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Creative Writing: Malcolm's Home

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I nod, and bow my head. When she departs the table for the kitchen, I reflect on the cruelty of her words, and how they may have hurt Malcolm. With care, I stand and move away from my chair. And like a dormouse – flee. Malcolm’s house is dark. I knock at the front door. When he opens it, I ask, “Do you want company?” “Sure.” He stands aside and I enter. “Sorry for the darkness, I tried to meditate.” He switches on a floor lamp adjacent to a brown leather chair. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I’m concerned. Are you alright?” “No worries, I’m fine,” he says. He looks recovered, yet who knows. “Though, I should apologize for our host’s poor manners tonight. She’s usually less combative with strangers present.” He sits on the sofa. I follow and take a seat beside him. “She’s very…show more content…
So, I decide to dress and return to the guest house. I carry my shoes and tiptoe out the back door. The fog is thick. My feet sink into the wet grass. The moisture tingles under my toes. When I reach the guest house, there’s a letter-sized manila envelope up against the entrance. I pick it up, and open the door. Once inside, I place the envelope on the bed and jump into the shower. The joy I feel overwhelmed me and I begin to cry. My crying escalates. Midway, the lyrics of a Rolling Stones song plays in my mind. “You can’t always get what you want... You can’t always get what you want…” I begin to sing, “You can’t always get what you want… but well if you try sometimes… you just might find… You just might find… You get what you need—oh yeah!” Refreshed, I sit on the bed and open the manila envelope. Enclosed is a book, “Riding the Cosmic Wave with Joy” by Malcolm H. Ley, Ph.D. The book’s cover is of a surfer dude riding a monster blue wave into faraway galaxies. The cover resembles a cheesy print ad for a sci-fi film starring a youthful Harrison Ford. I browse the table of
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