Lush

Lush, the grass under her feet sprang back almost as soon as her weight lifted, leaving no sign of her passing. The sun was warm on her tanned arms and face, the only skin exposed from the rough cloth dress. Her passage brushed branches, sending tiny droplets of water soaring through the air, each containing a hundred sparkling rainbows that arced downward to join the dewed dirt.

Her face was flushed like a lover’s, her breath coming in pants and gasps. Warbling cries followed her, each melodic and birdlike. Green blanketed her, the trees reaching around to caress her as she flew through the woodlands. A bird, white and gold, was startled from its perch by her passing, calling out as it flew out above the broad canopy.

The smell of woodsmoke suffused the area, deep and warming. It reminded her of winter nights by the hearth, sitting with her back to her father’s legs, laughing at something her mother said. Her feet pounded the ground, grass becoming dirt becoming sand. The cries changed from warbling to trilling. Splinters flicked from a tree to her right, abruptly separated from the trunk by a larger spike of wood. Another spear soon followed, its rough-hewn head slicing through the air like a fish through a stream. It plummeted short of its target, embedding itself in the sand, an angled monument to early man.

The trees thinned out, then stopped, and before the girl was only the vast expanse of the ocean. The low sun bounced light off of budding waves, each cresting in a swarm of gold before collapsing. The sand was cold beneath her feet, dirtying the front of the dress for brief moments before the collision with the water washed it clean. The chill of the water surprised her despite the early hour and she gasped, a sharp inhalation that shocked goosebumps down her arms. The dress collected water, immediately drooping and wallowing in the shallows. She grasped it as best she could and continued careening into the infinite blue.

A spear flew lazily from a man’s hand, loftily riding the air until it punctured the flesh on her back, slowing down, but not stopping until it jutted also from the front, now painted the red of fresh love. The girl stumbled and fell into the water, soaking the rest of the homespun dress. The trilling returned to warbling, muted as her head dipped beneath the surface. Crackles of seaweed brushed her face gently, welcoming her to its domain. Bubbles streamed from her mouth, each pocket of air carrying rainbows that parodied the dew on the trees and grass. Salt coursed over her tongue, the unmistakable taste that only seawater has, taking the place of the bubbles until the bubbles stopped coming.

The sun slowly ascended, warming the sand below. The sand had just one set of footprints, small marks made by feet excited to plunge into the water beyond. In the water, the waves swelled and collapsed onto the shore, blue in all the places except where they were a deep red. After a while, even the red receded, hiding somewhere out of sight, leaving no sign of her passing.

I've written a ton of depressing things lately, so I wanted to see if I could write something that was just describing happy things. I guess the answer is no?

And yes, dewed is a word. I checked.

Last Night

Last night I dreamt of a dark cave and an enormous eyeless beast. Last night I dreamt of an abyss wider than the country and deeper than the sea. Last night I dreamt of your hands on mine, and of your tears. Last night I dreamt of a world with no moon, and a moon with no sun. Last night I dreamt of words whispered and of words screamed, and heard no difference. Last night I dreamt no dreams. Tonight I will dream no more.


Blah blah depressing stuff. I had the image of a dark cave in my head, and then the abyss followed (probably because of the last piece I wrote), and then I sorta tied that into a few other images and boom here we go.

Abyss

There’s a place to the East that once was, but now never is. I go there, sometimes, when the weight of it all becomes too much to bear. That’s where you found me, teetering at the edge of the possibility of everything.

There is a place outside of town as endless as time. I had heard tales for as long as I remembered about why and when and what it was, but they were all just tales. I went there once, to see the abyss, and found a girl walking the precipice of nothingness.

You looked confused, as if I’d interrupted you and not the inverse. You stood by the trees, shadowed by their reaching arms. I didn’t mind though. I smiled. Company can be nice. Especially today.

I was somehow hurt, offended that someone could steal this moment from me. I hesitated at the edge of the clearing, feeling the canopy press down on me. She smiled, but I did not. I had not wanted company. Not today.

I shifted to the side with my arms raised for balance, making room for you at the edge. My silence was an invitation. We could look at impossibility together.

