Jeremiah's School of Levitation
Upsy-Daisy!
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Salvation
"Cool, clear water," is how the song goes and I never tire of hearing it because whoever is singing it is probably strumming on a guitar, all by themselves, or blowing on a harmonica in not quite perfect tune, but the idea is that there is some longing for water, but is it really water? This is my conflict. I am not sure if the singer wants water, or just merely something as simple as salvation. You can get salvation in water, especially if you are dying of thirst, but salvation can come in the strangest ways.
At the thrift store, near the skis, of all things, there sat a nun’s habit. It was dusty, which is what made me immediately think that it was for sale, and not something that a nun had discarded, making her break from the cloister in grand, yet subdued fashion, tossing her habit into the skis, genuflecting for the last time, and walking quickly out of the store, head down, hands folded. I imagined, since I was already on a roll of imagination, that she then went straight for a local tavern, where no one would know her, or stumble upon her, and probably would not ask anything about her long black dress.
I picked up the habit and turned it in my hands, looking for a price. There wasn’t one. I slapped off some of the dust and held it to the light. I was surprised to see some strands of hair hanging from the band. I looked closer at the hair. It looked red, or burgundy, then, in another angle, light brown. Was she young, I suddenly asked myself?
I looked up to survey the area. Only an old woman was nearby, fondling a rusted ice pick.
"Salvation," my head said. I still can't figure out why it said that.
At the thrift store, near the skis, of all things, there sat a nun’s habit. It was dusty, which is what made me immediately think that it was for sale, and not something that a nun had discarded, making her break from the cloister in grand, yet subdued fashion, tossing her habit into the skis, genuflecting for the last time, and walking quickly out of the store, head down, hands folded. I imagined, since I was already on a roll of imagination, that she then went straight for a local tavern, where no one would know her, or stumble upon her, and probably would not ask anything about her long black dress.
I picked up the habit and turned it in my hands, looking for a price. There wasn’t one. I slapped off some of the dust and held it to the light. I was surprised to see some strands of hair hanging from the band. I looked closer at the hair. It looked red, or burgundy, then, in another angle, light brown. Was she young, I suddenly asked myself?
I looked up to survey the area. Only an old woman was nearby, fondling a rusted ice pick.
"Salvation," my head said. I still can't figure out why it said that.
Elliot, 12:21 AM
4 Back at me:
I see the beginnings of a great story, a grand adventure, a journey of guilt of fear and discovery and sometimes sin. Aah, the places it would go.
"I looked up to survey the area. Only an old woman was nearby, fondling a rusted ice pick."
Deeply, deeply disturbed.
*shakes head*
Deeply, deeply disturbed.
*shakes head*
We really should go shopping together sometime.
And this MUST be the start of a longer writing piece. I'm hooked!
And this MUST be the start of a longer writing piece. I'm hooked!
I was curious to know if you bought it, but silly me. Salvation cannot be purchased.
