Chapter 11: Stars

I walked along a path of stars
and found a patch I thought was ours
but in my mind I couldn't see
there was no place called you and me.

Chapter 12: Moe Underwater

Moe had always wondered what was at the bottom of the swimming pool.

He had attempted before -- no, not attempted; almost attempted -- on several occasions, wading into the water like a duck waddling ashore, but he had never really seen the bottom. From a bird's eye view, the pebbles beneath him looked uncannily like beady black eyes, staring up at him as if from out of the head of some humongous aquatic beast. They felt slimy under his toes as he waded, feeling the water gradually submerge his legs, his torso, his mouth...

... but Moe had always turned back before that point.

What if it is a monster? he wondered, staring naked at the pool. What if it is, but no one's been brave enough to really find out?

This could be Moe's great contribution to history.

With a deep breath and a quick shiver, Moe sprinted towards the edge of the pool--

Chapter 13: It's a Wash

It's a Wash
a silly poem
by me

It's a wash when we josh
About silly things like diamond rings.
What lovely stones and hefty loans!
But it's a wash when we josh.

Chapter 14: The Girl in the Picture

The Girl in the Picture
a melancholy poem
by me

She isn't the girl in the picture
Not that one.

Sometimes she stares at her
When no one's looking.
Sometimes she stares.

Her eyes are green
Not hazel.

Her hair is brown
Not red.

Sometimes she cares with her
When no one's looking.
Sometimes she cares.

She isn't the girl in the picture
Not that one.

Not that one.

Chapter 15: The Door

The Door
a metaphysical poem
by me

and through the room there was a door
and through that door there was a key
and through that key there was a world
and through that world there was a mind

Chapter 16: Introducing "Never-Never Girl"

The first draft of the novella is no longer posted on this blog.

As of 8/10/09, the story has been accepted by a publisher; it should be available for purchase (in expanded form) by 8/10/10.

(updates will be posted regularly)

Love,
C.L. Kimmel

Chapter 17: The Color Wheel

The Color Wheel
a wistful poem
by me

Trapped in the painting
The girl looks out
Did a man put her there?
Or did she let her wandering mind
So full of dangerous ideas
Draw her into the color wheel?

She cries for help
But silently, for
Colors stifle her bell-like voice
She chokes on shades of pink and blue
Who is this child
Whose life has been tainted by the color wheel?

But she is no child
For a child could have found a way out
A child could have woven a tapestry
From the myriad of colors
Swimming around him
No, she is no child.

Help me, she whispers
Drowning in magenta rivulets
Help me swim ashore
Back to the place of my birth
To the world of gray real
Help me.

But there is no help for her
She is a victim
Like so many perfect beauties
She is lost
Forever trapped in the painting
A victim of the color wheel.