She said to write like this, not thinking about it too much and letting the story mind frolic in the fields of imagination, triumph and betrayal and all of it.
Not the easiest thing to do out loud – it’s a bold thing. Wait… what if I say the wrong thing?
Can’t I think about it for a minute?
No, because then the rain stops and the world dries out and stills to dust. What then, is there left for paint? (See what I mean?)
Loudly, she said, is how she writes and closes doors.
Wherefore then, my Miri Elm?
I waited too long to go look see. Too long to remember not to take it all for granted.
And now, she is gone. Quiet.
And I listen for the door.
But I don’t hear it anymore.
Wherefore art thou, Miri Elm?
A little tribute there to one of my absolute favorite flash fiction authors. So, here’s what happened. I was reviewing some old comments and came across something she responded to way back in 2017. I clicked on her name and it took me to this: https://ashortconversation.wordpress.com/. And the last post there was on January 18.
GASP! NO! I fumble through life, coming back to this dusty room from time to time to remember who I am and then I go over to read some Miri and she had stopped!
Which inspired the above. But, turns out she’s now over here:https://ashortconversation.com/.
Whew! She posted something in February of this year. Close enough.
But for a moment, I missed her, you know? You ever have that moment when you think something is gone and you’re sad because you hadn’t paid much attention to it for a while?
And then you find you had only misplaced it. Or it is still here, just in a different place. And you feel all better and the world can continue to spin in greased grooves.
None of us islands, my friends. Not a one of us. This person I’ve never met, her words racing through a wire, over to a switch and up to a router, then miles upon miles through a VRF (don’t ask) and across my lawn, up the cable and then to splash upon my screen.
How odd that a person would miss such a thing.
But I did.