Haiku Attempts 7 - Haiku Story Response Sequences & Response Haiku
Global Haiku • Millikin University • Spring 2008
evening glow— Suzuki, LH, 70 She set the steaming bowl of soup at his usual spot and waited anxiously for the familiar sound of keys rattling in the door and footsteps leading to the kitchen. The summer sun was just about gone from the sky, leaving a faint evening glow coming through the open window. It was the same routine every night—she would begin dinner around 5 p.m., pouring through her mother’s old book of recipes and cutting the portions down to serve two people, rather than a family of five. “Soon,” she thought as she smiled to herself, “I won’t have to cook the recipes in half. Soon, there will be another mouth to feed!” She always had dinner ready and waiting by six, when, like clockwork, her husband would come through the door, set his briefcase down, and give her a gentle kiss on the cheek. It was the same thing every day, but she enjoyed the comfort of this routine. Today, however, she knew that the news she had received would be greatly affecting any sort of routine that had been established during their year and a half of marriage. She began caressing her belly, thinking of the life growing within her. The clock kept ticking. Where was her husband? He was never late without calling first, and the phone had been silent. The steam from the soup had disappeared long ago, and the clock struck 7:00. That was when the phone rang—a shrill deafening ring that cut through the silence like a knife. It was the call that brought her world shattering down; there had been a terrible car accident, and her husband was in critical condition. She rushed to the hospital, only to find out that her lover had been paralyzed from the neck down. She could not believe this sudden turn of events! How could such a joyous occasion be shattered by one phone call? What was she to do now? She knew things would not be easy, but she was a resilient, independent, and determined woman. She would stay by her lover’s side until death do us part. She would raise her child to appreciate every moment of every day. Finally, the day came where she was able to bring her husband home. There was nothing else the doctors could do, and the prognosis was that he would never regain use of his body. Though he was now bed-ridden and out of work, she still insisted on maintaining her dinner routine. It was a comfort to her to have that one constant thing in her life, and she would not allow misfortune to get the best of her. She insisted on starting to cook dinner at five, and to begin eating as the evening glow of the setting sun began around six, just as if her husband was still coming home from work—not a moment earlier, not a moment later. It was her way of living her fantasy life, and for that hour in the kitchen, she would lose herself and her harsh realities as she cooked recipes from her childhood. When their baby was born months later, both her and her husband had never been happier. Her husband’s spirits dramatically improved, and he loved watching and listening to his little son crawl, talk, and eventually walk, although it was from his bed. Since the accident, she and her husband truly began to realize the little miracles around them, and cherished the time they had together. She loved being a wife and mother, but nothing brought her more joy when every evening, when the sun was merely a dull glow in the sky, she would be in the kitchen for her husband. steaming soup Alyssa Thompson • • • Love Cannot Be Paralyzed six o'clock cold soup clock ticking body movements ceased— my love for him new life... by Lindsay, Pat, and Alyssa Our group chose to write about Alyssa’s story. One reason we chose this story was because there was a lot of evocative phrases and images that we pulled inspiration from to write our group haiku. We especially connected with the ringing phone, the cold soup, the paralyzed husband, and the new baby. We felt that these four concepts made for an interested sequence of haiku. Therefore, we titled our sequence Love Cannot Be Paralyzed. • • • I really like the story by Alyssa, it is the same one that our group chose to review and write haiku on. I like this story because everyone can somehow relate to it. Maybe not in the sense of having someone close to you be paralyzed and the childbirth and such. But in the sense of something in life not working out quite the way that you wanted it too. But in the end you overcome the hardships that happened and find a new peace or inner balance in your life. hardships ugh life— Patrick • • • I really loved Alyssa Thompson’s story. I like how she sets the routine of the woman’s life in the beginning. She started cooking her supper at five and had it ready by six when her husband came home from work. It was her routine and her comfort in life. She enjoyed cooking all the recipes that she had from her childhood, but longed to be cooking the recipes in full instead of half