Liebster Award

Lobsterbird accepts Liebster Award!

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for Part One of this series visit: Serially Lost (Part 1)

Serially Found

Jan realized she needed to get out of there—quick. She was starting to seriously lose it.

Jesus always does save, doesn’t he? Jan joked to herself, feeling grateful for the intuition no matter where it was coming from.

She reached for her phone. “Still in NJ?” read a mysterious text message.

She hesitated. Jan hated the phone and never answered calls or messages when she didn’t recognize the sender. Losing all her contacts last year when her phone died complicated her neurosis.

Yet somehow, she was compelled to answer.

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ducks

ducks

“Hey, Sally?”

“Ya, Phil?”

“It’s really nice out, isn’t it?”

“It really is. I love our Wednesday Daytime Duck Dates.”

“Me too. I could just glide around with you like this everyday.”

Their little orange flippers turn them around so they are facing each other, swimming in parallel, and following one another.

ducks

“It’s so quiet here, isn’t it?”

“Sure is, Phil. Remember when there used to be all kinds of creatures splashing around in this here lake?”

“Yep, sure do. And in the winters all the families would bring their kids ice skating. This lake is so big. Stretches far out past those trees. We should go over there sometime.”

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opposites

opposites attract?

“I’m Red,” she says, feeling a little thick-skinned and not really wanting to engage.

“I’m kind of red too,” he counters, hoping to find common ground.

“You’re not red. You’re kind of yellow.”

“What! I am not yellow. I’m more bold!”

“Well you’re definitely not red,” she says, refusing to be put in the same box as this stranger. The chill from the air conditioning and the cold fluorescent lighting match Red’s frigid attitude.

“I’m juicy…” He wonders if sticking to the positive might peel away Red’s thick layers.

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In the end,
i believe it was god.
But before,
i knew it was you—
the same tricks and traps
scrawling prose
imagery out the wazoo.
Upon second thought,
that was my mind
wandering aimlessly
instead of reading mindfully
so that
In the beginning,
there was never
a need
to know.

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This morning, at 8:02AM, Jan woke up and decided she didn’t want to live anymore.

She looked around her childhood room, although different than it was growing up, still simmered in the memories of her jaded past. The Crayola green and blue and white polka-dotted hippie wallpaper that once lined her walls was now replaced by a drab white-ish paint that didn’t really conceal the little ticks and bumps in the wall. On top of that were posters and paintings of foreign countries Jan had visited (and some that she hadn’t but her mom thought she might like anyway). There were too many plants, as if her mother not-so-secretly would rather have her room be a greenhouse rather than house the being who actually grew up there. The furniture was all brown, some of it interesting like the Chinese cabinet with the fish lock or the writing desk that looked like it was from the early 1900s. Some of it was the least interesting furniture there could be. All of it brown, yet none of it matched.

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