Friday, May 13, 2011

Phantom Sister


Marlena comes to me on the cusp of sleep and wakefulness, when the world blurs grey. She soars through yellow-tinted waves, her bald shining skull pushing through water. Although she never speaks, she makes a gurgling sound, high-pitched like the bottle-nosed dolphins at the Aquarium. I look but never see her face. When I wake up, the bottoms of my feet sting as though I scissor-kicked through 100 laps. Those mornings I call in sick and sleep in the boat’s hold. The gentle rocking hugs me.

My twin sister Maria lives halfway around the world in the Catoctin Mountains. She paints and writes poems about trees. We rarely see each other but the internet tethers us. Maria has the same dreams about Marlena -- we think of them as visitations – but she feels the ache in her chest, the left side, a sharp pain like someone has plunged in an icy hand and wrested out her heart. Afterwards she also feels an uncommon, exhausting peace. We wonder if this is how we tangled in our mother’s womb: hands to feet to heart.

I find an old photo of the two of us, a college road trip to Baltimore. Our smiling faces squeezed together, the Washington monument towers behind us. I scan the picture, push send and the image zips to Maria’s mountaintop. Seconds later, she writes back. “There’s a hole between us.” I look closer at the photograph and my soles burn.





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My ultimate 52-250 Flash -- this IS Number 52. 250 words, every week for 52 weeks. Inspired by the theme: threesome.

Note: Writing this last flash wrought a lot of emotion, not because of the story but because of the journey. The editors of 52/250 -- Michelle Elvy, Walter Bjorkman, and John Wentworth Chapin -- put heart and soul into this endeavor and, in return, so did an amazing community of writers. So thank you.

The weekly exercise of writing concisely to a theme challenged me as a writer perhaps more than any other endeavor I've undertaken, with the possible exception of my novels. 52/250 was a glorious ride traveled with stupendous fellow journeyers, tremendous stories embodying excellent craft, and of course, the most superb guidance. I am not sure how I will spend the next 52 weeks, and I feel a bit bereft. Two novels to fine-tune, another waiting to be written, graduate school applications all wait, but I think my Fridays just got lonelier. Thank you to all who have read my little stories, commented on them, spread them through cyberspace. Peace...

18 comments:

  1. Holy wow. Great story. (Hugs)Indigo

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  2. That is a beautiful piece, Linda. Being the mother of twins, I worry about stuff like that. The connection between them is astounding sometimes.

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  3. Your story was FANTASTIC. So emotional and real. You did this every week for a year?? My hat's off to you. Bravo!

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  4. Fantastic linguistic foreshadowing, the internet tethering the separated twins, foreboding the third twin who was let down by the umbilical. Fabulous and with a real punch to the guts at the end.

    One of our twins actually lost weight in the womb as he was missing out on the umbilical dominated by his bro. We think his distress is what started early labour.

    marc nash

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  5. This is an incredible story. I could feel the third person as I read it. I love the duplicity of the word "soles" at the end of the story - was this also referring to the three "souls" involved?

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  6. Thank you who commented on the pre-Friday the 13th Blogger fiasco -- I did not even have a chance to look at your comments (end of the semester woes) -- boogers! Happy day, and peace...

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  7. This is beautiful, Linda. Around the time my son was born, a woman i don't know except via her mother was pregnant with triplets and lost one at birth. I've always wondered how the two (referred to now as "twins") will come to terms with that as they get older. I suspect it might go something like your story.

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  8. This was incredible. Great take on the theme.

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  9. Quite eerie and a great way to tell it!

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  10. Well done, Linda. I've often wondered about the connection between twins. This makes it a real feeling for the reader.

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  11. Rarely does something in your work seem so odd as the soles burning at the end of this. That's almost preternatural, and left me wondering about the piece. That's distinct for your writing, Linda. Peace!

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  12. A fascinating story, Linda. Little touches like "She soars through yellow-tinted waves..." and "We rarely see each other but the internet tethers us" really made it for me. This really had a dream-like quality about it. Well done.

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  13. "There's a hole between us..."

    As Alan wrote - a dream-like quality to this. Until it snapped sharply into focus with that line.

    Wonderful writing, as always, Linda. Congratulations on the 52/250 success.

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  14. This seems perfect for your last entry. The feelings of loss and companionship and more. I've enjoyed reading every one of your pieces, Linda. I've enjoyed being on the journey with you, even if it was sporadic at times. And I understand what you mean about the end.

    You know what they say about one door closing and all that, but feeling mournful when we face endings is right and healthy.

    But I for one cannot wait to see what your future brings.

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  15. That is a terrific wrap on a terrific project Linda. This is just beautiful. Sad, yes. But beautiful.
    ~jon

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  16. Really? That's it?
    Sigh.
    Suggestion: just because the challenge is over doesn't mean you can't continue to dazzle us with incredible stories like this one!
    And it is, dazzling.

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  17. Linda, there is so much gorgeous imagery in this, that seems to ride along with the poignancy with that gentle rocking you mentioned. Outstanding!

    I agree with Cathy - you could easily create your own 52/250, starting now. Please do! :)

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