Photos 4 [link] and 5 [link]

They last saw Aunt Sadie in Miami, on the beach, moving fast. Something about a motor launch waiting, with the engine running.

They said she robbed that market in Jacksonville, but I didn't believe it. Someone tied up the clerk and pistolwhipped the manager, but Aunt Sadie? In her sensible suit and eyeglasses?

And what about Uncle Ralph? He came home from Florida alone, then moved to Kansas. Daddy whispered something about where the money for the new farm came from, but Mom shushed him.

I got a card from Sadie when I graduated high school, postmarked Costa Rica, but Mom took it away.

photo drabbles are my favorite! Both of yours gave me goosebumps, connie.

I adore the photos, they trigger the weirdest thoughts.

I really liked your first one, connie, but the second was absolutely chilling.

Did Ralph and Sadie split the money? Did Sadie let Ralph keep the money in return for her running off with Raoul in the motor launch?

What makes it particularly chilling? The apparent respectability masking the potential for a violent crime? I was going for melodrama and I'm curious where the twist is.

I got a chill when Mom took away the postcard. It implied to me that there was something sinister about the whole affair that your Mom thought you weren't old enough to comprehend.

Boy, I wish I did those sorts of things consciously.

Chilling is the juxtaposition between what you wrote and especially, with the second picture, how she appeared, running on the beach, but in a sensible suit, with her purse, tight against her, as if she's protecting the contents.

Boy, I wish I did those sorts of things consciously.

I'm right there with you, connie. I'm always surprised at what other folks pull out of my words. Sometimes, I want them to go there and I'm pleased I achieved it and other times, not even what I intended, but I'm still pleased because there should be more levels of meaning the more people who read it. I enjoy it when a reader opens my eyes about my own writing, it makes everything richer and adds to my internal literary repertoire.

Photo ten.

Marti Gris

"Why so serious, Marti?"

I looked over at Papi. He was sitting on the sofá, a cigarette between two fingers. Mami was going to be mad, not all the ash was falling in the cenicero. She said Papi would burn the house down with his smoking, if he kept falling asleep on the sofá with a lit cigarette. Papi told Mami "en tus sueños." He said Mami just wanted new muebles or maybe a new husband, whichever was cheaper to find.

"I am sad, because everything will be grey when it is all covered in ashes and Mami will cry."