OK, more Short Fiction than Poetry, but I wrote it at the same time as Sun Rise so it's funny how the mind can work in parallel... Can't quite consciously make the link, myself, but guess the brain has it's own inner dialogue goin on. LOL K xx
PS... So spot the non-sequentia in this story!! :)))
BLINK…
or The Death Of Time And Place
The forensic team, in their head-to-toe white, moved like weightless spacemen through the rooms of her third-floor apartment within hours of her strange disappearance. Nothing had been, or was to be, disturbed. But there were no signs of break-in or hurried departure. No vestige of intrusion or struggle. Just the mystery of her silhouette, a puzzling shadow pooled on the peachy carpet, and the minute hand of the mantle clock, bent like a spear at 90 degrees, tipped in blood.
The spectacled gaze of an investigator was magnified fish-like, seen from the other side of the full water glass which he raised to his eyes in examination. “This trace of lipstick round the rim is so fresh”, he mused. “It could have been left only moments ago. And the shadow suggests she was standing at the window with the book in her hand just… so.”
He bent to pick up the hardback where it had fallen, raising his eyebrows at the cover before striking an awkward pose to demonstrate. “Strange reading for a woman her age” he muttered, while also noting for the first time the page edged in red – evidence of a paper-cut.
…. Invisible outside the window, she hovered, airy and mercurial, yet feeling of more substance than ever before. She pressed pink lips to the pane and the flat of her scratched palm, together with the mark of her stabbed heart, to the Darling glass. However much she might wish to, she knew she could never return.
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Reviews of "Blink... or The Death Of Time And Place"
Reviewed by J M (Reader)
Reviewed on March 19, 2007
Kate you are an dramatic writer, the sequil is excellent and yes it is funny how the mind works dropping these combinations and continuations,,, Wonderful job I enjoyed was gone so catching up.... XX Josie
Intriguing mystery. Book it, Kate! or Book'em, Kate! I like this...
Reviewed by Joseph* OneLight*® (Reader)
Reviewed on March 16, 2007
What's been written in the waters continues to flow to the sea and we can only "find" it, once again, by going forward for it no longer exists in the past.
gosh not sure what to write here...this gave me that goosebump feel
definately held my attention throughout, great effect of the another dimension...well done, would have made a great "twilight zone" episode (tv show of the 60's in the states)
Dayumn, Kate, you hooked me in with this riveting, powerful prose piece! Solid writing from you once again; you rock my world with your words! BRAVA, dear lady and friend, BRAVA!!
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in America, Karen Lynn in Texas. :D
Sun Rise - Sun Set: former the soundtrack, the latter a concluding reprice. Bookending relevence.
Plot has familiar ring to it - entity detached from the late physical looking on the inside from the outside: recalls Tales of the Unexpected circa 1970s - remember the female form dancing at the start of the credits?
I'm probably chewing the fat here - we can only know the writer's will not the mind behind the plot, unravelling it therefore is a case of twisting and bending the plot MaGonagal fashion to fit the sequence of events set in motion by Sun Rise. As Doris Day once sang: 'Que ser sera...'
For me - looking through a glass onion - the unsheathing of arousal in the forerunner poem signalled a two edged sword: untramelled passion on the one, red rose speedway towards fatality on the other. Possible in a story written with the ink of suspected nihilism. Drink to me, drink to my health? No - what was unsheathed was an intensity that knew she could not live anymore.
For the man with the inquistive nose, not so much a wild goose but paper chase (did Richard Harris not sing a song with this as its title?): 'noting for the first time the page edged in red - evidence of a paper-cut' Your honour, I rest my case.
The victim is time and place - blood stained hand a give - away (hard for a Scot to utter that fiscally driven verb/adverb). Meanwhile, she outside/inside vapourised yet matrixed to a blood stained endless season of glass. In all her lively ethereal state, did she know why?
Scratched palm? Darling glass. Hmm, glass again - mirror becomes a razor when it's broken. Her reflection in the glass speaks volumes of her shattered fate - but the mercurial bit? An enigma that only the mind of the writer knows.
