Maria Scott Herndon: Fabric Of Being

  “ Well, Al, I see you’re still wearing sweats.” The brothers had somehow managed to score a corner table at Starbucks. Zig leaned forward, one hand clutching his soy latte, his legs crossed at the ankles. Lounging against the window, one arm slung over the back of his chair, Al fingered the drawstrings of his tan hoodie. “I like it,” he shrugged. “It’s warm.” “You've been wearing that since the eleventh grade,” Zig pointed out. “You need a new outfit? I can buy you one.” Zig’s own wardrobe consisted of a gray sport coat with burgundy lining, gray vest, and navy scarf, all of which might as well have had the tags still attached. “It’s not about the money, man.” Al reached across the table and picked up his caramel mocha. “I just like it.” Suddenly, they heard the sound of a loud car horn. Zig glanced through the window behind Al and saw a stretch limo attempting to turn onto Sunset Boulevard. Other drivers protested this maneuver, as did a throng of pedestrians. “How about the exe...

  Painting by Vasili Aleksandrovich Kotarbinsky She walked to the edge of the lake and stared endlessly at her own reflection. She made numerous faces, trying to find herself again. She did not recognize any of the faces staring back at her. She had become her own stranger. When did it happen? She wondered. She sat down on the nearest rock and continued to stare at this stranger. The face that was staring back was the face of a failed woman, sad, unhappy with the choices she had made. At first, this woman was demanding, an action taker, then just as sudden, the face changed into a sad pathetic shell of a being, and she pondered how she’d gotten here. She had it all once, the whole American dream… then one day, it just vanished. She has no memory or awarness of it happening. does not remember it happening. It was all gone. She was alone, for the first time in her life and she had no clue of how to start living. She had lived in other’s shadows for so many years. She had lost her ide...

Illustration  by  Priscilla Burris It had been twenty years, she realized as she slipped the key into the lock. Twenty years since she left this place, this house. His house. Oh, she had been back for visits, short visits, and every single time she approached that door she felt the same icy shiver invade her heart and spread through her veins. Why had she thought this time would be different? Cassie was the oldest of three girls born to James and Lorena Trent. She was a big girl, had always been big, even as a child. Tall, with big bones and dark hair, she was completely different than her sisters. She always stood out, never fit in. Christine and Cathy were petite and large blue eyes shone out of their magnificent faces. When they were little, blonde manes floated as they flew into the air, out of Daddy's arms. They would squeal and laugh when his giant hands grabbed them back and folded them into him, one and then the other. Cassie was too big to throw. Later, they were athl...

  Inspired by this  painting  by  Evgenia Klimenko She sits quietly listening to the sound of the train approaching. The brakes screeches as it gets closer. Her eyes set upon the man sitting against the cold tile wall of the station. He slowly and deliberately moves a tiny piece of cloth along the saxophone in his hands, marred with the scars of time. She watches him as the smooth sound of a beautiful melody fills the station, dancing along the breeze that comes with each passing train. The melody fills her mind. She is acutely aware of his refrain transforming the station. She watches a scene of beauty pass before her.  She tries to imagine the man's life before this time and place. Maybe he was an honorable father, with a loving family, or maybe, she thought silently, he once was a hero, a man who fought valiantly for what he believed in, a war or a cause. The man is quiet and hardened. He seems weary with a sadness behind the bluest eyes she had ever seen. Ye...