She wandered lazily along the border, not watching where she placed her feet, arms held aloft. I felt that I should do something, say something to stop her.

But you didn’t.

But I did not.

“I wonder how far down it is.”

“Farther than we can drop a stone.”

I sat down, swinging my feet through the cloudy darkness. The rock was rough beneath my palms. I brushed the sand off of them, watching it trickle away. It made a sound like coral when it slipped into the abyss.

She lowered her body until she sat with her legs over the edge. My breath caught. The nothingness called in a voice of midnight. I willed myself to leave, to go back to town and work and forget this place that never is.

You sat next to me.

I sat next to her.

“I don’t like staying at home.”

“I don’t know where home is anymore.”

I looked at your combed hair and fitted suit and clipped productivity and I smiled. Of course it was you. It could never have been anyone else. You embodied this place.

She looked at me with eyes as hollow as bone and smiled like the ocean. It no longer surprised me that you would be here when I was. You embodied this place.

“The world is filled with oozing grey. Maybe it had colours, once, but not for a long time now.”

“One day I woke up and realised that I no longer had fun. I do not know when. Perhaps this morning.”

I looked up at the bleeding moon and laughed, my legs slowly going numb. A rumble had started in the back of my skull, an aircraft or power tool.

I looked up at the cracked sky as she laughed, the colour leeching from my clothes. A crackle had started in the back of my skull, cellophane or lightning.

“Do you feel like letting go?”

“Do you?”

The rumble increased as I stood up, drawing my legs from the hungry pull of inevitability.

My clothes were white by the time I stood beside her, crackling with the static of the past.

You looked at me like you had known me your whole life, like waking next to your blood sister from a spontaneous nightmare of mundanity.

She looked at me like it was the millionth time, as familiar as her own skin laid out on the grey rock on which we stood.

“Walk with me to the end?”

We moved our feet, your left and her right, joined at the shin by the eternity that never was. For a single moment, we stood taller than all sentience.

There’s a place to the east of town that has never been. We had gone there for as long as we remembered, when the tales became too much to bear. That’s where we found each other, on the precipice of potential. We stared into the abyss, the void perfectly reflecting the world above, wondering how far down it was. Then we let go.

Bit of a weird one, this time. I haven't really played with the actual format of a snippet before, it's usually just the descriptions within it. I tried to use the spacing of the paragraphs to reflect the characters' relationship and it's not hugely clear but for a first attempt I'm pretty happy with it. 

Wallpaper

The peeling wallpaper is a dirty mustard, stained with a hundred silver lines and lives and loves and losses. Your eyes trace their erratic shapes in minutes that stretch for miles, slowly cracking under the immense pressure of unspoken wishes. A car door slams, somewhere beyond the wall. A glistening tear finds your lips and your tongue quests out, momentarily filling your mouth with the ocean.

You drove across the country once, a silver streak that cut through its core, to its core. You never knew the country until you had cut it down, split it into parts, its shattered pieces each a black mirror of the whole. She had been with you, then. She had filled the car with roses and earthy laughter, stripped you back beneath your skin and sailed silver across your soul.

The stained wallpaper is reflected in your shattered eyes. The dusty air is pushed from your lungs, then pulled back in. There are traces of her still, in the distant smell of woodsmoke, the creak of the motel bed, the light fleeing the room. The car's engine has stopped. Heavy boots are dragging your future toward your past. The boots are black and grey. You know this.

She had left before, but always returned, trailing emerald and sapphire through the hallway and scrubbing her boots clean of rubies. When she last left, you knew it would be different. Silver sliced across your body and you fell apart while she turned and disappeared.

The door opens easily and the boots drag the future inside, gemstones shattering on the tiles. You inhale, pulling in the dusty air, now tinged with roses. She says nothing, and you reply in kind. Your future meets your past, one long and one short, and then the boots turn and disappear.

Rubies cover the bed, soaking into the sheets. A car door slams. The wallpaper is a dirty mustard, stained with a hundred and one silver lines and lives and loves and losses.