Blog – Page 43 – Tim Jones

Tuesday Poem: That’s Far Enough

Posted on May 16, 2011

That’s Far Enough
Unexplained force acts to slow Pioneer and other deep-space probes [news]

Like rotifers in a puddle
staring at the sky
we can look but not touch

It’s gentle at first
that force
but insistent

stay within the solar system
and no harm will come to you
you will be allowed the illusion of freedom

but stray too far
and we will have to take steps

nothing unpleasant, you understand
but the subtle application of a force
additional to gravity

gentle at first
but insistent
that force

till you slow,
stop, and return
to whence you came

bearing news:
the Universe is not for you
some things are sacred.

Tim says: As I’ve recently posted the guidelines for an online magazine issue featuring New Zealand and Australian speculative poetry (a term covering science fiction, fantasy and horror poetry, among others) that I’m editing, I though I’d post one of my own science fiction poems – well, a science poem, anyway. This one is from my first poetry collection, Boat People.

At the time “That’s Far Enough” was written, the trajectories of the Pioneer 10 and 11 spacecraft leaving the solar system and heading into interstellar space appeared to show that they were being acted on by a forced additional to gravity, which was gradually slowing them down. However, recent research may have accounted for the “Pioneer Anomaly”.

You can read all the Tuesday Poems on the Tuesday Poem blog – the featured poem is on the centre of the page, and the week’s other poems are linked from the right-hand column.

Call for Submissions: Eye to the Telescope 2: New Zealand and Australian Speculative Poetry

Posted on May 12, 2011

This is an open call to New Zealand and Australian poets for submissions to Issue 2 of “Eye to the Telescope”, the Science Fiction Poetry Association’s new online journal, to be edited by Tim Jones and published in July/August 2011. The focus of Issue 2 is on New Zealand and Australian speculative poetry. Issue 2 will include a maximum of 20 poems.

You can read Issue 1 online here: http://www.eyetothetelescope.com

In this notice:

* Submission guidelines: including submission format, payments and rights, and who can submit

* What is speculative poetry?

* What is the Science Fiction Poetry Association?

* Who is Tim Jones?

SUBMISSION GUIDELINES

Because this is an open call for submissions to all New Zealand and Australian poets, and time is tight, submissions do that not follow the guidelines below are unlikely be successful. In particular, attachments will not be read.

Submission format

1) Send no more than three poems in an email message to eott2subs@gmail.com with the subject line “Submission to EOTT 2”.

If you include more than three poems in your message, I will only read the first three. You are welcome to send fewer than three poems.

2) Include your poem(s) in the body of your email message. Do not send attachments. Attachments will be not be read.

If your poem has special formatting requirements which cannot be reproduced in the body of an email, please send it anyway within the body of your email, but include a note about the formatting requirements. If necessary, I will get back to you to request a copy in the correct format.

3) Poems of longer than 75 lines will not be considered. There is no lower limit on lines, so you are welcome to send haiku and other short forms, provided you send no more than three poems in total.

4) Preference will be given to unpublished poems. However, some previously-published poems may be included. Poems that have been previously anthologised will not be included – for example, poems that were published in Voyagers: Science Fiction Poetry from New Zealand will not be included. Please clearly indicate any poems that have been previously published, and give their publication history. Unpublished poems selected for inclusion will be eligible for the Rhysling Awards: see http://www.sfpoetry.com/rhysling.html

5) If you are unsure what speculative poetry is, please see the notes below. If you are still not sure whether your poem fits, please send it anyway, and I’ll make up my mind when I read it.

6) After your poem(s), please include a biography of no more than 100 words in the body of your email message. You can also include a link to your blog or website or Amazon author page etc. – whatever link seems best to you, as long as it will continue to be valid at least throughout 2011.

7) Submissions are now open. Please submit your poem(s) by midnight (New Zealand time) on Wednesday 15 June 2011. Any submissions received after I check my email the next morning will not be considered.

8) I will aim to make my selection and respond to all submitters by Wednesday 30 June 2011. However, this response date depends on the volume of submissions received. Please be aware that, due to the limited number of poems to be included, most submitted poems will, unfortunately, have to be rejected.

Payment and rights

9) Accepted poems will be paid for at the following rate: US 3¢/word rounded to nearest dollar, minimum US $3, maximum US $25. Payment is on publication.

