Story of Rope Hook and Stone

Alone again late, Sally sat at the the laminex table in the hotel room out of I10 on the way through Texas.  It was warm outside and the sun had set some time back.  The phone rang and Sally let it ring for a bit before picking up.

‘hello’ she said.

‘Hi Sally this is John.  Just wanted to let you know I went there, you know, to that place and the cellar door at the bottom of the stairs.  Locked it was.  Couldn’t open it.  Sorry about that. Left the key there.  What do you want to do ? ‘

‘Don’t know.’ said Sally putting the phone down.

Sally sat there feeling tired.  Her face looked fine but then tears started out tracking down and fell onto the table.  She tried to think but then thoughts scattered and she fell into a sleepy lake in the moonlight outside.  An own skidded past silently but screeched down on an eel in the lake and hooked it out like a wet writhing rope with its talons. The own screeched off in the night but turned and came around low over rocks at the side of the lake.  The eel snapped at a stone as it dragged along the shore and suddenly became heavier. Stretching the eel, it suddenly ripped the stone from the earth and the own sped off into the sky. Suddenly the water of the lake felt warm and salty. Sally stood up and walked to the shore and lay down on the sand.  In the morning she woke and grabbing the keys from the table, she went to the shed and picked up the rope and drove out to the house where John had been.  Opening the door she saw a massive hook in the wall to the left, and the stairs down to the cellar at the right. Stretching the rope of the wall hook she flicked on the light and went down to the cellar door.  There was the key as John had said.  Sally tied the rope to the door and went outside again.  Grabbing the rope she remembered the eel and the stone and pulled till her back hurt and the door gave way.  Rushing back in down the stairs she saw a small rock of serpentine greenish gray on the floor just inside the cellar. She picked up the stone and felt all her troubles flow into it.  The troubles created by the stone in the heart of the man she loved.


The Letter

Tersiiska Chambord WindowThe window was the aperture this evening.  Around him though, the room was dark.  The darkness made it infinite in size because it’s warm walls were inaccessible in the silence.  On the ceiling the fan bumped at each rotation. Some rustling from it’s air by her letter on the table. He’d eagerly opened it’s envelope in the light of the day gone past and now stood there and watched out the window as the world got dark in the dusky haze of what he had read. Waiting for some revelation to stream through and enlighten his spirit.  Listening the ocean waves organized the sound in a kind of crashing on the beach below. She’d gone now, so it read. Back to the other side of that enormous ocean. The crashing waves emphasizing the letter’s inevitability.

What was the window without her,

when the home had borne her smile and tears.

Years she had spent here looking out

 and stroking the sill with her fears.

How much starlight through that window would come before that moment when it’s nightly spell would splinter into her laughter and dance when she might return and prove the letter wrong.


photo : Window at Chambord : Used with Permission from Flickr:Tersiiska