Category: ‘short story’

dreadlocks

November 29, 2010 Posted by the writer

Dreadlocks

The girl smirks with each hair twist tangling her dry tresses to a new life of dreadlocks. She likes the boy that’s doing them – his tattooed calf and headscarf, dreadlocks with many years on the doe getting twisted.

She briefly eyes me on arrival. I’m ordering a double espresso and feeling guilty about staining my teeth.

The doe checks me out when I sit across from her at a low black coffee table. She pretends not to see me smile and moves to a separate table in front of the neighbouring barbershop.

Dreadlock man with the beard and flip-flops twists and attempts awkward chitchat. The attempts never last.

Much to my dismay, a West End smackie stumbles off the block. ‘Lookin to buy some marijuana mate!’

‘Sorry mate I can’t help you,’ I said unsure of whether or not he catches my accent. His bleached rattail claims he doesn’t. (more…)

the driver. piece of a story.

November 27, 2010 Posted by the writer

A piece of a piece I am working on… peace and love luscious cult of word junkies!

the driver

Traveling in a small pack is effective until the show starts, then your three set splits to separate corners and each individual focused on is convinced you’re there alone. They’re convinced you’re their best friend when you say things like ‘That’s that shiz’ and discretely pinch your pointer and thumb to crack a bag with a scent that would lift the whole room if you didn’t close it just as quick.

And then you name your price. (more…)

stage fright at dress rehearsal

November 22, 2010 Posted by the writer

Stage fright at dress rehearsal

‘Dancing is something intensely personal,’ she says flicking an amber ash of her third Lucky Strike onto the unfinished floor; exposed foundation. Grey like a December sky in New York City. Dark enough that the burgundy walls seem swallowed in its shadows. Her eyes are spiralling glow-worms, warmed by deep brown locks that fall two-hands past her shoulders and hide the left side of her face… just… (enough.) (more…)

attire of endearment

November 20, 2010 Posted by the writer

He said we were going to Texas; I bought a pair of snakeskin boots. We watched a dusty sun sink into a lake whose name I can’t repeat – because I was distracted by how the gold brown reflection from the sun dipping down swirled in hazel eyes. Like a liquid galaxy holding the time that had passed, that didn’t exist.

He told me I was beautiful and emotion moved down me in a way that twisted my insides in circles and knots. We were… (still). Surrounded by sounds like a breeze between branches, the rhythm of the crickets.

It was hard for me to… (more…)

shades of blue

November 4, 2010 Posted by the writer

Shades of Blue

Last night you asked me to clean your house.

‘You need a job,’ you said.

It’s because I look for you two or three times a day while you’re occupied with other things. It’s because I’m leaving again and know what that means but cannot verbally express it.

I’m not as good with words as you assume. (more…)

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    FollowMeToNYC is a creative processing ground which expresses individual ideas that often change with the tides. Naturally, these ideas do not reflect those of any of my employers, or anyone else you might see me wandering down the street with one day.
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