Thunder-head

I. Mathematical Shadows

 

The people I went to high school with

weren't really people,

they were ghosts

 

I went to high school with hallways

full of shadows and ghosts

 

When they laid down to sleep, they didn't dream, 

as ghosts don't dream of other ghosts

 

nothing passes through their minds,

and nothing ever happens

thunder clouds moved slowly through their minds

 

 

Mathematical shadows

lay across across the floors of our hallways

 

 

 

II. Darkly Lit

 

One time, in high school, we broke into an old abandoned house. My friend kicked through the door, and a beautiful plume of dust arose and curled up into the air. It arose like a ghost, and we thought we could see a spirit in it, the spirit of the lady who used to live there, but it vanished. We smoked cigarettes, and drank beer, and we spilled beer on the carpet. We wondered if the ghost of the old lady who died there would then arise, and chase us out with a broomstick.

 

My friend knocked out a board that was covering a window, and the bronze fist of the sun punched its way through. Streams of god-like sunlight illuminated the dust, and it lingered silently for a moment. For a moment, there was silence, and there was only thought. As we stood there in the slinece, I swore I could hear the thoughts of the people around me.

 

Darkness threw shadows onto the field, and our shindig slowly morphed into a night party. The darkness rolled across the sky. Lightning Bugs and the fire in the yard were the only glow that lit us. We wandered around, under the gigantic and dark summer sky. The bow of the dark summer sky was slightly illuminated at its edges. And you could smell the wet grass of summer, even through the dark.

 

Autumn was rumbling in. Darkness spread and spread, until it enveloped everything. Like a splotch of black ink spreading across a sheet of white paper. A single solitary ember crackled from a Tiki lamp and trailed up to the heavens. Somebody said that Maura was on her way to the party. There, I promised to tell her that I was madly in love with her. I would do it. I would just do it right there, all among the musty shag carpets, the fire-smell and the spilled beer. I never did, though, and she just left for college that Autumn. Like a ghost she vanished, and was gone.

 

 

Author's Note

This is a tale of the teenage years. It is meant to have a bit of a gothic feel of a vivid red rose on a black background. The beauty in the dark, as it were. I like for some of my writing to have a "dark and clear" feel to it.

Reviews

[Glen Yumang Manese]

I see you did a poetic theme into a story line of a narrative to accent this read of yours to the audience...and the whole conclusion seems to fit together...thanks for the invite...just busy with my copy writer work and my RR's just keep piling up to an above the water mark...I'm sinking to catch up...

[Samuel Pennell]

Glen-Whenever you want is fine with me! -Sam

[Glen Yumang Manese]

thanks for understanding...the next few months will be busy for me...

[Jack Wolfe]

Poem first: This struck me as an outcast looking in, but not in the present sense, but as a reflection of ones past experiences; the people are ghost, the hallways are full of ghost, why? The answer, when the narrator looks back on that time there’s no memories, no long-time friends, just a blur of faces, nameless occupants to a dismal memory.

lay across (,) across the floors of our hallways

I’m a bit conflicted as to how I should review the narration; you have the contrast of light then dark, the ghost of a woman, hence the ghost of a lost love . . . a premonition in sorts, but your timeline is bit abrupt rather than bleeding in. I understand this is more for artistic and poetic favor, but from a prose perceptive, it has the elements, but it’s a bit constricted. I did enjoy the read, and the metaphors, but I would have liked to have seen it a little more elaborate, just my opinion. You do have a talent for word-shaping, an ability I enjoy, so I will look into your work in the future. I hope this helps some.

[Samuel Pennell]

Thanks for reading, Jack. I think your observations are interesting. I will take them into account. I thought this piece had kind of a gothic feel that it seems is prevalent in some of your work. I appreciate the read.

[Great Aunt Astri]

You write very well and get the feeling across . Good descriptive writing.

[Patricia]

I love the poem and even more so the prose. It was very well written and held my interest throughout. A very strong write, with a delicate hand. Sometimes we writers tend to overstate but you did this very well. You are really a talented writer. :)

[Samuel Pennell]

Thank you Patricia! God bless you and thank you very much. It's great to hear that you think I'm a talented writer. I take that as a huge compliment, and it means a lot to me. Please feel free to read my other works, and comment on them.

[Patricia]

You are welcome and yes I will read more as my time frees up. :)

[Samuel Pennell]

Thank you!

[isiah_holmes]

A very interesting a vividly detailed and interesting work here, i loved how i can relate to what was being said since im still in high school myself. Thank you for sharing

[Astro]

I enjoyed the scene very much as it flows from the natural to the supernatural and from desire and disappointment. There were a couple small issues with the writing accounting for the amount of people involved throughout. Also, the statement about the people being shadows and ghosts doesn't seem to connect to the next part when the speaker is talking about having friends to me. I mean, at first it sounds like the speaker is an individual who is an outsider, or different somehow than the rest of the school which makes it odd when the next part talks about friends partying. I like the end and how the missed opportunity of asking a girl out ties into the 'ghost' theme though.

[Marie]

It does have a certain gothic beauty to it...

The past can't be held...it wafts away from our clutching fingers like the ghosts we remember...

[Michael G. Smith]

Was there an hallucinates going on as you walking through the hallways at school?

[Samuel Pennell]

Haha! No. May sound like it, though!

[Samuel Pennell]

........it's one big metaphor there, bud!

[MandaBear]

I know my high School days felt like this sometimes lol Great write as always

[Samuel Pennell]

Thank you Manda! I really appreciate your reading.

[TL Boehm]

I found this so relevant. I think the only thing I got out of HS was me. It was much like a four year haunted house trip. Well penned. This piece is highly atmospheric and there is a dark beauty to it.

[Samuel Pennell]

"A four year haunted house trip." I think you nailed it. A haunted house ride......but with real people.

It is good to hear that I achieved the "dark beauty." That was what I was going for-I like that you picked up on it!

[Shane Mohamed]

This is great my friend. It is not a poem though. It sure is a fabulous story. There are good poets and great story writers, and you my friend, I believe, have the edge in story writing. ditch the poetry for now. Based on the imagery and the elaboration of speech I've seen you'd made a heck of a short story author or novelist. Best of luck to you.

[Samuel Pennell]

Well, I sure love the poetry. I appreciate the compliment, but I don't see it in the cards that I'd ever ditch the poetry. It all comes out at an even rate. Although I have thought about pursuing more of a career as a short story author. We'll see here.