Soulfest

Broken Vessel

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Abandoned on the kitchen counter with a long stick penetrating its stitch, her heart hammering a gas pump, taps with rage for being brusquely woken. Towering without permission, desecrating and feeling like an angry beast, she throws herself at the deep hole frolicking her frenzy hair to shelter her angst. Pricked by a nail and boosted by a cylinder, there came the jaded neon light rocket propelled grenade jetting through the falling meteorite. White flag on hand, she thunderly hails to the Android screaming peteously but snubbed by the passerby and succumbed to fainted hair-raising winks, she squelched gently into a crawl, conceding to the shattered trek.
©️Angela Aguiar

Gaivota

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She woke to the sound of the timber, loud and clear as if trumpted by the clock calculating the dear departed. It ran in obscurity, obsessively slow, solicitously mutating, taking a life of its own. She thought it was the town snake, snoozing its way through the mud; perhaps, the eerie dwarf across the street spreading a cheaper version of the salad dressing recipe to the residents but it wasn’t. Legend is, it wasn’t even a story but as clear as mama’s homemade grits: the old weasel, the security guard, drunk as skunk, snoring his hearts content as he slept.
©️Angela Aguiar

A Passing Sentence

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When the world seems lonely out there and you just want to curl up under a sheet and let time go, to realizing it caught wind of a passerby and stalled. Nothing happens by accident. All have a purpose. One may not know today but in due time it will be self explanatory, a blur, a passing sentence on a embellished article. A story within a story of an interesting journey.

©️Angela Aguiar