Literary Triathlon: Picks
By Paddy Scott
Today's Literary Triathlon Pick of the Day is from Paddy Scott of Trenton, ON.
Poetry: Who made me?
a question met with universal shrugs
because some small nameless hand
is my creator
broken bent aged beyond its years
fingers dart beneath the needle
to sew my threads
nothing like the god that labels me
the fleetest device for the feet
of those who only bow before starting lines
Short Story: A Pair
Dawn comes and the young man ties on his tattered running shoes and hits the dawn pavement an hour before the cars and trucks crowd him from the road. He appreciates the cool, fresh scent of the too brief period before the exhaust begins to burn his throat.
Dawn comes and in a poorly lit room beside the others a young child is already stooped over a table. Dabbing the brush into the pail he spreads a layer of epoxy around a sole. He does not appreciate the scent of the glue. It gives him headaches and burns his eyes.
Creative Nonfiction: Bronzed Age
Bright-eyed, I was leaving for Western University and had everything packed except for the ratty old pair of canvas sneakers I wore slavishly for my final year of high school despite my mother’s bleating about how they were just shoelaces and rubber soles anymore. That was true, but to steal a body’s shoes when he is about to walk out the door and into the wilder world for the first time struck me as childish and desperate. After making it clear that she had broken an inviolable bond, I departed grimly and for three months walked through London, its halls and gyms on my new Nikes, all the while hearing them squeak their little notes of woe. Something remained lost.
The cries persisted right up until Christmas morning when my mother presented me with my old shoes, bronzed and bolted to a table lamp. Good as gold, she said.
Paddy Scott lives in Trenton, ON.