in an airtight vault where you will not succumb to deterioration? You will take up space my friend–your presence will continue.
You are forever.
© Glenda Kotchish
A pebble in the flowerbed, buried under a weed, flew up from the weed wacker and hit the sliding glass door. A tiny pebble–moving at just the right speed, striking at just the right spot, shattered the glass. I watched the glass ripple and break into tiny pieces. The crackling sounds were eerie. Every few minutes the cracks would ping as the break spread to the furthest edges of the door.
I put up a sign. Don’t open this door. Danger, broken glass–a reminder for myself.
This happened at home–my safe place–a place where I go and collapse on the couch, flick on the T.V. and tune out of the world and all the things that happen out there. Nothing happens here. From the couch, I look out the sliding glass door at the birds and the deer who come nibble on my plants and drink from the bird bath. They share the seeds I put out, the birds and the deer. But now that view is cracked and fuzzy, too.
© Glenda Kotchish
“Oh, it’s you.”
“I’m okay. I’d ask you how you are if I cared, but I don’t.”
“Sure, I have some time. Why not? Go ahead, I’m listening.”
“What’s this leading up to? Do you need some cash?”
“No? Really? What then?”
“Don’t whine. I hate whining, you know that. Just get on with it. It’s almost time for the bus and I don’t want to talk while I’m on the bus.”
“Where am I going? Where I always go at 7:30 in the morning–to work. You know, that thing I do to earn money to live.”
“Yeah, same place.”
“It’s okay, pays the bills. So tell me, what’s the point of this call?”
“Yes, yes I’m listening. Yes, I can have an open mind, until it slams shut.”
“That was a joke. I AM listening. Stop crying.”
“Would a job help? They are hiring at the bakery.”
“What’s wrong with you? Why can’t you work?”
“That’s no excuse. And for your information I don’t think you have a sleep disorder. I’ve seen you asleep, dead to the world on my couch.”
“Yes, I did say I’d have an open mind. But if you’re going to BS me at least make up a viable story.”
“We’ve been through this before. It doesn’t work for me. It didn’t work last time. It’s a small apartment.”
“You DO take up a lot of room. You are a slob and you and your things spread like a virus.”
“When did you get a dog? And why did you get a dog? You can’t even take care of yourself and now you have a DOG?”
“Sorry, I guess I was judging you. I’m sorry you’re lonely.”
“The dog has no place to go?”
“Do NOT put the dog out on the street. And do not drive out to the country and drop that dog and leave it to fend for itself.”
“Yes you do have a choice.”
“Ok, listen. Are you listening?”
“I said, ARE YOU LISTENING?”
“I’ll take the dog,”
“No, you can’t tag along. Where are you?”
“Why do I need to know? Because I’m coming to get the dog, that’s why.”
“Wait, let me get out a pen to write this down.”
“Ok, go ahead, I’m listening.”
(c) Glenda Kotchish