10) The Science Fiction Poetry Association normally uses PayPal to pay poets, but can also send cheques. If your poem is accepted, I will get in touch to confirm payment details.

11) “Eye to the Telescope” is an online publication. Therefore, First Electronic Rights (for original poems) or reprint electronic rights are being sought.

Who can submit?

12) Residents of New Zealand and Australia, and citizens of New Zealand and Australia no longer resident in those countries, are eligible to submit. If you do not currently live in New Zealand or Australia, but think that you qualify to submit, please include a note in your email outlining your status and your connection with New Zealand or Australia.

WHAT IS SPECULATIVE POETRY?

Speculative poetry is poetry that falls within the genres of science fiction, fantasy, and horror, plus some related genres such as magic realism, metafiction, and fabulation. It is not easy to give precise definitions, partly because many of these genres are framed in term of fiction rather than poetry.

A good starting point is “”About Science Fiction Poetry” by Suzette Haden Elgin, the founder of the Science Fiction Poetry Association, which you can read here:

http://www.sfwa.org/members/elgin/SFPoetry.html

Despite its title, this article is applicable to all forms of speculative poetry.

Closer to home, I had a go at defining science fiction poetry on my blog, in two parts:

http://timjonesbooks.blogspot.com/2009/02/what-is-science-fiction-poetry-part-1.html

http://timjonesbooks.blogspot.com/2009/02/what-is-science-fiction-poetry-part-2.html

These blog posts date from 2009, and the Voyagers anthology has since been published. Theses posts do refer specifically to science fiction poetry, rather than the broader field of speculative poetry.

As noted above – if in doubt, submit it anyway, and I’ll decide.

WHAT IS THE SCIENCE FICTION POETRY ASSOCIATION (SFPA)?

As the SFPA says on its website at http://www.sfpoetry.com/:

“The Science Fiction Poetry Association was founded in 1978 to bring together poets and readers interested in science fiction poetry. What is sf poetry? You know what they say about definitions—everybody has one. To be sure, it is poetry (we’ll leave that definition to you), but it’s poetry with some element of speculation—usually science fiction, fantasy, or horror. Some folks include surrealism, some straight science.”

See the SFPA site for lots more information – and please consider joining.

WHO IS TIM JONES?

Tim Jones is a poet and author of both science fiction and literary fiction who was awarded the NZSA Janet Frame Memorial Award for Literature in 2010. He lives in Wellington, New Zealand. Among his recent books are fantasy novel Anarya’s Secret (RedBrick, 2007), short story collection Transported (Vintage, 2008), and poetry anthology Voyagers: Science Fiction Poetry from New Zealand (Interactive Press, 2009), co-edited with Mark Pirie. Voyagers won the “Best Collected Work” category in the 2010 Sir Julius Vogel Awards. Tim’s third poetry collection, Men Briefly Explained, will be published by Interactive Press of Brisbane in late 2011.

For more, see:

Tim’s Amazon author page: http://www.amazon.com/Tim-Jones/e/B004MGX7Z8/

Tim’s blog: http://timjonesbooks.blogspot.com

Looking Forward To The Ballroom Cafe With Madeleine Slavick This Sunday

Posted on May 12, 2011

I’m looking forward to spending two hours at the Ballroom Cafe in Newtown on Sunday from 4-6pm (cnr Riddiford St and Adelaide Rd). Madeleine Slavick is the guest poet, and she’ll be performing a series of portraits of New Zealand poets. There will also be open mike poets – the open mike is of a high standard at the Ballroom – and musician Fraser Ross.

I’m looking forward to these two hours because I like Madeleine, like her poetry, and think this will be an intriguing session. I’m also looking forward to it because it will be two hours away from what has been an incredibly busy life of late: lots of travel, lots of interesting experiences, lots of preparation for important things coming up later in the year, lots and lots of answering emails, but alas, far too little writing, or even submitting what I have written.

I’m hoping things will settle down for the next month or so. I’m planning to get more writing done, and once that’s underway, I hope I’ll get back into the swing of commenting on blogs etc. I even have some new author interviews for this blog lined up – when I find time to write the questions!

So, if I seem a little absent, in either the mental of the physical sense, that’s why. For two hours on Sunday, I plan to be present.

