’til river do us part

a black river rolls its waters in state
past a dirty hut’s stoop and manor’s gate
a white nymphea on the satin river’s breast
eyes enthralled like a bride’s at a funeral fete

the young maiden stands on an old dam crest
folding a long wedding dress to her chest
a cold wind hugs her shoulders, her ideal mate
it whispers to her in feverous behest

a black river rolls its waters to the strait
aloof, indifferent, like the decrees of fate
the young maiden on the satin river’s breast
the hearse carries the bride to her wedding fete

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2018

Eugene (P.S.)

Hullo, dearest Writers and Readers,

It’s Tati. (Yeah, I’m still here and can speak too. Shocking news, isn’t it?)

Usually I prefer to stay backstage at Unbolt Me, hiding in my cozy, dark corner and letting Tony shine onstage to bask in the warmness of your love. But please, don’t think I’m indifferent to what happens here. I do care.

You can be sure that every day I open WP Admin with bated breath and fingers crossed. I bite my nails, in a state, wondering if you’ll love our newest post or hate it. I read every single comment. Do you still read and support us? Do you still want us here?

Well… Honestly, when I was writing Eugene I didn’t expect such great feedback. I thought it was just another story, just the next post on Unbolt Me. I was wrong.

Let me wholeheartedly thank all of you for every like, comment, and reblog. I felt your emotions and was truly moved by your sincere concern. That’s why I decided to write this post. I thought it would be churlish of me to keep you in the dark about this story. I decided to lift the curtain over Eugene and answer some of the questions that were brought up in the comments section.

Okay, so here we are…

Q: What I want to say to you I’m not sure you’d take well so I’m not saying it.

A: Hmmm… Why not, Crystal? Please, don’t hold it inside. I promise not to bite you.

Q: Great story, true, or not, or ‘based on’…

A: Dear Alli, this is a real story. I adorned it with some artistic details, but you can be sure that all characters and events are entirely true.

Q: You can’t leave us hanging like that! Did you meet him again?

A: Yes, Tanushka. I saw Eugene a couple of times after this. Once I saw how he walks. It really drags at the heartstrings. He’s so stripped to the bone, so weak. I doubt he can even stand without his crutches, not to mention walk.

Q: Did you ever speak to the man again?

A: Unfortunately no, Cher. I wanted to stop, but something prevented me every time. In the last few weeks Eugene hasn’t been sitting in his usual place—I think because it’s getting colder. I hope to meet him again.

Q: I hope Eugene keeps doing his embroidery for a long time.

A: Dear Kat and Ellie, I sincerely hope he will! He has a splendid talent.

Q: I’m sure Eugene is an inspiration for many people.

A: Katharine, I’m with you on this. At the very least, he inspired me to write this story. And it looks like it has inspired many people who have read this story. It makes me so happy!

Q: Maybe Eugene is a supernatural geezer as well.

A: I can bet, Artie, that he is!

P.S. The photo of Eugene in the original post was my own. I was a bit too shy to take it openly, even after we’d had a conversation. I stepped aside, pretended to look for something in my phone, and took some sneaky shots like a coward. Sorry, Eugene.

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2017

100 WORD SKITTLE // Push-Up

The road was covered with tits.

I stopped and took another look. An endless strip, double bulged on one side and even on the other, stretched to the horizon like a runway. I imagined the disturbed artist who frenetically draws tits on roads. Then I imagined how he runs on that strip, dives off the last boob, and flies away into the sky.

I looked up in hope… and saw a row of utility poles that were casting this odd shadow. I felt disappointed. Another story without a happy end

I stepped onto the first boob and prepared to run.

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2017

Testing, Part #1 (Fragment #30)

The desk was a scuffed, sordid blue. I love such things, you know. They’re better at telling you the story of an institution than all those dull, fat conduct books, and they’re more entertaining. For example, right here someone had ably depicted the birth process of star-nosed moles. I sniggered. Considering their knowledge of such ‘niceties’, perhaps it was a future Darwin Medalist. Although… yuck! I reached for a pen.

Twenty two, dolt! Twenty two, not nineteen! I hate giving a lick and a promise! It’s better not to do at all than to do something sloppily.

I was nearly finished coloring the corrected snout when I heard a semi-cough right above me. Yipes! I raised my eyes slowly, and saw the sheen of a badge: ‘Mr. Turdman’. I snickered.

“Follow me, young lady.”

I got up from the desk and dragged myself after the badge wearer’s podge.

Some lanky guy stood near the door and droned like a jammed record: “Please put your cellphones, tablets, and other gadgets into the basket. Please don’t use any electronic devices during the test.”

I shrugged my shoulders and fished my old celly in its scratched maroon sheath out of my pocket. I put it into the plastic basket, right on top of the shiny, posh smartphones. It looked pretty funny, as if a behemoth had decided to join the dance of the little swans.

“Hey, are you dozing off, bimbo? Stop holding up the line!”

His derisive tone brought me back to reality. “I may suck, but you swallow,” I thought reflexively. I stepped into the study amphitheater.

Question 1a. Compose a limerick using the following rhymes: town, nightgown, lock, o’clock.

I scratched my nape and looked helplessly about. Some dweeb with huge glasses to my left seemed like a promising prospect. This dork obviously knows what the hell a limerick is. I whispered, “Psst! You! Hey, you!”

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2017