Pockets

[Suzanne]

Pockets

The concrete has pebbles protruding making it difficult to sit but briefly to dangle feet over the edge, lean my chest into the railing and tap my shoes together. Like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, I close my eyes and whisper the refrain, "There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home..." and hear the sound of debris falling into the brook below declaring I've traveled somewhere. Stones once trapped in my soles fall freely to a new place to rest, it's a fine thing.

The color of stones are different than what I remember from my childhood. Here, they are mostly gray, no point in looking for the surprise agate to put into a pocket. Quarries of my childhood shared an ancient bed with the Great Lakes, so discovering a Lake Superior agate, while uncommon, was not impossible for a girl with a good eye for color and quick reflexes. I'd bike past rock filled suburban driveways and spot the iron-red treasures flashing in the sun, take them home and polish them in a clay tumbler. And dream of jewelry.

It's not unusual to have a rock in your pocket, but an elephant in your hand, well, that is unusual. But that comes later.

I had a 9V battery and a penny in my pocket once, I swear I was close to spontaneous combustion when the penny made flat contact with the protruding metal. The warmed copper made me squeal and hop around trying to get away from my own pockets. What surprise that was! My sister laughed her head off. And as it happens, it was at a time when she was getting mild head injuries in strange accidents, so laughing her head off was not out of the realm of possibility. This hot-pants incident happened during a period I couldn't wear any wrist watch because the batteries drained shortly after putting them on. Call it coincidence, but at my most intuitive peak, I was nearly electric, that's what she said.

Having pennies or a collected rock isn't unusual at all, I bet some of you have one or both in your pocket as you read this. It tells me nothing. But at about age 19, I learned that what was carried in pockets sometimes told secrets, if accidentally revealed in a sudden show of the hidden items. For example, when looking for that extra penny, fingers fumble blindly but if you take out the contents for display, well, things can get awkward.

A bit of a broken household appliance isn't uncommon to find next to that pocketed penny. A spring or screw found on the floor while cleaning can seem familiar enough to hold on to but not familiar enough to quickly locate its rightful place. These are the sorts of things that show up eventually in the washing machine rubber seal. The door seal is a sort of ultimate pocket for for all pockets, isn't it? The washing machine: a collector and sorter of what we store within the folds our clothes, from garden debris to a snippet of wire, and always a pebble or two.

But everything you slip into your pocket isn't just in transport from the wrong place to the correct place, many people carry specific tokens in their pockets, ritualistically transferring them from one pair of jeans to the next. Right now, I have a hedgehog in my pocket. Or a gnome. Well, which is it? You might ask and I would answer it is both. It is a totem, a relic, a talisman. It's a carved stone.






.

[JohnLott]

I'm assuming you didn't leave out 'in' in your title.

There is a sense of regret in this reminiscence, which is what I think you intend.
A sort of paradise lost - so to speak.

Not sure about the structure and descriptions. It has a shape and a tone of the middleness that I hear in much of modernist poetry. It would be a shame if it crept into prose as well.

Elephants?



J.

[Magpie Jane]

Suzanne, this is a fascinating pocket-yarn going from pebbles & stones to batteries & head injuries!
I really enjoyed your train of associations: The flow isn't exactly smooth; but, on the other hand, neither is the concrete you're sitting on, and neither is any of the situations you describe (except, of course, for the polished stones).

When I read it, I was thinking how it might be suited for a mixed verse-and-prose piece; something like:


The concrete has pebbles that protrude
making it difficult to sit but briefly
to dangle my feet over the edge,
lean my chest into the railing
and tap my feet together.

Like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, I close my eyes and whisper the refrain, "There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home..." I hear the sound of debris falling into the brook below and it declares I've traveled somewhere.

Stones once trapped in my soles
fall freely into a new place to rest
it's a fine thing.

The color of stone is different ..................... [and so on ...]


Maybe. Maybe not. It's merely a suggestion for you to do with as you please. It might be fun playing around with.

And I was quite enchanted by the elephant in your hand, well, that is unusual. But that comes later. - Later? Is there a sequel? Will we finally see the elephant in your hand? O wow, Suzanne, let the elephant loose among us!

Jane

[Suzanne]

John and Jane,
Thanks for commenting. It is fun to read what you thought.
I have added to it. It's my pleasure to try to get this story out, if it is enjoyed, that is really great.
Hope I can do it.

Warmly,
Suzanne

[Nash]

I think that this is absolutely brilliant Suzanne, I'm really enjoying watching it progress. I love the tone of it, with its wry humour. The style is just slightly reminding me of another writer but I can't think who. Were you influenced by another writer when writing this?

I stumbled over the punctuation (or lack of) in a couple of places and you've missed a letter out of Dorothy.

Looking forward to reading more.

[Suzanne]

Big BIG smile. Thanks Nash.

I'll look at the punctuation in the morning. My influence? I shrug, just me.

[JohnLott]

Suzanne, this seems to grow even as I read it.

Do I detect a pace and a description that is evolving?

Nash has picked up on the missing punctuation and correcting that will certainly help.

This bit doesn't seem right "....Having pennies or a rock collected isn't usual at all..." Should it be 'unusual'? I know I often have stones and crystals in my pocket that I have picked up from stream beds etc on the Moors.



J.

[Suzanne]

Thank you John. I hope you come back and read it again. Thanks for the typo spot.
I understand that editing adding to and editing online is not common here is the Prose section but I am hoping it is acceptable.

Warmly,
Suzanne

[Magpie Jane]

There are some really great moments and movements developing in this piece, Suzanne.

Following the build-up of your story is fascinating.
Fabulous stuff you're writing here.
More to come?

Jane

[Suzanne]

Thank you, Jane , for the encouragement.
I recently heard an author of short stories ask how he did it and his cheeky reply was "one sentence at a time". The interview went on to describe how he really did write each sentence as he wrote his poetry, pondering the words order, etc...

I've become quite interested in short stories this year. And realized I always thought they were written once the idea was fully formed, I don't know why I thought that? Silly, really. It is one of those things that you are not aware that you think until your ideas are challenged... so there you are.

So, the interview was encouraging and I decided to try it with this. I have an idea and am following a, hmm, character? voice? muse? to see if I can bring it to fruition.
There are few few stories in my head that I have been hoping to write, they sit patiently and wait... in the back row periodically raising their hand to be acknowledged.

Please stop again and let me know your thoughts. I admit enjoying myself. lol. Always pleased if someone else enjoys it, too.

Warmly,
Suzanne

[Nash]

Still reading and still enjoying Suzanne!

[Suzanne]

Wahoo! thanks for telling me.Suzanne