of the recipes. She was finally going to tell her husband that she will be able to start cooking larger meals, because of the life growing inside her. Six rolled around and her husband had not showed up. She began to worry a lot, because he would always call if he was going to be late, and he had not called. She finally got a phone call that gave her news which she feared the most—her husband was in an accident and became a quadriplegic. She took on the challenge that laid before her: raising a baby and taking care of her husband. Although her life had changed dramatically, she still kept her routine of cooking supper at five and having it ready by six. This story shows the heart that a woman can have for her family. She could have been cold to the world for the events that happened in her life, but instead she rose up and lived her life with her family. The story is an untraditional happy ending. the world against me… bad events happen my husband watching Elise Wildman • • • I really like Alyssa’s story to her haiku. The reason why I really like this story is because it is easy to imagine what is going on. It is written as though you are there in that moment. She was so descriptive it was very easy to see the setting sun, the steam from the soup, and the content expression on her face.. Also it was extremely easy to empathize with what she was feeling or at least know what kinds of feelings that she may be going through at the time. I think that Alyssa’s story is a very well written story and since it has that unexpected change it makes the story complete. a good story the short night Amanda Aukerman |
lofty sky— LH, Suzuki, 106 On a clear October afternoon the long awaited day has finally come. He is so giddy with excitement he can’t wait for the train to finally come to a stop. Seconds seem to take years to pass until finally he can see her. He races over to where she is getting off the train to take her bags, never wanting her to strain herself in the littlest way. As soon as they meet their love is reunited with a strong passionate kiss. He has planned out the entire weekend of things for them to do but most of all he is just excited to see her again. As they leave the station, hand in hand, they just can’t seem to take their eyes off of one another. The hour-long car ride to his house goes by way too quickly. They never run out of things to talk to and even when they stop talking they are able to just sit there in a comfortable silence. That evening the go to a romantic candlelight dinner and just seem to talk the night away. The next day it seems as though the weather couldn’t be any more picture perfect. He has made the plans for them to take a stroll through the park and then have a relaxing picnic in the park. Since he knows that she loves Broadway he has gotten them tickets to the matinee. Surprising her once again he pulls out the tickets without her knowing what to expect and then even suggests that they can go shopping until the show starts. She can’t even imagine what a better day could have been. By the time that night has arrived she thinks that she nothing could be even better than what it has already been but he takes her to a five star restaurant only to be followed by a horse driven carriage ride around the town afterwards. Unfortunately it is Sunday morning once again, their fantasy weekend has regrettably come to an end. The surprises are almost over yet he has one more surprise up his sleeve. They go to a little coffee shop and develop all the pictures that they had taken that weekend. It seems as even though it has only been one day; however, there are so many memories that their past weekend will last until they can finally meet again. They finally had to go back to the train station where he will see her goodbye and with a tearful farewell they will be separated once again. the train starts to go Amanda Aukerman • • • I chose Amanda Aukerman’s story to respond to. The main reason that I selected her story was how she created a fairytale romance of two people so deeply in love. The ideal romantic weekend is something that is rarely pulled off in books or movies, so the fact that Amanda had it end happily is one reason that I enjoyed it. I love the idea of a man so in love with a woman that he doesn’t get to see often, and going to extreme lengths to plan the perfect weekend with her. Perhaps my favorite part of this story was the anticipation that Amanda created at the beginning of the story. I love her haiku at the end with the man jumping on the train to kiss her love goodbye and then leaping off as the train starts to move. This short story about two people in love really helped brighten my Wednesday! weekend getaway Broadway surprise Lindsay Scully • • • My favorite haiku response was Amanda Aukerman’s story of the weekend the lovers had to spend together. I view the weekend spent doing all the events mentioned, but also a symbol that stands for all the weekends that lovers would ideally spend together. Someone may like basketball more than a play, a switch that his or her significant other would be more than willing to accommodate. time together cloudless skies the blur we embrace Matt Chmiel |
