2 years ago
alywoah
in English · 1,057 Views
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Response To Flash Fiction: Showing vs Telling
@VinMcCarthy has set up a great prompt for showing through the words you write. Here's what I've written:

I can almost feel my memory, the frigid cold water gushing out from the fire hydrants, cooling our sticky bodies from the heavy heat. Summer was licked with grime, heat waves, and the lack of air conditioning. But the summers were times I could freely discover and play. East New York, known as a crime-ridden area of Brooklyn, felt safe to me. I knew my neighbors, I knew the owner at the bodega, I knew every kid on Warwick Street. We were a family.

Here's a poem I had written a long time ago:
SHE LEFT HER DREAMS MANGLED ON WARWICK STREET
---
The silence choked the room
Muffling the sounds from the
ticking hands that fingered the seconds on the clock.
Her dreams folded into the deep burgundy wine,
that slowly licked the insides of her veins,
sedating her thoughts.
She wanted to be somewhere else,
but she wanted to stay.
30 years ago,
she left her dreams mangled on Warwick street,
at the corner store that sold gummy worms.
She left the Flintstone’s push-pop on the counter,
and grabbed the bottle of whisky instead.
She made love to the rush,
but the rush became the hook
that gnawed at her ankles.
She wanted to be somewhere else,
but she wanted to stay –
she wanted to be where she could forget.
She wanted to forget the number 17,
and the fat fingers that stabbed her screams.
Her morning whisky silenced her wounds,
but just for a little while.
Just until tomorrow.
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