“Mam, you need to have your papers ready, and please, if you don’t mind, remove your hand from my table.”
Allie, who was noticeably ripe and well past exhausted, slammed her other hand down and clamored, “Help me, for christ sake, please”… then her bloodshot blues rolled up to all white, and she collapsed.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
Shill, the loyal man who worked this seaside immigration seat for more than 30 years as part of what you might call a welcoming committee, looked at yet another girl, with another story, with another…
“Hi, my name is Allie… I just got off that rickety damned boat and I need someone to show me a quiet place where I can think.”
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
Allie, who hadn’t known a blip of happiness in more than 6 years, crept towards the poorly shaved attendant that was seated and staring at all of the new arrivals.
She walked up to a monstrous, scarred oak table, slammed her soft left hand down on dirt and despair, and figured she’d ask what she needed to do to be a citizen. {my God, I just don’t know, was that what I needed to do}
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
She found herself looking about as if she did something wrong, yet the not so timid Irish expatriate stepped onto American soil with a subtle, eyes down hopefulness.
Back… there, was a well made stone and sweat ziggurat that housed an intimidating hulk, a true Skellig Michael man, who neglected at the last possible minute to inform Allie that her daughter might not be dead.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
During the battering storm, Anna and Sadie were playing, truthfully tossing, a 99 cent Wal-Mart ball back and forth on a small splotch of saturated lawn in front of their parents coastal home.
A quarter of a mile beyond the splash zone, an old wood-stapled pub opened on time with a below average drummer setting up his cymbals on a small smoke-beaten stage.
Photo: Michael Roads
Written by Edward Roads
(Continued from Mytwosentences 168)
The walk toward the cab was slow, actually umbrella in the wind discombobulated, but Preston pressed on with eyes wide.
The clomp of his backward progress seemed similar to that of Frankenstein’s monster in a cool movie he watched only yesterday…then he saw the thing that would change his life.
Written by Edward Roads
(Continued from Mytwosentences 167)
After looking up at a rolling quilt of a sky, he immediately took off toward the annoying and unexplained sounds of his new backyard.
As Preston ran upon the matted and long dead grass of his side lawn, he caught something unsettling out of the corner of his eye… the taxi that dropped him off was just sitting there.
Written by Edward Roads
(Continued from Mytwosentences 162)
Preston moved mummy-like, shock was turning his already sketchy palate to a slightly chewy dust, toward the vacant spot where unmet Mick wasn’t.
As he knelt near the lush green of his missing next door neighbor’s perfectly manicured lawn, another sound, what was this three or four now, boomed from his yet unseen backyard.
Written by Edward Roads
The new home owner turned and extended his hand, but was only greeted with the tattered, unright air (of a god forsaken place) blowing in it’s own rhythm over an unfamiliar space.
The yet unmet next door neighbor had suddenly become nothing more than a crusty off-white handkerchief sitting without purpose on Preston Tapley’s thirsty front lawn.
(Continued from Mytwosentences 161)
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
Preston released the tight grip he had on the key and let it fall to the bottom of his left hand pocket.
He took in a deep breath, puffed out his cheeks like a blowfish and blew out a long current of audible air before deciding it was time to turn around.
(Continued from Mytwosentences 160)
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
Mick had stopped and was standing bug-eyed amidst the overgrown straw of a long forgotten front lawn when he started to feel funny.
As the sweat began to surface, he pulled a crusty handkerchief out of his back pocket and haphazardly patted his furrowed brow.
(Continued fromMytwosentences 159)
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
Preston was about to slide the not so shiny brass key back into his sweaty pocket when his diminished periphery caught sight of someone.
That second sound, the one that gave him a spine wriggling shrill, was wearing on him as his glazed attention finally began to focus on Mick and his unbrushed teeth getting closer.
(Continued from Mytwosentences 157)
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
While strangely stretching clouds continued to fold upward, Preston started a nondeliberate step toward the massive chipped red door of his newly acquired house.
As his shadow began to draw long on the brittle of his parched lawn, a second undefinable sound, seemingly from the backyard this time, widened his splintered eyes.
(Continued from Mytwosentences 149)
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
(He just arrived. Inform PICKERING)
All of his adult life clothes had been a systematic repetition of perpetual insignificance, but his hair, that was a different story.
He carefully styled his hair, not so much like James Bond, more like James Dean, if James Dean spent a little extra time in front of the mirror making a possible perfect a true perfection.
(Continued from Mytwosentences 148)
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
Distant birds disappeared into the sunder of gathering clouds as Preston centered his new bearings on a property that was finally his, really his, despite the turn of your back fact he shouldn’t be here in the first place.
His dress, which was the simplest collection of bland, whitewashed whatevers, was the very same linen threads he wore each and every day without ever once thinking about it.(Continued from Mytwosentences 147)(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
Mytwosentences 