SPOTLIGHT ON KATHRYN KEATS
Ellowrites is very pleased to showcase the work of Kathryn Keats. Check out her bio, selected works, then follow Kathryn here @keats and on her other socials and interact!
Kathryn Keats is happy to be
a working writer, music artist, and coach. Her husband is a movie actor and her children are all fellow artists. Her family has every piece of her heart. Her favorite thing to do is to work with other artists. It has always been that way. That started when she was five. She is a little older now so it has been an amazing life. She cares deeply about the state of the world. In addition, if you are a millennial she especially cares about you and your well-being and works diligently to pass the creative torch to you.
If you would like to know more about Kathryn check her out at:
She was finally gonna get away. He was just weaving in the corner watching her blow. The suitcase she picked out at the sal and vation was old and the leather was split with little threads just so... No…NOPE… just so. Get it in your head exactly like that… and she just kept opening it and closing it and pulling the straps around it and buckling them and unbuckling them… hard… no harder… and every time she did a little more of the leather would flake off. She wondered how many years it had taken for it to get that way and how many more before all of the leather would be gone and how long it would take for the straps to finally snap cause she knew everything - one - day - snaps - ya know… well maybe ya don’t… but she sure as hell did. She stuffed wayyy too much in the bag and had to crush her bony knees up on it to force it shut. When the thing was finally closed she picked it up and lugged it out to the curb and waited for her taxi. It’d been raining for hours and if she put the bag down the bottom might finally cave from the wet so she stood holding on real tight to everything she owned. Well, almost everything. She left one thing. And don’t think we are gonna say it was him. It was not him. He was standing by the bay window cryin' like a lost schoolboy. She took one look at him and bout’ threw a fit... him acting like he cared... shoulda' cried before she left... sorry motherfucker.
What she left was the family bible... left it in the cedar chest. When her mama gave it to her she never thought a thing about it... didn't give a shit about it. But today she remembered it.... And she also remembered NOT to take it. She kept hearing her mama's voice saying... but baby, I want you to keep it forever… So... she stood waiting for the cab... which was late... always late... and she started feeling little pangs of regret or guilt or something... she didn’t know... because to tell the truth she never even read the bible anyway… her arms went numb right about the time the cabbie smashed his old yellow into the curb and opened the door…. where to… he whispered… well… she said... Paris… and she sat back staring up at the apartment… and then at the New York City lights…. thinking about her freedom… and music… and her family… and the call she
never makes... to say... hey what's up... where ya at... could be better... but ya know I’m alright… and the call she gets that says... well honey... never the fuck mind about that... cause there never was a call like that… so right before the bridge... that bible starts callin'... maybe it’s her memory of him staring at her from the corner of the kitchen... since the dinner wasn’t even ready when she walked out the door... or maybe it's cause he was just waiting by the oven and was juggling all those floppy sentences... and she starts wondering if they was gonna talk for the first time in plenty... so... she put her hand out and placed a finger on the shoulder of the cabbie through the glass window that was open and said....
um....maybe on another day I can see the Eiffel Tower...
but shit man...
I forgot my bible.
Dark Angels in black boots hollered up the stairwell at the mother and daughter and out ran the cat. Off the fire escape, it shot like a bat out of hell into the apartment that never had more than one light bulb in the four-bulb fan. Mother scampered after the kid and the cat froze for a second thinking maybe it smelled bad fish again... hoping it sure did... and mother just about wrecked its tail for the third... no fourth time but cat flipped away just in time for the little kid to shout... Mama watch the cat... Damn… outta my way... I have a plane to catch and a war to fight... and she hiked up her skirt and remembered she left her panties on the line to dry out back and flashed for a minute on the ex ray scanner at the airport and decided to forget about it because taking the risk of missing the plane to cover her privates when she already had that big skirt on just wasn’t worth it… so she and the… well you already know her kid was pushed way up into her breasts... hustled down the creaking stairs and damn the cat again… that tail probably really did snap this time…but the cabby was there by chance and grabbed them faster than Bob Marley could toot a toke… burning to the plane… and they were gone in the sky… free in the clouds… where no one could take them … or hurt them… goodbye paradise that wasn’t … we will try again.
She knew there had to be a nickel or a dime missing from somebody's pocket. Everyone drops loose change and they never even know it... so she'd follow along behind their shiny shines shadowing the crook in the curb panting for the penny that Mr. Confident had let slip from his palm. That's what it was like to be dead ass broke in the middle of the seventies, in the middle of the winter, in the middle of the city, in the middle of a sad situation like hers. Yesterday things seemed to be normal... less of the drumming from upstairs getting on her nerves... and the pilot light was finally working. Hope wasn't out the window until that bottle of bourbon went flyin' along with the echoes from the same old fight. It happened that way every time they brought out the booze... then the bitters. Things were moving along alright until he jumped up with that big idea he swore he'd forget... they ought ta' BE somebody... and off it went... baby you are somebody... making things worse.... wayyyy fuckin’ worse... and he'd start chugging and chewing at his head and at the bottles...
Yo... the shoes she's following tonight have taps on the heels...
doesn't make no sense...
spending extra money to make sure everyone knows
Narrow passages on highway 41 and if you ever been there you know that a semi would whack the top of your brain right off if you twerked at the peddle crossing the double yellow but she knew how to handle whips and winds and got outta there with them corn tops waving goodbye. The flying radio belted the parkway spitting its guts on the pavement but still continued to play until the beetle she was driving along at fifty finally beat it into submission and Dolly's Mountain wail was finally quiet. She didn't need no radio to top lung it all the way to New York City. Back woods … Back Wards… Flippity Flip. She had the tiniest dream… could a grabbed hold and held it like that…. had her top hat and tails… had her tap shoes and wings… her tappity taps had juggled her jangles long enough to make her a solid hire… but see folks she wanted more. She broke her pointe shoes all the way down and never even bothered to replace them… knowing that her calves were too round and her ass was gonna fall for directors not choreographers soooo… what was the use of blowing out her pretties when she was gonna need them for her swags and swigs and her juicy juice was good to go when that door said a very clear audition so baby just walked – right – on – in.
Follow Kathryn @keatsk for more great work!