Read the newest bits of this book on Ello! Click on over to ello.co/tvansantana and click #tvswow
I'm writing the experimental draft now. Compiling here intermittently.
All titles are here on Tablo!
The Secret of Secrets
Book 1: Everything Fails
Book 2: These Are The Things I Know
Book 3: The Grand Story Of KNot
Book 4: The Thieves Of All That You Are
Book 5: We Can Never Go Back
Book 6: Love Is What You Have
Book 7: Be A Dark Horse! or A Ministry of Ignorance
Book 8: The Stars Call Us Home
Book 9: T Van Santana & The Black Book of Fear
Book 10: untitled ("the tenth one")
An Axe +2 Grind
The Dark Side of the Light
Your Best Shot
Didn't Mean to Flash
--A singular focus provides many opportunities. That’s not always a good thing.--
I checked the doorknob. Jiggled it.
It was locked.
I sighed and made it unlocked.
The door creaked and yawned, showed me the room’s innards. Dust and books and broken chairs, set against once fine drapes now moth-eaten and plants gone stony.
I ambled through the scene without much interest. A billion times the same gave little satisfaction. Not exactly the same. There’s little differences. Like the color of the drapes. They were purple. I remembered them red, blue before that. And the titles of the books were familiar, the names of the authors, the look of the spines variegated in stages of breaking. None of that grabbed me.
On a shelf made from cinder blocks, there was a necklace. It’s shaped like an animal claw but made of stone. Topaz that time. No dust had settled on it. It gave off shiny newness, like it’s just for me.
I picked it up and held it in my hand, felt the coolness of the metal and stone and the heat from my body warming it.
Another story some twenty years gone came to mind. It was a frozen sandcastle that time, and it led to another world altogether. That used to be the way, most of the time. Another world altogether. Not so much anymore, not knowing that all worlds are really one and none.
I could just as easily have left the necklace. Or put it around my neck. Maybe I did sometimes. But then I stuffed it in my jeans pocket, walked out of the room, and shut the door, made it locked again.
The streets outside welcomed my shoes, gave little hellos to the toes and kisses to the heels. I smiled in the warm air, let it take my hair and open my blouse. I saw beyond the horizon, past the river, and through the future to where it would all end. It was okay with me. Just another Monday.