crime and punishment

i have been reading crime and punishement. it is dark and cold and everynight i am left with the same
feeling. do i have to finish it? how did i make through it once before? why is he so familiar to me. oh
how i hate a great bad, bad book trully do i have to finish it?

a long stare

he was afraid to call out her name . he stood at the gate as she picked up the falling branches. he remembered everything about her now and he begun to shake he put his hand on the gate to steady himself. she noticed him their and slowly walked further away from where he was. she whispered his name and followed it with never again. there was someone new now, he could never come close to the kindness of this man. he had not been replaced but forgotten as he had hoped to be and if that was not the case every action proved other wise. she was surprised by her strength and how all the work had not failed her now she even paused to remember one moment of bliss but nothing came she had exchanged every happy memory for ten of the bad ones she had done a good job infact she had secretly thanked him for his cowardliness and for her own child stupidity. he knew now that she had seen him, he was sure that she would walk to him but soon he realized that it was best if he never came to her again something he had failed over and over again never being able to put her first and even though she had changed and did not even look the same for she had aged in such a short period of time covered her thin frame with more flesh then had been before.. he took one last stare but he cold not see her as she was but as she had been that day through the window. she did not look back again as she walked into the house.

the reader abandonned

there i was deep into the night my-living room feeling large like an armory, they left me. harry, penelope, charlotte they went off and lived happily ever after and did not turn around to see if i wanted to come along. It is as it always was for me and i am sure for many of you a time where you are coming close to the end of a book where you start to feel sad, not sad for the characters but for yourself somehow they invited you into their lives without objection. you smelled their cigarette as they lit it, you admired there dress you even swear you could taste the scone they where about to devour. you also cry for them and try to warn them. even when the book is put down you still think about them and can't wait to get back to them and you do. the end of the book always seems like the beginning of there lives without you in it...

the river

it took along time to get back to it. before we had even turned the ignition on in providence i was already on the kenebec. as we traveled down the turnpikes and the kids giggled in the back i knew that i was drifting. I had waited, wanted it, for far too long now. the scene played in front of me during bad days like a carrot and now i knew i would catch up to it.

we pulled in and i could barely wait for the car to stop, i was out. i hardly noticed the darkness. i pulled the tent out of it's bag and set it up at records pace, i heard nothing saw no one thought of nothing except what i came here to do. before i knew it i started to take off my clothes and as they fell onto the rocks, the kids and my husband stood in amazement "what are you doing" i heard someone say but i could not even take a moment to answer. i walked towards the moonlit river walked without hesitating till i was completely emerged, it was cold just as i imagined it. just how i needed it to be..