lingering daylight- Suzuki, LH, 86 There were once two goldfish, Tui and La. They resided in a pet shop and lived in a bowl with blue stones beneath them and a green plant above them. Tui was a male and was colored with orange and black scales. La was his mate and she was colored with orange and white scales. Each day at dawn and at dusk the pair would do a dance where they would swim around each other slowly, weaving in and around one another’s fins. One day, two gentlemen came into the pet shop and each wanted to buy a goldfish for their child. The shopkeeper explained to the gentlemen that Tui and La were his only goldfish and he wished to sell them as a pair. Both men wanted to buy them both but could not decide who had the right to do so. Sadly, the shopkeeper scooped Tui and La out of their bowl one by one and split them apart to the two men. Tui was taken home to be put into a tank with several other fish. They were all small, dark fish that swam back and forth within the tank; constantly pacing from wall to wall. Tui was the only fish in that tank to move freely of his own accord to explore his surroundings. When Kiyo, the gentleman’s son, arrived home he was excited to see the addition to his fish tank. He admired Tui’s glittering orange scales amidst the dark of the other fish. But like any young boy, Kiyo became quickly bored with watching Tui swim around went to receive his birthday presents. That was why Tui had been bought for Kiyo, as a birthday present. La was less lucky. She was taken home to a girl named Hana. The girl was four and deeply loved the beautiful goldfish shimmering like a jewel in the round bowl. Unlike Tui who was curious about the ornate tank he was placed in, La was lonely and bored within her simple, glass prison. She did not swim around; she merely floated along the bottom deep in despair. Kiyo was very excited after receiving his birthday presents, one of which had been a live turtle. Kiyo’s father had said he could either keep the turtle or his fish, but not both because the turtle would have to live in the tank and would probably eat all the little fish. The young boy eagerly chose the turtle over the fish because he could play with this pet. The next day, Kiyo went to school and asked his classmates if they were interested in adopting some of his fish. Several of them accepted and came to his home later that day to claim their fish. The first child to arrive immediately chose Tui as the fish she wanted and rushed home with him. In Hana’s room, La was still very lonely. Even more so since the little girl who had been paying her attention had gone to school. In the afternoon, La noticed that the girl had returned and looked up at her expectantly. The girl was acting strangely; she had her hands behind her back and was smiling. Carefully, Hana emptied the contents of a clear, plastic bag into La’s bowl. With a small plop, Tui appeared in the water beside La. The two fish swam close to each other excitedly. Noticing that the sun was beginning to set, the two fish began their dance. Hana was very pleased that her new pets were happy and made sure to take care of them until they dance no more. goldfish pair Andy Jones Overall, the story was just very sweet, very cute. In some ways reminded me of Finding Nemo. At the begin I was a little worried for La because she was given to a little four-year old girl, whom I was afraid would end up killing the poor little fishy. Then I was worried for Tui because I was afraid the turtle was going to eat him. It was a good use of suspense, with a satisfactory, and happy ending. The girl's actions were well described and absolutely adorable at the end. One of those stories that make you all warm and happy on the inside. hidden prsent through clear glass Aubrie Cox I chose Andy Jones’ story because when I finished reading it I kind of started to cry. This story was so beautifully written that it hardly took any time at all to read but when I was done I was left with a clear feeling. I believe this story illustrates that if something such as a relationship is meant to be it will be. Even if it seems like all is lost and there is no way back it will happen if it is suppose to. This story really gives me hope because over the past year and a half I have felt very hopeless in the relationship department and so it is really nice to read a story like this where all hope was gone but it worked out in the end. windy winter day… harsh winter night… Nick Chivers • • • I really liked Andy’s story about the goldfish. When it comes to love, most people think about humans because other animals can’t feel love. That’s what science says, but who actually knows? However, it is fun to anthropomorphize animals and write stories of them being in love. I think that the story is very cute and it is absolutely perfect that the goldfish end up together in the end. fish kisses Nicole Zabrinas • • • I liked Andy’s story to this haiku because it played on a different side than the one I previously saw. In Andy’s story, he treated the haiku as the reunion of two lovers in a bowl, while I looked at the other side of the statement relating this haiku to humans saying they will forget about each other almost as soon as they meet. The thought of literal fish with this haiku being the end of the fish fairy tale is a much better story than I thought of! beautiful sky reunited Jason Chmiel |
