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(Flash Fiction) With so much wanting, so little fulfillment, the problem's solution seems totally out of reach for some.
Nomadic Hearts
Seems just yesterday simple Jane's heart kept perfect time. Ticking, never losing a beat. Days seemed good. Nights seemed hopeful.
The streets of her town, barren of big city chaos, knew calm. Knew boring. Knew best the general store, two-pump Texaco station, weekdays by habit, weekends by...
McDonalds was big at one end of town, KFC at the other. Frosty Freeze in the middle. On the outskirts of town, Lucky's Bar stayed alive into the wee hours.
Biker guy liked her. Told her she was pretty, deserved wind in her hair. She bought it. He delivered it. Both regretted it.
He biked down to Mexico. She hitched into NY. Wrote home: I'm a Kelly Girl!
Life remained livable, even with her heart still roaming, exposed and vulnerable. Then, Burt came along. Young, educated smoothie. Wall Street predator by day, trophy hunter by night. Simple Jane, unfortunately got in his sights. One night. Two nights. No nights.
Atop her apartment roof, that place all the lonely people frequent, she visited every night. Lights of the city meant something. She didn't know what.
Hers was a wounded heart. Plain Jane knew it, far too many others as well. Still, finally, she found some special moments of rest. Time wound her back up. More ticking. Important ticking. Love ticking. Until it didn't.
Tag on scruffy mutt's collar said Reggie, another frequent roof visitor. Gave her licks and wags. He crouched beside her, watched the stars together-every night. ‘til the winter snows came.
Reggie still visits the roof. Wanders about sniffing. Can't find plain Jane, but when he lies down at the edge of the roof, some say her reflection is still there in his eyes.
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Reader Reviews for
"Nomadic Heart"
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| Reviewed by Diana Legun |
3/29/2013 |
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| Odin, this is gorgeous. I see a splash of visceral everything in your style here, fresh and effective. I go to my knees for this vignette. The very brevity is the juice of its essence and right there in the center of its scarce is the tail of that last sentence: "...her reflection is still there in his eyes." How you could condense so much in this brevity and have me needing nothing more.....is wizardly. I don't think this could have had the same effect in poetry-form. Even the title is stunning. ~~ Diana ** P.S. "...deserved wind in her hair," beautious! |
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| Reviewed by Ronald Hull |
3/29/2013 |
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In the end, after all those dogs, she found a real dog. ;-)
So true for so many that go to the city. Most return to that dismal little town, marry a guy they don't like, and lead boring lives.
Ron |
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| Reviewed by Budd Nelson |
3/29/2013 |
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cool story
budd |
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| Reviewed by Ruan Burke |
3/29/2013 |
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Hauntingly beautiful and heart-breakingly real. My spirit really 'felt' for the unhappy Jane, lost in her loneliness ...and then for poor little Reggie - alone again - He now carries the wounded heart.
You have a way with words that really appeals to my nature and plays my emotional strings. |
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