Full Of The Warm South*

Posted on May 5, 2011

As I reported in March, I was delighted to be invited to take part in the Readers And Writers Alive! Festival in Invercargill on Friday 29 and Saturday 30 April.

And the whole thing couldn’t have gone better. The weather was fine and warm – I was wishing I had packed shorts and jandals, not long-sleeved shirts and jackets. The Festival organisers, and behind them the Dan Davin Literary Foundation and the Invercargill Licensing Trust, do a great job of looking after both presenters and participants, none more so than event organiser Rebecca Amundsen, backed up by Foundation chair Hamesh Wyatt and the helpful & friendly Invercargill Public Library staff.

Arriving just before lunch, I spent Friday afternoon walking the same paths I used to take as a child forty years ago, until the heat of the sun got too much for me and I retreated indoors for wi-fi and poetry preparation.

The Friday evening poetry reading involved four poets: in reading order, Kay McKenzie Cooke, Lynley Dear, myself and Joanna Preston.

The crowd was small, due to a triple threat of competing attractions, none of which had been scheduled when the workshop schedule was planned: the Royal Wedding, the Highlanders vs Blues game, and the Breakers’ deciding final against the Taipans. But the audience appeared to enjoy it, just as I enjoyed hearing all the poets and taking a good number of my own Southland poems for a spin. Afterwards, we headed out to Waxy’s for a highly entertaining dinner.

On Saturday the 30th, I ran a workshop called “Writing Different Worlds” with twenty participants, including Kay and Joanna, which covered the range of speculative fiction: science fiction, fantasy, horror, and those more elusive beasts such as fabulation, magical realism and metafiction. One participant came up with a great example of metafiction (fiction about fiction) as her response to a writing exercise. Participants ranged in age from 14 to a considerable number of multiples of 14.

Two things struck me about this workshop. The first was the talent and enthusiasm of the writers present, which shone through in the results of the two writing exercises I set and also in the many questions and comments that people made. Most people got the chance to read out the work they had done during the exercises. The overall quality of work was high, but even better, I twice had one of those intake-of-breath moments when, within a few sentences of hearing new work by a writer I’d never met before, I realised that they were – or had the potential to be – really, really good. That doesn’t happen often, and it’s a great feeling when it does.

The second thing was the sense of isolation many of the writers expressed. I remember feeling isolated when I lived in Dunedin and was just starting to take writing seriously; in Invercargill, three hours’ further down the line, the feeling of being cut off from the “main centres” of New Zealand writing activity is even stronger. The Festival plays a valuable part in countering this tyranny of distance, but there is room for a lot more to be done.

Full many a rose is born to blush unseen
And waste its sweetness on the desert air

… or so said Thomas Gray. There are roses indeed blooming in Southland; it would be a great pity if their sweetness went to waste.

Kay McKenzie Cooke and Joanna Preston have both blogged about the good time they had at the weekend (it was a pity I couldn’t stay for Joanna’s workshop: despite all the mischief she had threatened, she was an exemplary participant in mine!)

UPDATE

Workshop participant Claire has also posted her report of the workshop, and it sounds like she enjoyed it too.

*Tip o’ the hat to John Keats for the title, via Dennis McEldowney.

Tuesday Poem: Getting By

Posted on May 2, 2011

I’m not
jumping from a burning building with my arms on fire
not
crawling in the rubble, looking for my hand.
Geography has been so kind.

But a simple wish
can turn a streetscape to a moonscape
turn pink flesh
to whitened ash and bone.

I’m sitting by the window
wind
lofting soundscapes through the heavy air.
Boy racers, parties, sirens — bang!
A bomb? Could that have been a bomb?

I listen harder.
There’s no more sirens, no-one screams.
Just something falling, someone
hitting harder than they planned.

No bomb, no need to worry.
I’m writing
not exploding
getting by
not burning in a burning land.

Credit note: First published in All Blacks Kitchen Gardens.

Tim says: This jittery poem from the early years of the last decade seemed like an apposite one to post tonight.

You can read all the Tuesday Poems on the Tuesday Poem blog – the featured poem is on the centre of the page, and the week’s other poems are linked from the right-hand column.

Book Review: In Pursuit…, by Joanna FitzPatrick

Posted on April 27, 2011

In Pursuit…, by Joanna FitzPatrick, is published by La Drôme Press and available from the author’s website, and from Amazon as a Kindle ebook and paperback.

