FOUSESQUAWK: "Autumn Sonata in P Flat"

Here is an excerpt from my up-coming novel (my first), "Autumn Sonata in P Flat".

(Hat tip to Anne Morrow Lindbergh for the inspiration)

"Dawn was breaking over the tiny New England village. The first leaves of autumn were just beginning to turn a golden brown. Raindrops from the night before, which had settled on the fir trees, were now dripping to the green grass below to mix with the morning dew as the sun rose over the mountains like a sphinx appearing through the dissipating fog.

It was six, but Homer was still stirring in his bed. It had been a restless night mixed with the screeching crawing of the black crows who were awakening. Throughout the night, as he reached for that now-empty pillow next to him, his thoughts were for..... Myrtle.

It had been a week since Myrtle left. The distant call of a university post in far-off California had finally conquered her desire to stay with Homer. Ever since, Homer had recurring dreams of the times when he had held Myrtle's sagging breasts in the cup of his hands and lost himself deliriously in the folds of her huge and welcoming belly.

Myrtle.

He tried to tell himself it was finally over and for the best. Even at 62, he would find a new love to make him forget Myrtle. "Yes", he thought, "Tomorrow will be another day". But he knew it was no use. No one could take the place of....Myrtle.

For several moments, he lay there, visions of Myrtle dancing in his head like a merry-go-round-always coming back to the same visage again and again...

Myrtle.

Then, without a word, Homer turned over, farted, and went back to sleep.

Nevermore."