Rewind
You can keep your bread and crackers. I don't need them. I will keep my whiskey. I will drink it in the study, TV on, volume down. In this house there are no voices, only echoes. There is only the sound of growing old.
Days splinter. There are casseroles and strangers, Arrangements made with scoured phrases. There are dotted lines and perforations. Sign here. Initial there. Between, there is an elemental stillness. A wedding band. A broken wristwatch. ATV that broadcasts to an empty chair.
On my shelf sits a stack of photo albums, catalogued and labelled volumes 1 - 9. I lift them down, run the pages between my fingers. I find her there in profile, arms folded, one hip jutting, right where I'd first placed her, midway through volume 3.
I rise early, drink coffee by the window, gaze at nothing, lost in used-to-be. All this, and yet there are things I still believe in. I believe in Autumn gardens, jazz playing in the background, hair twisting round a finger, lips pursing, saying, Yes.
I need time. That's what they tell me. With this I would agree. I need to grasp time, squeeze it tightly, and when I feel it slipping, when I grow weary of its passing, I need to stop it, hit rewind.
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Author's Note
Published in Blue Five Notebook, June 2012 Flash Special
Reprinted as "An Empty Chair" in the Linnet's Wings
Other stories by Sally Houtman
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"Lips pursing, saying Yes". What a lovely, longed-for moment.
I'm taken with the stillness of this piece.
I think I did see this in Blue Five. I like it even better now. The writing is so very sure.
This is great, Sally. Really excellent.*
I still believe in autumn gardens, jazz playing in the background, hair twisting round a finger, lips pursing, saying, Yes.
..
Me too. Lovely. Lovely.
Lovely piece, now and before.*
This is haunting, elegant, lyrical. Great writing.
A strong piece, Sally. Excellent phrasings throughout. Good writing.
Appreciate the kind comments.
Just showing it off, really.
Worked very hard to keep it balanced, not stray into sentimentality.
Very proud of this one.
This story and my story (http://www.fictionaut.com/stories/matthew-j-robinson/shell-of-my-future-self-a-narrative-riddle) are friends! That's right, I just plugged one of my stories in someone else's story comments! Hahaha!!!
Sally rocks.
*
Lovely work, Sally
fave!
"That's what they tell me." strong quiet stuff*
Really great - the whole piece. Last paragraph is superhypermost*
"Very proud of this one."
And rightly so in my opinion. When I suspect I might be looking at a piece of really top-drawer writing, really flawless writing, I look for the sentence that lets it down. That's the pedant in me. I can't find that sentence here. *
Really nice, Sally. *
Nice, Sally!
Great writing, Sally.*
Sally, this is lovely writing.*
If only. This reads like a poem.
I keep coming back to read it. It must be a fave*
Love some of the lines in this - "Days splinter. There are casseroles and strangers, Arrangements made with scoured phrases." Really, really nice. Great piece of writing.
thoughtful, poignant, brilliant writing. ***
So emotional. Grief and memories turned concrete, into words.
You should be very proud of this. If I could write poetry like this, I wouldn't care about being poor or old or alone. I wouldn't lack for anything ever again. This is symphonic. It's so fucking good I want to dance with you.
Nice work.*
Houtman you are so true.
"There are casseroles and strangers, Arrangements made with scoured phrases."
thee acute observations. Quite an original casserole indeed!
Quiet and powerful at the same time. Not easily done.
I love waking up in the morning to a good story. Thanks, Sally for making my day!
Fave, Sally. All the good adjectives were used up above before I got to this story. I really appreciate it when you let me read your remarkable work.
This was beautiful. Thanks for sharing. There is a powerful stillness in this piece with an equally powerful undercurrent of disaster. well done.
Thanks. Helps along my Saturday morning.
Beautiful, Sally. ***
"I rise early, drink coffee by the window, gaze at nothing, lost in used-to-be..."
There are times when something written just hits me good and hard, both for the craft of it and the emotion it brings out. This did it.
Once in awhile a story demands an automatic reread -- so I did. You portray the loneliness of the character with the sparse setting. In fact, it's a short film: ". . . I find her there in profile, arms folded, one hip jutting . . .". Powerful and haunting. *
Just checking in to see if I still love this story. Yep.
This is beautiful, Sally! Brava*
This is just fantastic. Capturing a moment in an economy of words!
Your "speed-dial" correct capture of my piece Fuckanear Suicide prompts me to come here and reread this piece and to enjoy it more than ever. Definitely a keeper. Thanks kindly for this one.
excellent. loved every word.
especially,
lost in used-to-be.
Oh yes, Sally. Still one of my favorites of yours. Well done.
Big *
Another winner Sally, Btfly done this one. A big fav! *