Joanna FitzPatrick sent me “In Pursuit…” for review after she had read my interview with Kathleen Jones, the author of the recent, and very well-received biography Katherine Mansfield: The Storyteller. “In Pursuit…” is a biographical novel rather than a biography, but it shares more in common with Kathleen Jones’ biography than its subject. One of the notable features of “The Storyteller” is its non-linear time sequence, and “In Pursuit…” uses the same technique, although the time sequence becomes linear as the novel goes on.

I ended up enjoying “In Pursuit…” a lot, but I got off to a slightly rocky start with it. Part of that was circumstantial: having read “The Storyteller” so recently, I had a hard time resisting the urge to rush off to it every few pages to check whether the two books matched. Once I told myself firmly that this was a novel and that I should read it as such, those worries disappeared.

The novel is set in England and Europe apart from the appropriately-named Prelude, which is set in New Zealand in 1908, when Katherine was 19. This was the part of the novel I had the most trouble with, because, as someone who lives in Wellington, aspects of these scenes didn’t quite ring true for me. I don’t believe Katherine Mansfield would have said, or thought, “I’ll go visit Julia” – that’s still regarded as an American construction here over 100 years later. And I don’t think – although I may be wrong – that KM would have been able to see from her house a ship leaving Wellington Harbour dwindling to a dot on the horizon.

(In saying this, I acknowledge that it is very difficult indeed for an author to get all the details right of a country she does not live in or regularly visit – though I didn’t notice any problems of this sort in “The Storyteller”. Also, I doubt these quibbles will mean anything to a reader who doesn’t live in New Zealand.)

The good news is that, as soon as the story moved overseas and forward in time, I started to enjoy it. Joanna FitzPatrick acknowledges the editors of Katherine Mansfield’s letters and diaries in her “Note on Sources”, and it’s clear that she has drawn on the letters in particular to flesh out a convincing portrait of Katherine and her circle.

I finished “The Storyteller” feeling considerable sympathy for both Katherine Mansfield and John Middleton Murry, but “In Pursuit…” is very much Katherine Mansfield’s story. More than anything else, she struck me as a woman who was born before her time: someone whose talents might have flourished for much longer in an era when antibiotics could have dealt to her ailments and her desire for independence might have been better appreciated.

So, especially if you are interested in literary history in general or Katherine Mansfield in particular, I recommend that you get hold of a copy of “In Pursuit…”.

P.S.: If you are interested in Katherine Mansfield, I also recommend that you check out the Katherine Mansfield Society, whose journal is currently calling for submissions for its forthcoming issue on “Katherine Mansfield and the Fantastic”.

Tuesday Poem: Cynara, by Ernest Christopher Dowson

Posted on April 25, 2011

Non sum qualis eram bonæ sub Regno Cynaræ

[‘The days when Cynara was queen will not return for me.’ – CATULLUS]

Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine
There fell thy shadow, Cynara! Thy breath was shed
Upon my soul between the kisses and the wine;
And I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, I was desolate and bowed my head:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.

All night upon mine heart I felt her warm heart beat,
Night-long within mine arms in love and sleep she lay;
Surely the kisses of her bought red mouth were sweet;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
When I awoke and found the dawn was grey:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.

I have forgot much, Cynara! gone, gone with the wind,
Flung roses, roses riotously with the throng,
Dancing, to put thy pale, lost lilies out of mind;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, all the time, because the dance was long:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.

I cried for madder music and for stronger wine,
But when the feast is finished and the lamps expire,
Then falls thy shadow, Cynara! the night is thine;
And I am desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, hungry for the lips of my desire:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.

Credit note: First published in 1896.

Tim says: Ernest Dowson is a minor and largely forgotten poet, yet he gave the English language the phrases “gone with the wind” (third stanza above), “days of wine and roses” (from “Vitae Summa Brevis”), and, on a more prosaic level, is the first recorded user of the word “soccer”.

Dowson’s poetry is an example of the doomed, late-Victorian romanticism and decadence most closely associated with the more famous Algernon Swinburne. The excellent Horizon Review has recently published an article by Katy Evans-Bush about Dowson and his place in the transition from Victorian sentimentalism to modernism.