hazy spring night— Suzuki, LH, 83 Above, the sky expanded to a sea of colorful lights and muted, hazy, orangey night sky. The smoke lazily drifted upward to escape from the cramped alleyway. Sounds of a bustling metropolis drifted in and was retaliated with a vigorous, lively kitchen and chatty regular customers; somehow, the latter seemed to win by a long shot. Above my head was a bare light with moths flickering about the light, continuously hitting up against the glass, bouncing back, only to be so fascinated that they dove straight back to begin the process over again. Their battered wings fluttered relentless, just like their actions toward the light. My eyes watched them for a few moments as I took another drag on my cigarette. Nice enough night out. My hand moved out of habit, removing the cigarette and tapping the loose ashes from the end of it. The wall against my back felt warm, but not enough to cause my clothes to stick to my skin. That would probably change in a month or so. But for now… Well, what would become of things in a month, I was unsure. I had been before, but the crinkled paper in my left hand made the sinking feeling all the worse. That funny feeling in my chest--some may have argued it was the cigarettes--bothered me, as it often did when I found these little notes, came out here, and smoked a couple cigarettes. For it being busy everywhere else, it was certainly quiet in this spot. All except for the burning of tobacco and the soft tch, tch, tchtchtch of the light above me. I was seeing spots still from looking directly up into the light too long. Greens and yellows rimmed the black, wanning dots. Another weekend alone, another weekend to myself. I had plenty of things to do that needed to be done, that would take up the weekend and then some, many a thing that could be done around here. Cleaning in the apartment, could catch up with a few old friends, some business related acquaintances. …but that did not mean I did not want to see him, to be with him . . . These notes seemed worse with each time, but this time in particular…Some would have argued that I need not smoke so much; they were probably right. I think I heard someone say my name from inside, but all I did was unfold the note one more time to read it. The yellow paper had been crinkled, folded, smashed so many times since that afternoon that edges have begun to wear and words had begun to fade away. This time, he won’t be back.This time it won't be just the weekend. The longer the notes, the longer he is away. A moth landed at my feet, twitching, flapping its tattered wings uselessly. It rolled over and over and in a circle, struggling to get back on its feet, and more importantly, back up in the air. It hit a few glowing, carcinogenic ashes and jerked away, spiraling the rest of its life away into the shadows of the alleyway. He had kissed me in this exact spot many times. I lit another cigarette. lukewarm brick Aubrie Cox • • • My favorite story was by Aubrie Cox. She wrote about a woman (I pictured Masajo Suzuki) who is standing outside of her pub in the middle of a big city. She’s leaning against a warm brick wall smoking a cigarette and thinking about the man she loves. That day he had disappeared, leaving nothing but a note. He’s had a habit of doing this but she knows that this time he is never coming back. I loved all the rich details in this story and I could feel Masajo’s emotions coming through. crumpled paper orange sky Jessica Villarreal |
no escaping it— Masajo Suzuki In my mind this haiku creates a story. The story starts with a young man who has moved to a new town. He’s in high school and has become friends with many of the other students. Then he sees a girl and instantly falls in love. However, many of his friends say that they, and many other male students, have tried to go out with her but never succeeded. He still talks to her anyway, and slowly they become friends. Then a little while after that, they begin to become more than just friends. Some of his friends become more persistent, and keep telling him to not even try it. He ignores them, and a little while later, the two are dating. Again, the same set of friends object to him going out with her, and tell him to end it. He quickly stops hanging out with those people, and he makes more friends who support his relationship. The