Oh what the heck

Below the hello there was a lake of frozen feelings. Hard enough to skate on if one was daring. There in the bowels of her greeting she wanted so much more. She wanted to be more. She hated the feeling of knowing this was not summer vacation, this was in fact the rest of her life. She wanted a narrator, someone who read ahead. Someone who could connect the themes and let her know what genre she was living in. She saw three road kill today. The squirrel was decapitated. The raccoon surrendered to death in position of prayer and the bird still had his wing spread with the wish to fly.

Tonight was only one night. Tomorrow would be a new day. Tonight was only one night. Research, and investigation. Inspiration. Tomorrow there would be no more slacking. Tomorrow she would start. And she knew it was true. She knew it was true because more than she wanted she was holding a pen.

She had read about the heart of pride of King Hezekiah. She had mentioned church at work. She wanted her heart to be clean. She was tired of being American. So she called and left several thousand messages. Several thousands hellos. Several thousand lakes were born and several thousand dreams were rising to the surface. Air Condition Movie theatres. Diving into the pool or the ocean. Driving until she hit the border of the state or the country.

She had given away a pen today. A heavy pen that lit up in dark places. She gave to a man who said, oh that is a nice pen. It was indeed and it came with an ink refill. But she never used it so she knew she should give it away.

Typing inkless pages, she breathed. She breathed. She was not testing God's promise she was living it, despite her american tendancies that wanted to stay on the fence. With her feet of the ground so she wouldnt get muddy. She would wear sandals. Hop of the fence and know that God was with her. She wish she had remembered this earlier when she was at the church picnic. She wish this knowledge would dispell her of every fear and commonplace desire. That word itself felt as dangerous as fire. She, with her God's hand upon her, could. She plowed through the end of the novel, wiping away the tears so she could keep reading. The noise disappeared absorbed by the indian reservation being released from the page like a captive from jail. She wanted to write. So why was she going out?