Cue Sun Set (not from Fiddler on the Roof, by the way)
Non - sequentia? I hesitate. I'm thinking Roy Wood here - Brontosaurus - my mind's fixed on the head and tail.
Compelled me to unsheath my force du courage - don't think I drew blood though.
luv the intrigue , mystery and unique presentation of descriptive imagery ... you offer just enough to entice the imagination while absorbing the reader into the circumstances of this event ... i also luv how you end this, with her astral body hovering over, knowing she can never return ... great write!
Agatha Christie move aside, in just a few short paragraphs of vivid and stunning mystery writing our own Sweet Kate has put her to shame. I love the dramatics of this write and the mysterious clues left hangin in each line for the reader to dwell on and the illusions of spectral planes and spectres hanging around casting shadwos is brilliant. Well done Kate, look forward to more of this...
Detective/Mystery Pulp Fiction. I want to do the cover art! Geez, you made me bleed on this one...the paper cuts are wicked...Blood sisters, Kate, touch pinkies...Wonder if the book she was reading was authored by her, living out her own Chapter BLINK...OR THE DEATH OF TIME AND PLACE? "A woman of her age?" I wonder if she was a vampire reading anime?
Amateur sleuth and cobbler Fulton Moon (yes, his nickname is Full Moon) encounters beautiful and sinister Lucinda Mathews. Lucy, wife of prominent florist Arthur Mathews, wants to escape an abusive husband and Moon only wants to help. It isn’t that
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Love & Light always and in all ways,
Joseph*
Carmen :-)
definately held my attention throughout, great effect of the another dimension...well done, would have made a great "twilight zone" episode (tv show of the 60's in the states)
Excellent!
great write, Kate
love and peace
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in America, Karen Lynn in Texas. :D
Blessings,
Joyce Bowling
Love Tinka
Sun Rise - Sun Set: former the soundtrack, the latter a concluding reprice. Bookending relevence.
Plot has familiar ring to it - entity detached from the late physical looking on the inside from the outside: recalls Tales of the Unexpected circa 1970s - remember the female form dancing at the start of the credits?
I'm probably chewing the fat here - we can only know the writer's will not the mind behind the plot, unravelling it therefore is a case of twisting and bending the plot MaGonagal fashion to fit the sequence of events set in motion by Sun Rise. As Doris Day once sang: 'Que ser sera...'
For me - looking through a glass onion - the unsheathing of arousal in the forerunner poem signalled a two edged sword: untramelled passion on the one, red rose speedway towards fatality on the other. Possible in a story written with the ink of suspected nihilism. Drink to me, drink to my health? No - what was unsheathed was an intensity that knew she could not live anymore.
For the man with the inquistive nose, not so much a wild goose but paper chase (did Richard Harris not sing a song with this as its title?): 'noting for the first time the page edged in red - evidence of a paper-cut' Your honour, I rest my case.
The victim is time and place - blood stained hand a give - away (hard for a Scot to utter that fiscally driven verb/adverb). Meanwhile, she outside/inside vapourised yet matrixed to a blood stained endless season of glass. In all her lively ethereal state, did she know why?
Scratched palm? Darling glass. Hmm, glass again - mirror becomes a razor when it's broken. Her reflection in the glass speaks volumes of her shattered fate - but the mercurial bit? An enigma that only the mind of the writer knows.
Cue Sun Set (not from Fiddler on the Roof, by the way)
Non - sequentia? I hesitate. I'm thinking Roy Wood here - Brontosaurus - my mind's fixed on the head and tail.
Compelled me to unsheath my force du courage - don't think I drew blood though.
A write that obliges us to levitate cerebrally.
The pen of a literary artisan.
Regards
Dai
Now this is cool--intrigue. Mystery. A hint of romance--yes. More, Kate, more, you've opened a brand new chapter!!
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
Hugs
Fee
Kate Christie...hmmmmm sounds good to me...huh;-)
Applause!!!
Love,
Susan
Sage