Archive for June 2007

part of something else.

June 27, 2007

She clicked her heels three times and nothing happened. The trees scattered in every direction, filtering the sun from above, splitting the light into needles and pins. They danced across the forest floor in the breeze, highlighting the fallen leaves, moss, twigs other bits that made up the tree’s carpet. The breeze did not touch her; the trees took it all for themselves. For her the air was soft, comforting. She took two steps and looked around again. No different. The same trees, still scattered.

A deep breath, a smile, and she stepped forward again, walking among the dancing needles of light and murmuring trees in their gentle breeze.

rain dog

June 16, 2007

Everything is wet. Clouds sit low, pouring out their innards towards earth, never to empty. The rain falls, not in drops, but in a continuous stream, like a morning shower.

Everything is heavy.

The lab sniffs at the edge of a puddle, eyes on the perpetual ripples left by the torrent. Her hair’s matted to her body, shining in the dreich light. She laps briefly at the murky, disturbed water and backs away. She’s alone on the road. The hedgerow on either side glistens under the downpour. She trots off, a streak of black against the grey, seeking shelter and food.

seat on the stairs

June 8, 2007

Bong?

No thanks, I’ve already eaten.

Huh?

Nevermind.

The room shudders and swims a bit. She walks towards the stairs and takes a seat on the lower steps. A small sip from her plastic cup. Warm lager. A grimace follows.

almost verse or a part of a beginning

June 5, 2007

The smell of pine and summer dust
The sound of hooves
The bird’s call
The birds answer
The trumpet sounds
He runs

A beginning.

June 4, 2007

The forest hushed but for the sound of breaking pine needles beneath his feet. Nothing breathed. The noise left a vacuum. The absence of sound filled his ears. The boy stepped forward again and nodded towards the tree stump.

Atop it sat a squirrel, rusty, suspicious, tail curled over the top of its head. Its black eyes marked the child.

He took another step.

A horn sounded in the distance, piercing the air, filling the vacuum. The squirrel was gone.

The boy froze.