Robin Hawke


Friday’s Voice
September 30, 2011, 2:26 PM
Filed under: All Writing Challenges | Tags:

There are many of us, volunteers for this detail. I recognize a few: Ambrose in First Class; Diona on pilot duty. I almost stop to soothe the crying infant, but I slip behind Charity, her given name.

Richard’s preflight duties wrap up; Nigella waits for him in back.  The passengers’ blood pressure drops when the baby latches to Rosalie’s breast. She hums, all the while relieving Laura’s earache. “London Bridge is…”  I feel a tight impulse to abandon my mission.

I know what’s coming. I’m resigned. The white noise, the chime of the bell, the captain speaking, all these noises lull the passengers into thinking this is like every other ride in the sky.

Passengers scream; the women are always louder than the men. Several times, Richard yells, “Keep Calm,”  a bass beat attempting to deter fear.

Seconds later, we catch each soul in tight embrace. Charity hugs me back. Her eyes shine with regret. I know she wants to eat her mother’s chicken and pick from her husband’s necktie collection one more time.

Voice Week 2011

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The Good Heart
September 30, 2011, 1:39 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

“What a good heart he has. He laughs at all my jokes, did you notice? Maybe I love him.”



Thursday’s Voice
September 29, 2011, 6:44 PM
Filed under: All Writing Challenges | Tags:

The flight attendant helps me to my seat. I try to catch a young mama’s eye, let her know I notice how she’s managing, but she’s watching out the window.

I don’t like crowds, don’t like my shoes or shuffling in line. I find myself holding that nice-looking boy, I mean man. He fastens a seat belt for me, even puts a blanket round my knees. Such an important job—I was in customer relations. They called me a Queen of Courtesy.

I never felt any desire to go visit, but, when sis died, Ruthie started hounding me with invites. My nails in my palms, I’m thinking I won’t fly again. I’m sweltering, waiting for take-off. I miss Birdie; he’s a right beautiful singer, a lovely heliotrope color.

Voice Week 2011

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Dream Wedding
September 29, 2011, 2:22 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Lindsay was promised the wedding of her dreams. In the morning, the doctor called with results. Adapting, she chose paper plates and tablecloths.



Wednesday’s Voice
September 28, 2011, 3:41 PM
Filed under: All Writing Challenges | Tags:

Men notice her. She gets a big smile with her seat directions. He doesn’t look to someone like me, right behind her.

“No, no, no,” Brianna’s loud. “Can’t this move?” Here we go—our drama queen about to go off. The girl’s a natural actress; she’s louder than the screaming baby. I seen our bags get put overhead and what was there before are pushed on the steward. I hang back even if I’m appreciative of her, she’s something to be reckoned with.

We sit. I know she’s hanging fearful on every word that comes out the loudspeaker. I hold my girl’s hand. She was at fright, didn’t notice who walking by. I squeeze back. She needs to get a grip of herself. Ali is my daddy—here we go.

Voice Week 2011

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Snowglobe
September 28, 2011, 1:39 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

He gives me a snowglobe. It’s supposed to be a memory keepsake, something I’m suppose to turn and watch and remember him by. He gives me the whole love but not in love speech and all I do is whisper, “Rosebud.”



Tuesday’s Voice
September 27, 2011, 5:17 PM
Filed under: All Writing Challenges | Tags:

Please take off on time. The steward barely helps me. That’s all right, get everyone else settled. I’ll manage with two arms, always do.

Oh, please be on time. I  look out the window while the rest of the passengers take their seats. They wish I wasn’t on board, as if I’m not doing my best.  All I hear is the baby screaming.  It hurts, how it hurts. The tingling pressure drives me to distraction.

Please, please finish up the safety talk; make your walk down the aisle, put on your own seatbelt. I just want to open my blouse and nurse.

Voice Week 2011

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