Sleepovers

BrockaMusic, Poems, Relationships, Short StoriesLeave a Comment

Her house is the house. Anyone can show up; anyone can stay. And that’s the draw. But more have shown up this time than ever before and it’s a bit overwhelming. Elbow to elbow, full of body heat. Loud. So loud. Between the energy of the crowd and the bouncing music, the house can appear as if it’s pulsing. She runs through the rooms making sure people are keeping their shit contained. How the hell does she always wake up to a clean house after these parties? They respect! They are not allowed if they don’t. She scolds with the quick. The house is small and she runs a tight ship. She cracks the whip, ‘Empty your ashtrays! Throw your beer cans … Read More

BrockaSleepovers

California Cool

BrockaHealth & Wellness, Relationships, Short Stories, TravelsLeave a Comment

The airport is small and local. She exits into a sunny side of life, inhaling smells of lilac and lemon trees. The clean pavement reflects gold rays back to her as she makes her way to one of the few waiting taxis. There would only be a few. It’s about a twenty-minute drive to the house, and after exiting the freeway, the neighborhoods lining the coast all seem private, secluded. The houses are individually wrapped by bundles of trees and beds of flowers. Something ideal. The driver turns off one of the winding roads onto a small gravel patch. The crunch under the tires announcing her arrival. A gathering of trees line either side of an iron gate. She gets out … Read More

BrockaCalifornia Cool

In the Rain

BrockaRelationships, Short StoriesLeave a Comment

I had barely arrived at the hotel before being whisked away. Anticipation and trepidation. I had come from a meeting, right off a flight, wearing business slacks and such. After freshening, I opted for jeans with a blouse and cardigan. I threw on some slick new trainers, because shoes always elicit your attention. I also figured practical was best; not knowing how much walking the evening would entail or how cool the weather would turn.   The hotel had an old-world aesthetic and regality, but the carpeted stair runner had a musty smell under each step. A once-over with the vacuum would spruce it up, I thought. My senses seemed to be moving back in time as I descended to the lobby.   You … Read More

BrockaIn the Rain

Watchers Watching

BrockaShort Stories, WorkLeave a Comment

I’m leaned up against a concrete wall in a breezeway waiting on a gust of wind, the momentum it could bring. I’ve been scoping out a place. It is late day and there’s finally a lull in foot traffic at this tony restaurant bar across the way. The last of the lunch crowd left and the happy hour regulars haven’t yet arrived. I parked my recognizable car a ways-away and then walked to a hideaway spot; prior reconnaissance. I’m hanging out and hanging back. I love watching people, and I can always spot the ones who consider themselves to be hyperaware of their environment. It’s in the eyes. Some people are really good at taking it all in. In the same … Read More

BrockaWatchers Watching

Fire Damage

BrockaHistory, Short StoriesLeave a Comment

I have many stories around the themes of fire and smoke. The fears of being burned or catching fire; the costs to items and to lives; the lingering smells of fire damage. Memories can return with the strike of a match.   The master bedroom sits at the end of a long, carpeted hallway. The door is always left wide open, except for bedtime. One has direct sight into the room. In front of a window, a standing bust is situated between the foot of the bed and the closets. Draped on this headless mannequin is an off-white, vintage Victorian wedding dress. Close inspection reveals exquisite lace work, intricate layering, and detailed pearl beading around the neck and down the arms. … Read More

BrockaFire Damage