Ice Storm
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Last night: Ice. The slick embalming, the weighted branches of trees, the snap of power lines, while on the streets one heard the constant blare of ambulances, fire engines, police. Someone was hurting out there. Within, all was dark and chilled.
I thought of the girl I'd seen at the grocery store the day before—her cheeks scuffed red, her eyes swollen, her features heavy with some secret, incurable sadness.
9 comments:
Ice storms are so deadly and yet so beautiful.
Now combine this image with the picture of the door from the abandoned building and you've got a story...
You're painting a picture so vivid I'm getting chills.
Vivian is so right -- this is a story. You have to tell it.
I was chilled through by the images you set before us. I feel there is more to this story...
I hope you're curled up safe at home! When I was in middle school, we were without electricity for 2 weeks because of an ice storm. My grandpa took me with him around our farms to feed the cows and I remember thinking that the trees looked so beautiful. Of course, 2 weeks without electricity got old after awhile...
This decides it, you writer-reader-bloggers, you. My next story, when I can write an actual story, will involve ice, daggered doors, and a rescue.
Em, you are too modest, too much, and much too funny.
I'm terribly drawn in...who is the girl? What is the sadness? Will one of those sirens be hers?
XO
A.
Ice, daggered doors, and a rescue? Sounds like a FAB tale to me!
And this is how the fabulous Beth Kephart can take 69 words and uncover a novel that we all want to read!
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