Wednesday, October 23, 2013

Excerpt: Short History of Tides...RhondaK "The Faint of Heart"


Excerpt: Short History of Tides...RhondaK "The Faint of Heart"
$1.99 on

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“You know, I’m always scared to ask if a woman’s pregnant. Once I asked a woman when she was due and she let me know right quick that her lifelong problem with weight was none of my business.” He slipped me some M&Ms.

I slipped him my last smile before I fainted there on his cold, loving floor.

The Faint of Heart

“Girl, you gave me a scare,” the 7-11 clerk said. He was old. He should have been retired, but what passes for industry out here didn’t usually have a pension.

“Let me talk to her Frank,” an elephantine woman shuffled into view . She had long graying hair braided into 4 braids, two of which fed into the parallel rivers down her back.

“Do you feel anything? Pain? Pressure?” she wiped my face with a cold cloth while holding up my woozy back.

“Embarrassed.” I was glad I didn’t pee my pants when I went down.

“OK, doll baby, let’s get you up,” and she had me up before I could protest. I wasn’t sure if I shouldn’t have stayed still longer, but I knew I didn’t want to risk an ambulance coming.

“Should I call someone for you – an ambulance, a doctor?”

“No, I’m fine. Just fine. Just needed some water,” I was backing towards the door, regretting I had to leave the air. The cold false world of refrigeration and Icees.

I’d never fainted before. Never relied on the kindness of strangers and the sort of sick I felt was closer to my heart. A fear of reliance on others. It was a nausea. A soul nausea of realizing how helpless and clumsy I was. How the outside saw me as this pitiful, baby carrying creature. Frail. I couldn’t believe this was who I was in my heart. I couldn’t.


“Look, baby, let me give you a ride. It looks like you walked up here.”

“I did, but – I’m OK.” I had just walked 82 miles and had slept on the Flagler Beach Pier pretending to be with a fishing family.

“No, I’m not paying one bit of attention to you, sweetheart. You’re not in your right mind. My name is Louise, people call me Weezie. OK? I’m everyone’s Aunt around here. I’ve never seen you before.”

“I’m new.” I said feeling a sort of old. I’d never been away from home before but for church trips to parks and once to Orlando. The sun outside was in its unrelenting zenith where you’d think you could tune it in on a radio to hear it frying.

Weezie’s car was old person hot with old person smell. The cracked seats scratched the back of my legs and I couldn’t figure out how she thought she was helping me. Further, how could I tell her to drop me off in what still accounted for virtually no where? Just a straight A1A by a groaning, writhing sea.

“OK, girl, spill it.”

“What?”

“Look, you’re sunburned. You’re in good clothes, but they need to be washed. You’re tired. You’re not meeting anyone’s eye even when you’re obviously in dire need of help.”

I didn’t feel Weezie. That is, I didn’t feel her bulk, her old beat-up car, the sound of her voice – none of this made me want to drop the truth like change in a buskers hat. I don’t think fat people kind. They’re just people. Nor are t hey any more lazy. It was the sense of her. The way she seemed to take me over more like a kidnapping than an angel. The way she snapped my seatbelt closed and locked my door. I could have run, but I feared the police might be called to help the poor, out of her mind pregnant girl.

“You’re right. There’s a story, but I don’t want to talk about it.”

She drew on a cigarette, blew the smoke into my face and smiled.

“Tough are you?”

She pulled out of the parking lot back on to A1A heading North. My heart’s way.

“So, what happened? Who knocked you up or do you know? You girls these days have no idea how much all of that is worth.”

I thought she meant my virginity, but it ends up she’s telling me how women these days are making money not precisely selling their babies as much as fraud.

“Babies– now that’s easy money. Pretty thing like you could start a bidding war between two couples and…”

“Ms. Louise…Weezie, I’m not interested in money.”

“You’re one dumb slut – you know that?” She says it lazy like she might remark on the color of the sunrise or a lost shoe hanging on a telephone wire.

...

Saturday, July 27, 2013

Bad copies, disrespectful people

I wrote this saying December 3 years back.

I saw a bad and direct word change on the Sea called my soul...and my heart answered more in a sorta tear.

I am constantly amazed at how people who copy other people's work do so directly, badly and arrogantly. 

I've been yelled at by people who coped me. This one mean guy--I actually had a pic of him at a show standing with copies of my work dangling around his head. Including these.

Randall's answer? A stream of profanities .

Nice. 


Saturday, June 29, 2013

Some days

You just gotta sleep on it. 4 hrs from testing out the man bunny for his mate and painting a lot...

Rhondakwrites.com


Thursday, June 27, 2013

Excerpt: THE SHORT HISTORY OF TIDES by RhondaK

BUY HERE.  Read Excerpt below..





RhondaK--- A Short History of Tides -- Excerpt...

The fishermen didn’t even notice me. They likely thought me someone’s way too young wife.  The rush of air on my face on the bridge was irresistible and I had to look down at the white caps where two forces clashed slightly, daily forever and ever. Tide to tide.  If I fell in, I wouldn’t be swept or sucked away to anywhere. I longed for that anywhere.


The wind under their gulls’ wings ruffled with something I wish I felt in my heart.  Flight is a power.  To drop and stay from stream to stream as things change, fall and stop. To fly knowing this, an act of defiant love.


“Catch anything?” I couldn’t resist the time honored question.  He was rough, maybe in his 40s but looked dependable.  Flannel shirt undone so it hit my stomach as I walked by.


“Lordie, no.  This day the dagburned things aren’t biting.  Well, I should say, they aren’t biting my hook.  Hoover over there, he already got himself a mess of fish.”


His empty bucket slid a bit in the wind and he put his foot in it. “I’m about to give up.”


“Any chance, “ I say dreading the risk, “you’re headed North?” 


He appraised me on several levels. As a woman. As a girl. As trouble. As a pregnant woman. A young girl. And trouble again. 


“I wouldn’t be…” the wind picks up, “..trouble.”


He takes in the sky. The promise of rain. The fact no one is looking at us. The fact no fish are biting. That this is a day of troubles but perhaps acts of grace. And my hair is flying around my angelic, sunburned face.  Getting caught against the rough skin of my lips.  I know that I looked like I was going to cry.


“Are you in a hurry?” he asked.

.......


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Tuesday, June 25, 2013

The Short History of Tides - by RhondaK





http://www.lulu.com/shop/rhondak/the-short-history-of-tides/ebook/product-21083735.html

Fourteen year old Michelle's most intimate secret is about to be revealed. Instead of waiting for that moment, she decides to take the hero's journey up A1A trying to find the words for her falling apart world. Working her way north on Florida's A1A, she meets saviors, criminals, kidnappers, treasure hunters, hippies, fishermen, ghosts and ultimately a solution to a question of love and her place in history.

From sand dune to fort to tourists to tides, Michelle walks her walk and rewrites her place in Florida's history.
ry Crews whiskey shot in the back corner of a bar now resting under the soul erasing wall of Cinnamon Beach.
This short fiction is a bit of young girl Hiassen, Sebold's Lovely Bones, Hoffman's Blue Diary with a touch of a Harry Crews throwing back a shot of whiskey in a bar that doesn't exist any more.

http://www.lulu.com/shop/rhondak/the-short-history-of-tides/ebook/product-21083735.html