We Get All Kinds Here
by D. Ohana
A toothy grin greets me at my Public Storage counter. He visits every week. Peering through the wire first, he opens his cage door, gaze lingering. Finally he departs.
Nothing ever placed or removed. Emptiness, that looming endless void bracketing our lives, is that what he guards so fervently? Why dare open that door? Ever.
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55 words
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Author's Note
Based on an anecdote from a public storage facility I went to yesterday as related to me by the gal behind the counter. A little poetic license on my part for the second paragraph.
55 words is a great exercise in economy. This is my first time. Thanks.
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I like this very much. The visual is wonderful and it conjures all kinds of back story. It rattles the imagination... Sparks something and let's the reader run with it. Yes.
Steve,
Thank you so much. Forcing myself to limit the story to 55 words made me concentrate expression, and at the same time experiment with leaving empty spaces for the reader to fill in, a notion that I am struggling to put into practice with longer pieces as well.
I think you chose the right 55 words.
"Why dare open that door? " really pulled me in, made me want to fill in the space and answer the question.
Thank you, Carol for reading my 55 and for letting me know that it pulled you into that very space I had hoped to leave. :)
Surreal and compelling.
Gloria,
It is validating to know that you felt what I was trying to convey.
Thanks for reading and commenting.
Great first paragraph. Not a clue that it may be related to M ILLNESS unless LIF itself is.
Thank you Ann for reading and commenting. Is it mental illness, or life itself? Aye, that's the rub, isn't it? Something to explore further, don't you think?