But away, dull care! Begone, literary history! I like this poem for its over-the-topness, for its self-pity, and for that silly, and yet marvellously musical, line:

Flung roses, roses riotously with the throng…

“And My Axe!”: The Further Adventures of Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli

Posted on April 20, 2011

Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli join the Fellowship of the Ring.

Aragorn: You have my sword.

Legolas: And you have my bow.

Gimli: And my axe.

Legolas: And my blade [He brandishes a dagger]

Gimli: And my adze.

Legolas: And my blunderbuss.

Gimli: And my arbalest.

Legolas: Arbalests haven’t been invented yet.

Gimli: Neither has the blunderbuss, fool.

Aragorn: Boys —

Legolas: And my velocipede.

Gimli: And my velociraptor.

Aragorn: I’m not going to ride to Mordor on a fucking bicycle.

Gimli: Galadriel would.

Aragorn: And as for velociraptors … what’s a velociraptor?

Gimli: The velociraptor is a genus of dromaeosaurid theropod dinosaur that existed approximately 75 to 71 million years ago during the later part of the Cretaceous Period.

Legolas: Wikipedia hasn’t been invented yet either.

Aragorn: These velociraptors – good in a fight?

Gimli: Dwarven armies used to ride them into battle.

Legolas: Ooh, they did not!

Gimli: Did too.

Legolas: Whatever. They’re extinct.

Gimli: There are many things beneath the sun and the moon, friend Legolas, that you do not know. Mayhap in some dark glade or on some lonely mountaintop, beasts long forgotten by the world live on, waiting to play their part in the big battle at the end of the book.

Legolas: You looked ahead. That’s cheating.

Aragorn: Screw this. Let’s form a band instead – a power trio. I already have some drums.

Legolas: And you have my bass.

Gimli: And my axe!

Tuesday Poem: The Aliquot Brothers

Posted on April 18, 2011

Boys in men’s shirts, the Aliquot Brothers
have come to town. They are

backing us into corners, mopping up
the fragments we leave behind.

They are the perfect combination.
The redhead paints his toes. The honey blond

streaks highlights through his hair.
They go café to café, dividing

to rule, smearing tablecloths
with froth and melted cheese. (The rest of us

confined to quarters, mumbling
over cold porridge and twice-strained tea.)

No use complaining: they’ll leave
when they’re good and ready,

with no remainder, nothing
but the hiss of their departure,

the closing door that splits
this world from its neighbour.

Credit note: “The Aliquot Brothers” was first published in Issue 14 of Interlitq, “A New Zealand Literary Showcase”. This issue has stories and poems by a wide range of New Zealand writers – it is well worth checking out. It will also appear in my forthcoming poetry collection Men Briefly Explained, published by Interactive Press of Brisbane.

Tim says: An aliquot is a number that divides another number evenly and leaves no remainder. That’ll be an NCEA Level 1 numeracy credit, please.

You can read all the Tuesday Poems on the Tuesday Poem blog – the featured poem is on the centre of the page, and the week’s other poems are linked from the right-hand column. I’m very pleased to be this week’s Tuesday Poem editor on the main blog.

Short Story: Gwen’s Dilemma, by M. L. Poncelet

Posted on April 13, 2011

Gwen stood outside the sidewalk looking at the address. The building had a closed sign, the windows looked grimy and the awning was missing. She smiled. This was going to be the future home of her new business, Gwen’s Flower Shop. She was going to be her own boss from now on. No more having to wake up and drive one hour to her government job.

As she peered through the glass she imagined all the new renovations she would do – new tile for the floors, a fresh coat of paint for the walls, and a good scrub on the outside wouldn’t hurt either. It was hard to believe this used to be a flower shop, but there in the corner was the refrigeration unit with its glass doors.

Her inheritance from her late uncle Bob was a huge help when it came to getting the loan. She walked around a couple of times as she waited for the loan manager to show up and give her the key. She couldn’t wait to get started.

“Hey lady, are you lost?”

Gwen turned around, somewhat taken aback by this toothless man.

“This is going to be the future home of Gwen’s Flower Shop.” She said, forcing a smile.

“Good luck to them,” he said as he approached closer. “How much did they pay for it? They probably got ripped off whatever it was. I’m Dan by the way, I work out the back at the radiator shop.”

