Tuesday, February 24, 2015

Smoked to the Frame



“Inhale motherfucker.”
“Inhale motherfucker!”
 
     His voice was low and wicked in the boy’s ears. His large, hot hand fumbled with his crotch. He grabbed his balls and squeezed, the blinding pain causing the young man to inhale sharply the acrid, sweet smoke, ending in a coughing fit.  Then it was over

     “See ya tomorrow shithead,” the man said, “and bring money, the lady ain’t free.”

     The rush should have been all consuming, but it was secondary in his case, background.  The sound of his own blood pulsing in his ears and the vision of his mother telling him he would be something, something…something. Flying to the moon and back was something, right?

     Everything was on his right, even that girl who lived on Folsom, she was reaching for his hand but he couldn’t move.  He could see himself smiling, but lifting his arm was out of the question, it was toooo... damnnn... heavy.

    “In a minute honey-pie,” drifting, “jus’ one more minute.”
 
 

9 comments:

  1. Yikes! This is a very visceral piece (and I don't even have the pieces.) It is really effective, Corey--so succinct and yet you've got it all jammed in there--multi=-layered. I am still feeling a little trembly--and yet also smiling in a weird way at how strange youth is (and in my case far away.) K.

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  2. You have an uncanny ability to transport the reader into a scenario which has all the senses on alert from the first word. I thought the line: the vision of his mother telling him he would be something... was perfectly placed and especially poignant.

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  3. Ouch.. this sounds just like the way you shouldn't grow up.. to be a young man and growing up like this would make it come around again.. Somehow it's strange you survive youth at all.

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  4. This has puberty's jackhammers cranking the volume knob to 11 ... so we are midwifed into adulthood, with a rough hand on our balls. The agony and altitude are spot-on.

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  5. Well Done, Rowley! This tiny piece has tension, release and even some bittersweet nostalgia of rebellion. That's a lot to accomplish in such a short space. This flowed well and kept my interest to the very last syllable. Viva la

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  6. …it chills me - makes me want to never let my 7 year old boy grow up!

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  7. such pain, on so many levels… imprisoned and vanishing… that is the sense I get from this.

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  8. Oh, so sad and scary — and sobering, at least to the reader.

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