couple is incredibly happy, they go out to do things all the time, and the student believes that he has taken the right path. One day while they are both walking through the park, that changes. While they are sitting on a bench they begin to argue. The arguments ends with both of them stomping off and going home. A day passes, and they both have a child’s stubbornness, and refuse to admit they were wrong and say sorry. After school that day, the boy is doing his homework thinking “I’ve done nothing wrong. There’s NO WAY I’ll apologize first.” Immediately after he gets done thinking that, the ground shakes. He immediately gets out his seat and goes to see what’s going on. Before he can get to the door, however, a massive shake knocks him off his balance, and he slams, head first, into a wall. When he finally wakes up, he realizes that he is under rubble. Pushing it off and standing up, he realizes that the city is in ruins. The unknown disaster had annihilated everything. Then his heart stops, and he thinks “Is she alright?”. He goes for his car, but realizes that it’s not only totaled, but he doesn’t have the keys to get in it anyways. So he goes by foot. Going through the city all he sees is destroyed homes, mauled power lines, and other people who were less fortunate then him. He stops for a moment, and before him, he sees on of the people who had told him that his relation ship would never work out. He shudders, and takes it like a grim prediction of the future. After walking through destroyed streets and over the destroyed fragments of the city, he reaches the park where he and his girlfriend got into their fight. He walks through it and arrives at the center of the park, and thinks “alright, I’m halfway to her house not much further to go…” Then he pauses, and realizes that he hasn’t seen any other survivors. Not one. He begins to panic “what…what if she’s not there…what if she’s already…” His whole body tenses up and he keeps trying to not think about it, trying not to finish that thought. Out of nowhere he suddenly gets a feeling of resolve, and thinks “there’s no running away now, I’ve got to keep going. I’ve stepped on the rubble of this fallen city and I have to take this path…even if it turns out that she’s not at the end of it.” With this newfound energy he goes to run out of the park, but his eyes meet hers. She’s standing at the exit to the park, staring at him. After a few moments of stunned disbelief, they run into each other’s arms. Without saying a word, they both forgive each other for their foolish stubbornness. After some discussion, he finds out that she, just like him, dug herself out of some rubble and was going to his house to see if he was safe. Together, they both head for the exit of the city to look for help. never knowing Brett Coffman • • • their eyes meet— she is without his wheels— the argument in the park tragedy— Just in time... by Michelle Dixson, Lauren Robertson, Brett Coffman & Gordon Gilmore • • • So, I really liked Brett's haiku story (we even used that one in my group!). I especially liked the fact that he kind of based his story off a video game. For example, "they both head for the exit of the city..." Its as if they just completed the level and are leaving for the next one. I found it very easy to understand because of that...I also realized that I have played WAY too many video games in the past that are RPG's since I recognized the point of reference. Story Inspired Haiku: jump jump play Michelle Dixson |
autumn meditation— Suzuki, LH, 107 When thinking of this haiku, I imagine myself in the future. Through all walks of life we like to leave little pieces of ourselves to be remembered in our sibling’s lives, but more importantly, to improve the lives of our kin. When reading this haiku, I envision myself in the future with my children on the beach. As the leaves are falling, we make our way to the sandy beach. Once we get to be beach we spend the whole day playing in the water. We find a cool spot to sit where the sand is still wet and start to build a castle. Together we construct a beautiful castle and play in it bringing the medieval times back to life. We are being careful to shape the walls and castle turrets perfectly so we can take a picture for mom. We continue to play in the water and perfect the castle until the sun starts to set. At this time we look at the beautiful sky and I explain to my son why the sky looks the way it does. At this time, the water almost takes on a mystifying appearance because of the way the last rays of sunlight bounce off it. At that moment I grabbed my son’s hand and walked to the line where water meets dry land. I gently take my son’s hand and carefully press it to the wet sand, along with my own, to act as a seal on the beauty where magic meets reality. We carefully make the handprints to show all five fingers and empty shell where the finger had been. With magical hands Jason Chmiel • • • I personally enjoy this haiku story