MIXED MEDIA STORYTELLING
Farmers Josh and Jane Hill of Keep It Simple Farms say that now their chickens are back they don’t need cats. May 14th 2017, a pair of bald eagles abducted Silky and Bo, their young hen and rooster! Turns out the bald eagles had lost their nestlings to a mountain lion and in their grief flew away with the poultry, only to adopt them and raise them as their own! Continue reading “Newsflash”
There are witches who live-
In the woods
Also crossing busy streets,
They weave their way
Between city and field-
Both good and bad
Like that one on the black bridge,
Our grandmothers and aunties warned us,
She sucks blood and eats young children
Grabbing girls with jagged claws
Nailing boys with curved toes
Pulling them to her maw Continue reading “Fiction”
The paper boy hums merrily as he tosses rolled up tubes bearing the news casually, with a slight flick to his wrist, toward doors. He doesn’t notice the broken window at 11-B, simply throws the newspaper barely breaking stride and goes on, doing his job. Continue reading “Paper Boy”
Clad in faded jeans and a checkered flannel, where green and blue travelled in straight lines, his paisley cravat was an odd sight with its curled wisps of purple; reminiscent of years of yore when gentlemen sported ebony canes and shiny black top-hats that they tipped up slightly in greeting before settling down to sip whisky while ladies flipped tiles, busy at games of mahjong. Continue reading “Slow Mo”
He wondered what to grow in the small plot he’d turned over. It was a pleasant sight, clods of dirt mounded up in tidy squares; he watched worms wriggling as he gulped water, splashed his sweaty face. The sun had long since burned away all dew, it was on fire. Continue reading “Plotting”
Rainmaker dances, a wild electric dance, she courts thunder to come clap alongside her, she calls her sisters to join her trance.
There are four rainmakers dancing, their electric hair streaming wildly white, black eyes flashing as feet pound minty music.
The sound of rain pouring comes, thunder claps loudly, and black clouds roll their eyes. They blink and tears stream down, showering daily.
Grasses lay on their side beaten, thunder rattles raising rooftops until the hairs on Mothers arm stand on end. Continue reading “Raindance”
Start at the beginning with Part One, Masala.
Haldee Raam and I drove back the next day. He received a phone call from his daughter, who having returned home from visiting the graveyard and finding him gone, had simply called his cell phone.
“Such a smart girl my daughter!” Haldee Raam exclaimed as we headed out of Baseerah, “Must have inherited from her mother, didn’t even occur to me to call her! Imagine, here we’ve come all the way to Baseerah to look for her, but she’d gone to visit the qabristaan! Continue reading “Moo Meetha”
A short while after Khizzr had told me Zuljabeenah’s story, I stopped in the market for naan and noticed the upstairs windows to Haldee Raam’s shop had the shutters drawn. He was outside with a bundle by his feet, clicking locks closed on the metal pull down doors to his store. To my surprise his eyes lit up when he saw me, and picking up his bundle he came bustling over to the car.
Continue reading “Mirchi”
The camel kneeled and backed up before settling down under a date tree where Rizzaq climbed off from the space behind her hump. His rump was slightly sore from sitting on the camels back for weeks, travelling into the desert where Ilaalat, The Lady of Flowers, tended to her grove. He stretched out and removed his pack from the camels back, then handed the rope tied around her long neck to her handler, a boy by the name of Ammar, who led her away.
Continue reading “Momo”
