To whom it may concern,
Contained within this portfolio you will find a collection of my poetry and short stories from MCAD’s Creative Writing class.
The first story follows a trapper through his daily routine which, sadly, he does not survive. The second story tells of a young, minimum wage, grocery casher who documents his harrowing three weeks trapped inside the store. The rescuers found his lifeless body with this document scrawled on the only medium the man could find, toilet paper.
Next you will find a poem about Io and Zeus. Inspired by the work of Carol Ann Duffy, this poem comes across as more abrupt than my other pieces. The second poem I wrote while on a visit to The MIA. I intended to capture the photograph (titled The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters) in this poem. Finally, the last poem tells of a farmer’s daughter and her relentless campaign to protect her garden against the ferocity and unpredictability of spring weather.
I hope you will enjoy reading my works as much as I did writing them.
Sincerely,
Anna Staus
Ghost Story
Greg was driving home on the dirt road, the dust billowed behind. It was already dusk which made it difficult to distinguish between the road and the ditch but he was very familiar with this route home. It had been a crisp day fall day. He had gone to his friend’s orchard to capture a raccoon that had been terrorizing the farm. Bob had called him yesterday. Apparently despite bob’s best efforts to secure the coop this raccoon was able to still muscle its way in and had killed three of the hens. So Greg loaded up the truck with his animal control equipment and set up the traps that night. sure enough by the next morning there frothing and hissing crouched a massive raccoon with blood coming from its nose and face. The blood had dried all over his fur and had been plastered all over the trap from his desperate attempts to escape from the cage. Bob had spotted Greg from across the yard and came over. “Hi-ya Greg how’s the weather been treating ya? I hear we’re in for a cold snap. Hey thanks for coming over so quickly the other day, I don’t think the chickens could have stood for another midnight snack.” As he chuckled and gestured towards the trap that rattled indigently. "No problem, happy to help” Greg said. “So wha-da I owe ya?” Bob said in a drawling tone. “Ah its fine, really” “Well at least take some apples” Bob pulled down a crate of pink ladies from the side of the cooler. “we got some of these and some golden delicious in the back but I think these turned out exceptionally this year” he said as he leaned down placing a dozen apples into a paper bag. “Here ya go” the apples had a soft sweet smell that mixed perfectly with the musty leaf sent lifting though the crisp air.
So Greg gathered up the paper bag, placed it on the front seat of the pick-up and tossed the snarling cage into the back. Greg still needed to run some errands and by the time he started down his path home he was already becoming a little drowsy. A combine mowed through the field of corn next to the road; decapitating them from their bases and spitting the crushed remnants out the back. The light from the combine’s headlights nearly blinded Greg and made it impossible to see the road. Greg tried to squint but even at that he could just make out the road. Suddenly a deer, spooked by the combine, dashed out of the field and bounded up out of the ditch and into the road. Greg slammed on the brakes, his truck skid over the course gravel. The cages and traps slid into the back of the bed with the scraping sound of metal on metal. Greg missed the deer by a mere six inches. Greg, heart pounding out of his chest looked at the deer. The buck seemed to make eye contact with him. Its eyes looked a harsh neon yellow with the reflected light from the truck in them. Greg had the feeling that this deer looked at him with a kind of knowing. Like it was looking into him, studying him as if it could see into his soul. Greg shook himself bringing his mind back to reality and laid on the horn. The deer barely flinched, then slowly it took its legs and move them gracefully and deliberately into the forrest. When Greg got home he took the bag of apples and placed them next to the sink. Some of them had been bruised from hitting the dash. The raccoon was left sitting in the back of the truck, he would deal with it tomorrow. Right now he was too tired to think of doing anything else except plopping himself down with the TV. Greg lumbered over to the fridge and pulled out a case. Then sagged down onto the couch. He grabbed a can out of the cardboard box. He pulled the tab and the can clicked and sputtered a bit. Then Greg reached for the remote but before he could do anything else he saw something reflected in the black screen. A kind of yellow sickly glow Greg turned his head sharply to look out the window but nothing was there. No, it must have just been the reflection of the light in the shed. But something was nagging at the back of his brain that the light was not the only thing outside. He tried to shrug it off, letting the sound of the news reporter wash over his quickly numbing mind. He opened another can. He must have fallen asleep because the news reporter had been replaced by a late night talk show. “Dang,” Greg thought to himself “I missed the weather report”. It wasn’t a big deal though, he just clicked open his laptop and found it. The temperature forecast claimed that overnight it would drop below freezing. He would have to dispose of the raccoon tonight then. He stood up with a bit of a grunt and staggered out to his truck. He heaved the cage off of the tailgate. The raccoon snarled and tried one last time to escape by ramming its head against each end of the cage causing it to teeter back and forth like a seesaw. Greg reached the shed where a drum filled with water was waiting. He lowered the cage into the water, the raccoon thrashed hard causing the water to churn and splash against the sides. He turned his head away, this was his least favorite part of the job and he took no pleasure in it. He could start to hear the water become calm and still. But, as he started to turn back he felt a hot moist snort on the back of his neck. He whipped around sharply and there stood an enormous stag its antlers glistening in the moon light. Greg backed away slowly and then tried to run but it was too late. The buck aimed its antlers, slamming into Greg with its entire weight and furry. It pierce though him making clean punctures, then dropped Gregs body into the grass. All became slowly darker and narrower as the buck lit by moon light retreated into the forest.