because it reminds me so much of my family. Every summer, my family, on my mothers side, gets together for a large family reunion. My mother has three sisters. They are the most beautiful, loving, amazing, and talented women I have ever met. Over the years they have managed to keep the family together by holding these annual summer gatherings. Most years we are somewhere near the coast and we always try to make a trip to the beach—our family has a fascination with the ocean. When we do make it to the ocean we always spend hours there, frolicking in the sand and in the ocean waves. "Body surfing" is Aunt Marilyn’s favorite pass time, and she always gets the rest of her sisters to join—these are 50-60 year old women body surfing in the ocean. Believe me when I say it is a sight that makes you happy to be alive and these women make you appreciate life and see the beauty in every moment of it. One the other things that sticks out in my mind about these reunions at the beach is watching the young ones in the family play with the sand and experience the beach for the first time. Seashells and seagulls fascinate their young minds as they mush their hands in salty pools of beach sand. Each year we seem to have a new addition to the family so there is always someone experiencing the beach for the first time and it is such a gift to be able to share that experience with them. There is something about the ocean that brings a sense of comfort to me, and I’ve found that whenever I am near a body of water the love of my family seems to surround me just like it would if I were with them on a reunion in the summer. small hands body surfing Kersten Haile new cousins family reunion family reunion |
winter mist— Suzuki, LH, 74 It is a winter night and I am awoken by the sounds of my dog, Lucky, who needs to go out. Sighing, I put the leash on her and step outside. There’s a slight mist in the air and it hits my face, but I do not flinch. As I stand outside with Lucky my thoughts start to drift back to the previous winter. That was the year of my first love, Matt. It had all started when we met in our freshman English class. Our teacher was a fan of seating charts, and since Matt’s last name started with the same letter as mine, we were seated next to each other. We introduced ourselves, but didn’t really say much to each other at first. Then came that fateful day when he wore a Less Than Jake t-shirt. Less Than Jake was my favorite ska band of all time, and of course I had to let him know. He seemed shocked that I even knew what ska was, but it didn’t matter. After that we started talking a lot. By the time the semester was over, we had become friends, and I hoped we’d become something more. As I take Lucky back inside, my thoughts flash forward to the night in February when I found out that he liked me too. We had been sitting on my couch watching Lord of the Rings. We’d hung out before but tonight there seemed to be a special vibe in the air. Matt seemed nervous for some reason, and was talking more than usual. In the middle of the movie he started talking about the painting of the Last Supper above my TV. He got up to point something out and as he sat back down he put his arm around me. I leaned into him, and that was all it took. After that night he became my boyfriend. Now my thoughts were flowing much faster as I remembered some of my favorite moments with him. First I thought back to one of our first days as a couple when we made brownies. I remembered how he surprised me with a kiss when his dad left the house and how he almost forgot to add the eggs because he was having too much fun dabbing my nose with the dough-y spoon. This reminded me of our first kiss ever, when we were downstairs in his basement. We had just finished watching The Breakfast Club and now a show about gangster guns, of all subjects, was showing on the History Channel. I thought about how we liked to go on long walks together and go to the park and swing, toes touching the sky. I remembered how we could talk for hours on end and never run out of things to say. Finally my thoughts settled on a night when we were standing out on the beach, just holding each other and watching the waves. We had been standing for a long time without saying anything at all. Then he told me that he loved me. It was such a perfect moment. the first I love you Jessica Villarreal • • • Our haiku sequence tells the story of a girl’s first relationship, from the first time she and a guy meet to their first “I love you.” First Love first day jitters next to you— first movie Frodo gets a ring making brownies the first I love you by Amanda Aukerman, Andy Jones, Erin Knott and Jessica Villarreal • • • I chose Jessica Villareal's, and the reason isn't because I connected with the image of her and this Jake character (I've never really been the best with the ladies...who woulda thunk it?) It was the image of her walking her dog Lucky out in the mist. This image of water and dampness was evident throughout the reaction. The primary paragraph section had the misty night, and the haiku at the end had ocean spray. It's all ambient water that you can breath in. walking smell the water Gordon Gilmore |
