Inspiration 7.0

[Boss Radio]

CP: Lyrical, haunting and beautiful imagery. You are a poet, but in a good way.

EH: Brilliant, dark and disturbing, like a modern-day Twilight Zone episode.

MBC: Dashboard confessions on a quest to liberate your youth in the form of a bear. Superbly realized.

LSPE: Absurd and lovely and a little sad...and a juggling act with all those characters in such a limited venue. Excellent, inventive, and my current favorite of your work.

SL: A one man experimental minimalist film festival. Ingenious.

Great work,everyone!

One day soon, I will contribute again. I just have to finish something first...

[Cadaverous Pallor]

BUMP. Get in those Inspired posts!

How about if I post a new inspiring photo in a few days? Maybe a week?

[Tom]

In my teen years, I lived down the street from a cemetery, but I never visited it. It was at the terminus of the road, about two blocks from my house, but in the other direction was my school (less than a block away) my town, my friends. The whole flow of my life was in the other direction, and so I never went to the cemetery.

Until one day. One grey day, early February of my senior year. I had no school, my friends were all elsewhere for the moment, and I decided that I finally wanted to see the cemetery. I walked up the road and entered its grounds. I was alone there. I walked among the headstones, all of which were of the flat variety, plaques embedded in the ground. Neat, evenly spaced rows. There were none of the giant crosses or statuary, none of the more exuberant kinds of headstones. It was a very well-behaved cemetery.

But as I approached the periphery of the cemetery, I found that it did not all seem well-tended. I saw a section that, from a distance, appeared to have been trashed. There seemed to be debris lying around. I approached curiously.

The headstones revealed that it was a corner of the graveyard set aside for the burial of babies. None buried there had lived more than a few months. Some had died the day they were born.

The "debris" was items that the families had left at the graves. Balloons were deflated and laid limply on the ground. Stuffed animals were ratty and smeared with mud from melting snows. I realized that they must have been set out at Christmastime, now a month and a half distant. They were scattered about now, by animals, people or weather I do not know.

But no one had removed them. I guess no one wants to be the one who takes teddy bears from dead children. So they laid there. I don't know for how long. I never went back.

[Motorboat Cruiser]

Tom - there is such beauty in simplicity. I couldn't help but feel that your story didn't need one word more - or one word less. It is perfect just the way it is and I loved it.

[Boss Radio]

Well done,Tom - stark and insightful.

[Strangler Lewis]

"I guess no one wants to be the one who takes teddy bears from dead children" is one of the best lines I've read in a while. Good job.

[Cadaverous Pallor]

Damn, Tom, that was great.

[blueerica]

I actually have something... I am finishing it up and should have it posted by tonight. I'm trying to confront a little fear inside me that it's not good enough to share, but I need to get back on the bike with this one.

[blueerica]

I could choose only one, so I left them all behind. Of course, this was years ago, but the whole thing has been a little hard to forget. Anytime I see a stuffed animal, especially bears, I’m instantly transported to the age of six; instantly lonely and fearful. The two feelings, or emotions – or whatever you call it – have been a part of my life as long as I can remember. This isn’t to say that my life’s been so horrible, but things could have been better.

When I was really little, my father was around. Well, I guess I mean “around” rather generically. I remember him being there at key points and not much else. Then again, who really remembers the day-to-day minutia when they’re 26, 16, or 6, or any other age for that matter? I certainly don’t, but that’s not at the heart of what I’m trying get at, I suppose. I know he wasn’t around, and my not remember is only a reinforcement of what I know of my life at that time.

Miss Jenny was kind; sweet, to the point of being saccharine. She said she’d take care of me, and she did for a while. I remember when she showed up with the CPS officer – it seemed like everyone was in a hurry. I could only bring one toy.

Mom hadn’t been home in a couple of day and I was hungry. That’s all I really know. What I’ve figured out since is that she went missing and that no one has a clue. It’s been 20 years, and still no one knows what happened to her. Not entirely sure how that happens, but – maybe it was for the best that I was young; keeps away the hurt. I remember her standing at the stove making macaroni and cheese. It’s the simple stuff out of the blue box, but there was something about it that made me feel warm, loved… maybe she just threw in an extra pat of butter.

So yeah, I could choose only one, so I left them all outside; the stuffed animals, that is. I remember a week after Miss Jenny brought me to her house that it rained. I left them all outside. I figured I couldn’t choose and that since everyone liked playing with me and the animals that it would be best to leave them all there. Maybe someone else who could keep them would take them and take care of them, just like Miss Jenny said she’d take care of me. I lived next door to this pizza place, was it George’s? I really don’t remember, except for the G, I’m certain it started with a G.

Oh yes, did it ever rain. I wonder if anyone ever came by to take the toys before it got all wet. A month after I left I came back with Miss Jenny and I remember seeing that the animals were gone, but so were the chairs and the little flowers that were starting to grow. I remember feeling bad that I didn’t get to really say goodbye to some of my school friends; it all happened so fast. After a month with Miss Jenny I went to Miss Suzy’s home where I lived until I was 19. They never found my father, and I told you all about my mom. Miss Jenny sent me cards every year, but I never heard from my old friends again. Maybe it’s my own fault that I never let them know what happened, but I know there’s a big part of me yearning to remember just a little bit more than a box full of stuffed animals I left outside.

[LSPoorEeyorick]

Oh, Erica! That was lovely, and achey, and an excellent read. I'm so glad you posted it.

"I know there’s a big part of me yearning to remember just a little bit more than a box full of stuffed animals I left outside." - a perfect ending.