Avocado
Week One
Nearly five days past since the last avocado graced our supermarket shelves
The hordes have exhausted themselves fighting over the last remaining fruits
Outside these doors, ankles deep in crimson horror
Vermillion stained linen
Listen to the million stricken raspy voices
with one simple mission.
A vixen with hair askew and disheveled
Threw herself against the glass door
Foaming. and with a hue of blue in the face
Spew her final command and collapsed into a puddle.
I drew a stern breath
Phew
A crew member put a hand to my shoulder
Keep it together man
Week Two
I yearn to see my bed again.
The mobs have burned all they could
Barbarians roaming.
I could sneak home the back way
…No-good. I whispered as I peek out the back door.
The hordes are weak but they still reek of ample savagery.
I’ve learned
To.
Spurn.
The day I clocked in… Nearly ten - or was it twelve days ago
I do not know
I can hardly discern the days
Week Three
I sat squat in the isle with a can beans
A knot in my gut… It’s the only thing I can keep down
Io and Zeus
Growing along the rivers edge
Creeks bubbling in earnest
Reeds poking through the glossy surface
Tall and strong like father,
Ruler of all.
I try to stay strong as well
I pledge to do no wrong
Fending for myself
A blossom pummeled to the bottom
Lamenting with no one else.
Then a comforting embrace
Exhale, moist and hot
A cloud, a man?
Rejoiced in the plot
His shroud enveloped me
A night of ecstasy
Encased, erased, no escape.
Then he turned a sharply cold shoulder
His wife appeared
Bolder.
Coming closer.
And quickly he cast me aside.
Trying to keep composure
My smoldering rage piercing a hole through his head
Heart hardening to hickory
His last resort
My body contorted, twisted and stretched into a horrid shape
Turned to beef
Reduced to a piece of meat
Rejected as the old cow I now was.
Inside.
And.
Out.
The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters
My eyes are getting heavy, but I must finish.
All around the world grows dark, yet I must finish.
Parchment crumples beneath my head.
My muscles weaken and spine slumps.
I really should go to bed.
Here come the monsters of the night, first an owl, then a bat.
The world becomes darker yet and the monsters keep on coming.
A panther comes to pounce on my legs. A bobcat wants to nibble them off.
The bats wait for the flies to feast. Owls want to eat my feet.
I have barely an ounce of strength in my stuporous state.
The monsters prove to numerous to face.
Will I take my last breath?
In the depths of my slumber, must I meet the fates?
Will I fall upon the pearly gates? The monsters come to plunder. But must I bequeath my wealth?
I am sorely at their mercy.
Yet I cannot completely wake from tender snooze.
Here comes more monsters, scruffy and sturdy.
I made a grave mistake for the sake of booze.
Flower Power
I spray your leaves and smell your flower
Browsing through the gardens and up the lawn
Diesel wafting the tractor moves with such power
April showers, sow seeds, cover with mulch
Soft soil with lots of loam
Combining clay, sand, and humus causes them to flower
Rains come down hard with a furry
Ice thunders down with vengeance
Mother Nature roars with such power
The war reborn anew between them and weeds
Choking and taking spoils
Still they yearn to flower
I avenge their pilfered belongings
The ones needed for life and spirit
I aid them with all my power
And then in came that fateful day
Their solemn green, animated
A vivid and emblazoned flower
Bursting out with all its power