Elijah Pen
Bio
Hey! I just thought I'd share my work on here. Maybe someone can get something from it, who knows.
Stories (3/0)
Laborer and Hostess
I was a laborer and she was a hostess. We would stare passionately at one another. Some would say we were just as in love with the lower-class life we were living together. We were poor but you would not expect it by the way we carried ourselves. We never pronounced our love to the world, because as far as we were concerned, we were the only ones living on it. Our mornings were rehearsals of when we would see each other in the evenings; what I would say to her when I saw her, and of the things we would do. We seldom had fun, and it was usually after a fight, but when we fought it was not because we were learning more about each other, but because we were remembering one thing or another we had always instinctively known about each other's behavior. We reminisced at times about how the voices in your head that judge one thing or something else tends to relax with age, although we weren't that old. She made the nights seem quieter, and the stars somewhat brighter, and colors had their way of shimmering with a higher gloss when she was around. We had no friends we entertained. No family either one of us could recall. One day, after work she scolded me about a thought she had. She told me people aren't usually as lonely as we are, and she was convinced other people share their worlds with one another. “What we are doing isn't normal”. I told her we weren't normal people. We shared a soul, or a brain, or our thoughts. Whatever we shared - other people couldn't possibly understand. She told me I was right, perhaps. Sometimes I had felt she didn’t truly feel the same way as me. To me, she was everything in my world. She was a metaphor all around me - in the cracks of pavement growing weeds in our neighborhood, in the loud drunks yelling beneath the twilight, in the sounds of emergency sirens wailing, in the art gently laid on the canvas walls. I brought it up to her one time, that I was concerned about her true feelings for me. She told me she thought that about me from time to time as well. “So, we are truly in love then? Not one thing has even gotten in between us?” “Yes”.
By Elijah Pen3 years ago in Confessions
The Device That Was Not Named
The Harvest was beginning on an extremely hot day, so hot in fact one little boy was boiling an egg on the citizen-walk. As the egg was bubbling, a shimmering light in his periphery was so blinding and extravagant that it forced its way into his pupils, making him turn the other way, and filling his brain with mystery. He walked over to it, struggling as if walking through a snowstorm in the daytime. He reached the mysterious device, stretching out his hand with his eyes covered and patting around for the device as if trying to reach a fallen item in a sewer, picking it up by its chain, and swinging it so the light would shine the opposite way. On the back of it, there was a little immaculate engraving of a half-moon-half-sun. As much as the boy tried he could not look into the device. And so he took it to his father. "What's this you have here"? His father grabbed it, clutching it with his hands as to the shimmer. “I said boy, you leave things where they may lay, now take it back”. The father slipped the contraption into the sitting covers, grabbed an old garment material, ripped it in half, and slid his hands into the sitting covers, grabbing the device and wrapping it simultaneously while pulling it back out so as to stop the shine. The boy nodded, grabbed the gadget, and went on his way.
By Elijah Pen3 years ago in Fiction