Worthing Flash

Lavina Blossom lavinadblossom@gmail.com               He allowed himself to be strapped into the back seat. His torso was now firmly attached, which was what they wanted, to hold him down. He gave in to it. They said, relax. He tried, although the belt was tighter than necessary. And why just the torso. What of his limbs, what if he was jostled around so sharply his brain impacted his skull. That could happen to babies shaken too hard and it could happen to old men. And his neck, what about that? He had a long thin neck, few muscles to protect the upper vertebrae. He would have liked to protest now, but it was too late. They were in motion. He supposed that he would soon find out if this was enough protection, given the rapidly accelerating thrust of the car, his son-in-law pretending he was in a race. He must believe this belt was enough, even though he had doubts, which were rising in proportion to the speed they were g...

A roadrunner, camera shy, sneaks off into the underbrush just as I spy it. Except that one day when I was out with my camera photographing the various outcropping of rocks, the winding trails and curves of land, weird arrangement of broken grass or trash left in the undeveloped area above our housing development. This was before the hundred homes erected over the last few years. The place where this occurred, not bulldozed yet. I was snapping shots in one direction, turned around, and there was that roadrunner standing quite near on a rise. I slowly raised my camera—digital—took one photo and another as the bird turned one way and stopped still, hearing the clicks, yet not connecting them to me. It took a step one way, pivoted, confused. I continued taking pictures until it gave up—outwitted, probably by the configuration of stones all around, ricocheting sound—and performed its usual disappearing trick. by Lavina Blossom  Lavina is primarily a poet and painter, living...