Meg Sefton's Blog, page 8

Baby

Death of Childhood by A-dep, flickr

A woman had a baby inside that cried of its own accord. The baby was kept secret and quiet. But one time at the grocery, the woman thought of how no one wanted her and the baby’s cries erupted so that she had to abandon her cart and flee.

Innocent

LIBRE AFRICA by Danor Schtrutzman, Public Domain, flickr

Everyone at the high school knew that to open-mouth kiss Reyah at the Halloween party would be committing social media suicide. But newcomer Angel, innocent of the knowledge, kissed her by the pool. What no one knew was that Reyhah had leukemia. After that night, no trace of it remained.

Luxuriate

Water sheet by simonrumi, flickr

On Halloween, Mirabella sat on her porch, luxuriating in the sound of the fountain beside her new Florida garden apartment. Then she noticed Trick or Treaters walking through the cascade despite the pond’s depth. Something was off. Later, they woke her, their creaking bones and cries, their feral selves—hungry.

Exhausted

Florida Fish and Wildlife, flickr

Down the center of the peninsular state, the tropical climate briefly withholds its sauna so a few exhausted leaves of august trees may die in their golden glory. Yet the fanfare is ignored amid the ravenous, eternal green, impatient heat, marauding winds—the energy of youth and growth and destruction.

* This is one of last year’s Inktober pieces. I thought it especially apt for this year, given the totality of Hurricane Ian’s destruction in Southwest Florida. And in general, from Central Florida on down, Florida’s “Fall” is not what it is in other states so these words are quite apt even if we escape a hurricane’s devastation. This past week, I’ve been a little distracted and though I think of ideas for Inktober, I seem to be more focused on more essential tasks. Still, there is nothing more satisfying than to post something, even a replay. Have a good weekend. —Margaret

Found

Valentine (SdC), Public Domain, flickr

It would be years later that he remembered the shift. He had found a murdered woman’s body beside the Central Florida river, sprawled on the autumn wildflowers. Having called the police, he admitted to his father at the campsite: “People are not what I thought.”

Switch

photoshop experimenting by Aziza K., flickr

He began noticing how many kinds of birds there were when he could no longer throw the death switch. This circumstance came about when a murderess, softened by his ministrations on her last day, thanked him profusely. And that’s when he knew: She had seen his true self.

Inspired by Werner Herzog’s Into the Abyss

Hatchlings

Girls School, Hudson Valley, Rana Xavier, flickr

At night, we said the things to each other we wanted to hear our mothers say. We said them in motherly tones. In our beds, while we fell asleep, we felt cool fingers in our hair not belonging to anyone. We slept to an owl hooting beyond the moon-spilled curtains.

Florida

Florida Memory: Child Petting a Cat, circa 1880

On Halloween, Granny makes celery casserole while we play in the woods, the old Oviedo celery fields. We play with the ghost children as the cheese melts and the milk softens the stalks. Under the moon, Papa fiddles while Granny dances on a door to make the ghost children happy.

October

Photo by Kamil Kalbarczyk on Unsplash

We sit on Cocoa Beach to see you rain silver in the Draconids.

We tell you of the time we saw albino deer, remind you of the time you were Lawrence of Arabia in Egypt.

Mother is lost to us, but knows you are here. She wishes you Happy Birthday.

Jakayla

Child’s Grave by elaine, flickr

Jakayla cried when the white grandparents removed the cross where the baby’s body was found. Jakayla used to lay flowers there on her way home from school.

Juniper told her the white mother murdered her, then hid her body.

Jakayla could have babysat. She could have made the baby happy.