Trina: ‘In the Land of Tall Thin Shadows’

Trina liked empty cities the best and this is her best memory of New York.

She looked up, the Sun rose, partially eclipsed by a big black Moon.

Trina sat primly on the only bench on Queens Boulevard when she saw the shadow of a little boy skipping rope.

She quickly opened her journal and wrote, ‘In the land of tall thin shadows’

Then she pulled a piece of chalk from her skirts, dropped to her hands and knees, and drew a hopscotch court.

The shadow boy stopped skipping rope and came closer.

Trina stood. “Hello,” she curtsied.  “I’m Trina, and you?”

“I am a child of the Universe,” replied the shadow boy.

“I see.” Trina searched the ground for a small stone to use as a marker. “You have a right to be here?”

The shadow boy shook his head, “Maybe yes, maybe no.”

Trina laughed: “Did you lose your boy?”

“I think so. Have you seen him?”

“This is my world. No one comes here, not even shadows.”

“I don’t have a right to be here?”

“Strictly speaking, no.”

Trina found a stone and tossed it onto the court.

“What happens when you vanish?” she asked.

“I don’t exist.” The shadow boy replied.

Trina was appalled. “You stop thinking?”

“I think so.”

“How awful!”

“But I always come back when the little boy goes out to play!”

“Always?”

“Yes.”

Trina reached up and hid the Sun behind her big black moon.

Queens Boulevard went black and the shadow boy was gone.

Trina was sad.

She reached into her skirts and found a torch, then she opened her journal and wrote, ‘They sleep without dreams’

An Illustration of the Shadow Boy at play in a Bird Cage in Virtual Reality
The Shadow Boy

‘In the Land of Tall Thin Shadows’ (c) Rob Goldstein, March 2019

‘Shadow Boy’ (C) Rob Goldstein March 2019

Header Image from pixabay

I wrote this for the March Speculative Fiction prompt on Myths of the Mirror. You can join here: https://mythsofthemirror.com/2019/03/01/march-speculative-fiction-prompt/

 

Rob’s Weekly News Wrap-Up 02/22-03/01

update 03/03/19

I just learned that the formatting of this post got wonky and needed fixing.
My apologies for whatever it was that caused it.  The post looks fixed now.

This was a week of truth-telling and hypocrisy as Congressional Hearings opened on Wednesday with a day’s worth of public testimony from Trump’s former lawyer, Michael Cohen.

 

My take? GOP congressional reps don’t know who they work for or why they were hired.

 

Trump’s visit to Viet Nam with North Korea’s Kim Jong-un ended with the president looking like a fool when he left early and defended the brutal autocrat’s murder of an American citizen.

Friday opened with news of breaches of National Security at the highest levels of government because the President gives high-level security clearance to family members.

 

Oh yes, and Jussie Smollett:

 

On a personal note, it was a busy week, my podcast with Matt Pappas at Beyond Your Past went live. I’ve also upgraded my video software and other equipment so I have some studying to do.

02/22

 

02/23

 

02/23

 

02/24

 

02/24

02/25

 

02/25

02/25

 

02/26

02/26

 

02/26

02/27

02/27

 

02/27

 

02/27

 

02/27

02/27

02/27

02/28

 

02/28

02/28

02/28

02/28

02/28

03/01

03/01

03/01

03/01

03/01

 

03/01

 

 

03/01

03/01

 

 

03/01

 

03/01

 

03/01

 

 

 

 

Rob Goldstein 2019

 

Dolls: A Nice Little House

Peter draws a skinny little boy named Tony and puts him in a cell.

Tony is more like his Mother than his Father.

Tony is more like his Mother than his self.

A doll’s eye fades to black.

Tony’s cell is really a nice little house in a forest of pink trees.

These things sometimes happen:

A garden of morning glories never opens.

A dead bee stabs the sole of your foot.

A giant toad leaps on your chest at midnight:

all the months of August in a row.

Rob Goldstein 1985-2019

Dolls: He Calls the Hotline

Bobby has clearly had it.

He calls the hotline:

Bobby: I’m so depressed I don’t know what to do;

Bob: Sounds like you’re feeling depressed.

Bobby: Yeah. I think I’m gonna kill myself.

Bob: Sounds like you’re thinking of suicide.

Bobby: Yeah–My dick fell off in the shower.

Bob:  Sounds like you need to watch what you eat.

–Click buzz—

Bobby is a gash in the arm of God, lost as he segues
to a regrettable death.

“Try not to think about it,” says Bob, “It’s in Robs hands now.”

Rob Goldstein 1985-2019