Senses of Self

Five sentences on beauty after many near-sleepless nights and a fun and productive but tiring weekend

Senses of Self

She had expected her adjustment to total blindness to be devastating, and at first it had

been, but then the absence of sight became part of her. As they waited for the doctor, she drummed her fingertips on the familiar textured wall and reached over to squeeze her husband’s warm, denim-covered thigh. Sight, she realized, like hearing, was passive, but the purposeful physical connection of touch revealed true beauty and understanding without misdirection. “Come on,” she said rising from the chair and extending a hand, “I don’t need to be fixed.”

Both of his hands closed around hers as he rose, murmuring, “No, you don’t.”

Window Redressing

Another Visual Dare. The photo was a challenge for me. To be honest, I found it a little dull and had a hard time getting a handle on what the story was. Here's 144 words written in around 25 minutes.

Window Redressing

Photo Credit

People passed without even glancing, and it irked her. The concept, execution, and clothing choices had taken weeks to finalize. She had personally overseen the glass cleaners, who were slow and left streaks. When they left, she'd had to tape a Windex-ed rag to a leftover curtain rod to remove the last smudges. And for nothing, according to the store manager, who had questioned the display and whom she had assured a big increase in sales from last spring. "Fix it," he'd said sharply three weeks after the installation. So here she was dodging cars while dragging a tote the size of a riding lawnmower across the street. Beach balls, small, round mirrors, fishing line, brightly colored towels. Boring. A guy would deliver a couple of bags of sand in the afternoon. "Sorry, guys," she whispered as she stepped into the window. "Party's over." 

Thanks to Anonymous Legacy for these challenges and for encouraging imagination and recreation with words.

Goose Leash

The following is for VisDare #14. It's 128 words, edited lightly from not much more than that. I wasn't feeling the story this photo was telling me today, which is odd because I absolutely love the photo. Enjoy.

Goose Leash

By the light of small kerosene lamp, she carefully hand-hemmed a small triangle of brown and grey tweed and glanced down at him from her rocker. "You won't stray again, Henry. I'm making sure of that." 

The white goose opened his bill and hissed disdain. His black eyes darted around the room as if he was trying to locate an exit.

"No reason you can't still be nicely dressed, though," she said with a positive but stern tone. She smiled. "And calm down, darling. You don't have hands. There's no way you're getting a door open. Best to relax." She giggled, the lamplight sparkling in her glasses, "Silly goose."

Fellow VisDare-ers, look me up on Twitter @gardenofedits for grammar, style, and baby tweets as well as my little fictions and poems.