Crocodile Tales

My first MFA application is due in two weeks.
I can’t believe I’m doing this; I can’t believe how enriched my life has been since I’ve decided to do this. So much of my mind has gone into piecing together the puzzle pieces of my thoughts, to write true stories – not in that they relate in any way to reality, but that they are my thoughts translated into story telling. As if I took out the middle man: my mind touching paper, with no keys or pens in between. So much of me has gone into those pages, that I can only share with you cliches: You can do so much, when you put your mind to it.

Here’s something old, to follow the new:

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When I was younger, Mr. Peterson would take my hand and pull me along the path to the back door to see the crocodiles. He would move his fingers softly through my hair and plant his lips by my ear as we watched the thrashing tails dance, his iniquitous whisper and curious fingers perusing until my legs flailed and finally fell, slack against the grass as the crocodiles devoured the last of their prey. And in the ensuing silence he would teach me how to say goodbye, unconsciously paving the path of the next seventeen years: See you later, Sara.

         “In a while, crocodile.” 
         Then there was Jake. Jake never said goodbye, you know. He was all about “see you soon”s and “au revoir”s. Even if he didn’t know French. He laughed and I grinned my crocodile grin and everything was fine. So after a summer of early mornings on the roof and late nights watching fireflies, I didn’t think much of his “See you later, Sara.” Even if he didn’t wait for my static reply.
         “In a while, crocodile.”
         I waited for a call from those happy summer months, and when it didn’t come, I decided to look for it, wandering out at night in my little truck till my droopy eyes met the sirens fast-approaching and I was gone, thrashing to the backyard pond. I wonder if I was prey for another Mr. P’s feasting eyes. No one heard the tails.
         But that’s okay. I was never much good at goodbyes, anyway.

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