hazy night— Masajo Suzuki, LH, 67 The night has finally come to an end, and I am alone in the bar. It’s time to close up Tables and chairs are scattered about, and a few napkins have been left sporadically on the floor. The wet rag in my hand is dripping with suds and I begin to scrub the bar counter. Making my way towards the tables I pass the jukebox and press a few buttons. Frank’s voice carries me through the evening as I dance about picking up chairs, trying to make the room look suitable for the next evening. I hate the nights that I have to close a lone; something about this old bar has always given me a chill. Al, he’s the guy that runs this joint, is always telling me about old Madeline the widower. He tells me that the nights he closes she’s always up to mischief. Madeline used to spend ours in the bar. She dressed herself in drapes of pearls—both black and white—and her ears were drug down by mammoth size emerald earrings. She’d tell us of her many husbands—Frank and Gary were nice she’d say, but Tom was the one that threw her over the edge. Truth be told none of us really know what she was talking about, or if Frank, Gary, and Tom actually existed, but she was company, and a conversation with her would make any slow night fly by, so we listened. Then one day she just stopped coming. I figured she'd gone on vacation or had found another lover of sorts. But Al seemed awfully worried. He had known Madeline for five years now, and shed never skipped out on an evening at the bar. After a week went by Al reported her missing to the police. They thought he was a bit nutty, considering he’d only seen her at the bar, and knew absolute nothing about her except for the fact that her name was Madeline, and that she had three ex-husbands: Frank, Gary, and Tom. But the urgency in his voice must have convinced them because they began an investigation to find this old woman… Four days later they found her out in the alley…murdered. That all happened about two years ago and most nights I don’t think about it. But on these nights, the nights that I have to close thoughts of Madeline always creep into my head. Who killed her? Was it Tom, the one she swore was trouble? Or was she really so troubled that she decided to take her own life? I really didn’t know, and the police never found and leads on who would have committed the crime, so eventually they dropped it. Once I finished scrubbing the tables and had throw the glasses into the wash I went for my keys. As I went to the backroom I heard a clanking followed by a scream. I tried to shake it from my head, tried telling myself it was just me freaking myself out. But the blood had already started rushing from my fingers and I was starting to get light headed and terrified. I turned the corner and grabbed my keys, my coat, and bolted for the back door. Yanking on the back door I swung it opened and then quickly slammed it shut once I was outside. I jangled the keys in my hand trying to find the right one to lock up. My fear was making my hands shake and my vision blurry so this simple task had just become as difficult as a triathlon. Finally I got the right keys, shoved them into the key hole, turned them, pulled them out and ran as quickly as possible to my apartment in the dark night. As I ran I was certain that someone was following. I picked up the pace and made my way through the fog. Reaching my apartment I leapt for the front door and closed it shut behind me leaving all my weight on the door for a good five minutes while I caught my breath. Madeline had been following me home. I knew it. And she wanted something from me…but I wasn’t sure what. dark night… Kersten Haile • • • Kersten’s story Madeline’s killer sudsy rag stalker— hazy alley my company by Aubrey, Nick, Daniel, and Elise • • • I really enjoyed Kersten Haile’s story about the strange woman who always came into the bar, and then was found mysteriously murdered. She even took the story in an unexpected direction by turning it into an eerie ghost story at the end. I absolutely love ghost stories, so I was automatically drawn to her particular tale. I like how she took a love poem and turned it into something haunting. Her story was not at all what I would have imagined from this particular haiku, so I was greatly intrigued to see how she made it work so well. She vividly describes this woman, and uses great sensory imagery. emerald earrings jukebox alone in the dark cold corpse— she will always remain Alyssa Thompson • • • I like this story because its like a mystery. I like how the author set it up by giving information about all of the characters involved. Then it describes the process of how one of the characters was found murdered. It ends with the main character feeling like he was "chased" home by the murdered character. This seems to give the story an opened ended feeling. I feel as though this is just the first chapter in a mystery novel. she talks of men— she stopped coming Brett Coffman |
