IF!!!

edgardsantos91 — Sun, 13 Dec 2009 23:58:29 +0000

If you are interested in reading more of my stories, or are interested in my work, just contact me @ Writingstufff@yahoo.com!

A Meeting By Edgard Santos

edgardsantos91 — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 20:55:08 +0000

The girl was on fire and she struggled to douse the flames, throwing herself on the ground and rolling on her back. No one was watching and her mother had gone to the place she always went to during Friday nights. She had said to stay there, in the apartment while she went and came like she always did. And Alma did what she always did. She got the key her mother kept under the fake rock they kept on the patio and headed for the park. How parks reminded her of freedom, she thought. Of joy, which she hardly experienced. Being the child of a widowed Forty something year old was not easy, nor fun. But she made haste in coloring on white papers as her mother smoked the endless line of cigarettes. Alma wondered how many could she have before she’d had enough, like when you fill yourself up with food or something. Didn’t all things work like that?
But as she rolled—and thankfully the park was empty like every other Friday night—she thought on the simple things. Like how many rolls were left before the fire gave up. Or if her clothes would burn up as she went—though they never did and she hadn’t gotten reason to believe in that notion.
Alma sighed, still on fire and sat on the nearest bench. The fire blazed over her skin and she looked at it. The space between the fire and her skin was like when you put oil in water. They would never mix, so she wasn’t afraid, and why should she be? There were many things that scared her—like where her mother went to every Friday night and how come she had all those dollars in her purse. Alma had seen the bikinis carried. They glittered as she placed them near the light—it made her skin catch a hue of blue diamond, or bright pink. But why would she need a bikini for? The beach wasn’t open that late in the night, was it?
“Hey girl,” the man said and she jumped up. He was wearing a rain coat and black rain boots and she looked up to the clear sky, a question in her brow.
“Oh I know it’s not gonna rain,” he said as if reading the question from her mind and sat next to her.
Her mother had always told her not to speak to strangers and she wanted to leave right there and then—but he wasn’t bothered by her. He hadn’t even noticed the fire, or at least pretended not to, which was at least respectful. I mean who would look at an abnormality straight forward without being a little worried that the person would look back and feel just horrible.
“So why are you…?”
“I rain sometimes,” he said with a very serious face. “You should have seen the chaos I caused in the pacific once when I went with Darla—that’s my wife—for vacation.”
Alma nodded and did as the adults would every time her mother had an adult party. They would just talk gibberish and nod and occasionally chuckle. Adults were so boring.
“Where is your wife now?” she said thinking that would be the right “adult” thing to say.
“She’s in the hospital… I could only make rain, not miracles,” he said and chuckled drily, looked up to the moon that hung above them. The stars were the scarf around its neck, she thought.
“Can you help me?”
The man looked over and as if surprised to see that the girl was on fire said simply. “Oh my. Well yes I can,” and he raised a hand up to the sky. For a moment nothing happened, but then as if the message had gone through the sky cracked and a small rain cloud descended over Alma. The water doused the fire, making her skin tickle as it sizzled off.
“Thanks,” she said and looked down at her clothes that were left intact.
“It takes a bit of getting used to,” he said after a moment. “This whole thing—life and all. You know?”
She nodded and looked at the ground to where she was trying to spell her name with her foot on the mud.
“Alma huh?” he said and she almost jumped. “Sorry there.”
She shrugged and gave up on trying to figure out what to say next.
“She’ll be okay though—my wife that is.”
Alma turned to the man and scooted over on the rough bench. He stood very still for a moment as she studied him with her fingers tracing the lines on his old face. Alma wondered if her father had been so handsome and nice.
“Well I have to go now child. Aren’t you getting back to your house,” he said.
“Soon,” she said and stretched her arm out, palm open. A spark fluttered over her hand one moment and then it was gone. She smiled at the man and said.
“I just have to get the hang of this thing,”
“That you do child—that you do,” he said and waved as he walked away.

Gale

edgardsantos91 — Thu, 08 Oct 2009 16:18:46 +0000

She stood still a moment, then hovered over the cool, wet fields of green ferns and grass as tall as men, her hair swaying, touching, moving everything in her path. She was sure she would need it again, the momentum and sway of the force that drove her. And it came, as it always did, pushing her to everything–everything to herself.
The moments came and went and left her briefly before she caught on and swiped the trees with her arms, each branch testified of her lift and push. Every leaf testified of her wonder.
She would be forever, she knew this. She would outlive much and stay even in the there after. She would live within men and livings things that growled and purred and clicked. She would move the fields and she would be loved, for there was no choice but to love her. Cherish her every move.
There was no other that had been loved so.
There had been times when her swipe had been heavy and swift and her anger lifted, even the sail boats that blew deep horns and tin roofs, revealing the poor, the helpless.
But these were times when she would regain herself. A time when she would no longer grow angry, nor let her mind stray.
As her feet lifted from the ground, leaving the trail of her hair behind she smiled.
Each animal and tree smiled back, each star and element bowed before her, for she had been Gale.

Short Tales and Tragedies

IF!!!

A Meeting By Edgard Santos

Gale