Gwen took a step backward, and looked at him, unbelieving. Just then she spied the loan manager’s car come bolting around the corner in a blur of shiny metal.

Dan wandered off just as Jeff came careening into the parking lot, slamming the car door behind him.

“Gwen! You beat me to it!” He ran up and shook her hand, congratulating her. Jeff’s smile was infectious and soon her old enthusiasm was back. She shared her ideas of renovating and he nodded and smiled as he rattled the key back and forth in the lock. Finally it opened. “You might want to get a locksmith around, this lock is a bit rusty.”

Inside the place was a complete mess; dirt and cobwebs were everywhere, clinging to the edge of the countertop and hanging down from the ceiling. Even the normally chatty Jeff was at a loss for words. He brushed his jacket. “I should get going, Gwen. Good luck!”

Gwen watched him go and waved through the grimy windows but he was too busy swinging his neck around looking for a break in the traffic. Afterward, Gwen put on her apron and started to clean, first one spot and then another. It was hard to stay focused on just one area when the whole place was in such dire need of help. Even the ceiling was yellow. Someone must’ve smoked quite heavily in here. She left the door open for some fresh air but soon realized after she started coughing that she needed a mask.

The locksmith came around noon.

“Whatcha doin’?” He said.

“Cleaning! This is going to be the future home of Gwen’s Flower Shop,” she said between gritted teeth. “Who are you?”

“I’m here to change your locks,” he said as he rattled the door and the door frame. “This door is junk lady, it’s not worth the lock. You see how it doesn’t sit right in the frame?”

Gwen coughed as she came outside to see what he was talking about. He unscrewed the door handle.

“Ideally what you want to do is take out the bolt but this frame is so flimsy,” he poked at the frame with his screwdriver. “If I take this one out you’re going to have major problems. Looks like you need to call someone about these ants, they’ve found the rotten wood already.” The locksmith pointed his shoe at the small mound of earth next to the corner of the door.

Gwen took off her rubber gloves and bent over to have a look. There were ants all right, dozens of them. One more person to call.

“I need the lock changed, whatever hardware you have, could you change it?” She was getting exasperated.

“Sure, sure. You just continue on what you’re doing and I’ll do my thing.”

Gwen went back inside and resumed her scrubbing.

The locksmith opened the door, “I’m going to have to get another part, in the meantime, just keep this propped open, might be good for some fresh air.”

Gwen kept cleaning for the next hour and then the wind picked up, seeming to blow more dust into the shop. Gwen pulled the door shut in annoyance.

By the end of the afternoon, the locksmith still hadn’t returned. “Where is he?” Reaching into her pocket, she realized she had left her mobile phone in the car. Gwen strode to the door and hooked her fingers through the hole where the door knob used to be, but she couldn’t open it. Perplexed, she bent down until she was eye level with the round hole and saw that the lousy bolt bit was holding the door in the frame. She rattled the door a few times but the door wouldn’t budge.

“This is crazy,” she muttered to herself. She needed something to turn the black piece of metal, a nail file? She always kept a couple of glass nail files in her purse which was – in the trunk of her car.

How was she going to get out? Gwen knew she shouldn’t panic but she was tired and thirsty and hungry. She went around to all the windows but none of them would open. There was a small one out the back but it was stuck with grime and the lever was broken.

How was she going to get help? The phone company wasn’t supposed to come until the end of the week. Gwen put her ear to the hole in the door but all she could hear was the faint rumble of the machines from the radiator shop. She yelled for help, but it was useless.

She was trapped! Panicking, she alternated between yelling and kicking at the door. How did those people do it in those movies? Throwing doors open with their shoulder? Gwen hit her shoulder against the door but it just hurt. Near tears, she threw anything and everything at the door including a stool. Finally, it started to splinter in the middle. Encouraged, she kept ramming the stool at it until the hole was large enough for the stool. Out of breath, Gwen tossed it aside and started to squeeze herself through the hole; she felt the sharp splinters scratching her and causing a rip in her shirt.

She was half way through, her arms flailing in front of her as she tried to wiggle through when she saw the locksmith’s truck come around the corner.

“Whatcha doin’?” he called out.

Bio: M.L. Poncelet resides on the west coast of Canada in a place full of interesting characters and inspiration for her stories. You can read more of her short stories at http://www.oceanbluepress.com.