Lillian Beane
Bio
Experimentations in guttural reactions and vulnerability. Writing from the essence of being. Calling in the Unknown.
Stories (2)
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Napkins
I’ve sat here all night trying to figure out what to say to you. And still, I am too shy. So I write my words on the back of this napkin, hoping that it stays long enough for you to notice. Not that I should be using a napkin anyway - although, it can’t get any worse, can it? The environment, I mean.
By Lillian Beane5 years ago in Confessions
Collecting Dominos
She dragged her fingers slowly over the dark, pebbled leather. Each pore feeling every individual bump and grainy groove. It spoke to her, whispered. She ran her middle finger along the edge, toying with slipping her finger under the cover and flipping it open. The edge, different than the front, was rugged and daring. Almost sharp... dangerous. Her finger dipped slightly underneath the flap then trailed away from the notebook onto the smooth leather seat. Immediately she could tell the satire between the leather bound pages and the plastic “leather” seat she was sitting on. Time stopped as she focused on it. It sucked her in. Thoughts flooded her imagination of what could be inside. Who...could be inside. Who would leave such an important item? Who could leave behind their inner workings inside a taxi cab? This was precious, she knew it. A gift. A definite sign from the universe.
By Lillian Beane5 years ago in Humans