evening glow— Masajo Suzuki, LH, xx I think that in this haiku, the husband is gone and so the woman keeps reflecting on what she would be doing if he were still here. She goes through her day and no matter how hard she tries not to think of him, everything she does reminds her of him. Because her life is changed now, nothing she does is the same as she did before. Because of this, she thinks about how everything used to be and wishes that it could go back to that way. In the morning, she wakes up in her bed alone. She is used to him being next to her when she wakes up. She is also used to making enough coffee in the morning for two people, but now she only needs enough for herself. While she measures out the coffee grounds, she is reminded of him just because it’s different. Now she goes to work and although she is used to being there without him, she thinks about going back to an empty house after work. There is nobody to call while on lunch to make plans for dinner later. She will probably be eating dinner alone. After work, she comes home to an empty house. It is quiet and cold. There are no warm greetings or promises of someone coming home to spend the evening with. There is such a difference between one and two. It is the greatest difference there is. The difference between being alone and with one other person is tremendous. The difference between two and three or three and four is not so great. Although a mathematician wouldn’t agree, this woman realizes and can feel the great difference between one and two. She makes dinner alone, eats dinner alone, and watches television alone. Her days go by slow and she just hopes for the next one. She wishes for the love that she has lost and doubts that she can find anything like it. At night, she goes to sleep alone, and again, she is reminded of how different it would be if he were here. This woman’s world is turned upside down from the absence of just one person. She has friends, so she is not always alone, but the one person who was always there is now gone and there is nothing she can do to get him back. All she can think about is what used to be and wish for it to return to normal, but knows it never will. laying in bed Nicole Zabrinas • • • These haiku are a response to Nicole’s story she wrote. Her story is of a woman who has recently lost her husband. Each day she relives old memories, and continues to struggle over her loss. In the beginning over these haiku the woman is waking up and remembering her husband. She hears sounds and smells aromas tha were always there when her husband was, yet now they still linger. As her day goes by she grows increasingly lonely, up until she tries to go to bed. Although unsuccessful at first, she finally gets to sleep with the memories fading out ready to return in the morning. Still Here your aroma your morning shower your cup of coffee alone in the house creaking stairs lights out by Nicole Zabrinez, Matthew Chmiel, Jason Chmiel |
without regret . . . Suzuki, 70, LH Bob sits in a bar contemplating. Bob is contemplating because Bob has terrible luck. Bob’s girlfriend of three years dumped him on their anniversary, he lost his job the next day because the company he worked for got taken over, and because he could no longer afford the rent of the condo that he was renting he had to move across town to a bad neighborhood and is currently living in a disgusting flat. So Bob is sitting in a smokey bar contemplating his life. Thoughts of why didn’t I do this and why didn’t I do that run through Bob’s mind. He drinks another beer. As the bartender pours him another mug Bob tries to clear his head and try to move himself back into reality, into the present. In the end though Bob can only think of the past and the what ifs…. glasses clink in a smokey room Pat Thacker • • • I liked Pat’s response story. His take on the haiku was so stereotypical of the wino. I could envision a Barney Gumble-esc man sitting on a bar stool in a dingy bar. The amber colored beer is running down the sides of the glass mug. I can also picture the peanuts and shells littering the polished wood of the bar. Pat’s take on this haiku had me stop and wonder, why was someone in a bar drinking beer a bad thing all the time? So I reread the haiku and thought, well, maybe living without regret meant that the person had chosen to live life to the fullest and enjoy life. The image changed then to a classier establishment where the beer is dark and served in those glasses that get wider towards the top without handles and the beer foam is cut with a knife like that weird commercial when they unhook a train’s bar car. what if… Andy Jones beer foam cut with a knife |
© 2008, Randy Brooks • Millikin University
All rights returned to authors upon publication.