By Ron. Lavalette
He put a checkmark in the ledger next to his own name in the column marked “Absent/Unexcused.” He was only a couple of minutes late. No one really wanted to get down to business, anyway. No one wanted to stay, but no one dared leave. Only four or five of them had ever actually been struck by lightning. Two were twins, but their identical siblings were elsewhere. Everyone was dreaming, hoping for better days in far more hospitable places, but everyone was, after all, only dreaming and—sadly—everyone knew they were only dreaming. No one dared to wake up.
No one could wait for it all to be over with, least of all him. He checked his watch and double-checked the ledger; noted his own unexcused absence. He closed his eyes and made a silent wish.
Ron. Lavalette is a very widely published, award-winning writer living on the Canadian border in Vermont’s Northeast Kingdom. His first chapbook, Fallen Away (Finishing Line Press), is now available at all standard outlets. More than 250 pieces of his poetry and short prose have been published in both print and pixel form in journals, reviews, and anthologies ranging alphabetically from Able Muse and the Anthology of New England Poets through the World Haiku Review. A reasonable sample of his published work can be viewed online at: – Eggs Over Tokyo –
The Birdseed 