Saturday, June 21

Steph was bored, completely and utterly bored. everyone had gone to bed and she couldn't sleep to save herself, so rather than lying awake in bed, her eyes relentlessly flickering over the shadows, she was silently roaming the house. but everything is louder at night, or at least seems to be, Steph wasn't sure how quiet she was really being as every floor board seemed to cry out, light switches producing a clicking echo that bounced around the house. she sat at the kitchen table, a deck of cards beckoning, and started to play solitaire. after a while she played freecell and then went onto pyramid and tri-peaks, her eyes becoming fuzzing but her mind still ticking over madly. also on the kitchen table was Sophie's wallet, a very tempting and dangerous endeavor. She began to notice herself eying it off as the cards flipped over and piled on top of one another. There wasn't any intent to look or count or take the money it most likely enclosed, only the curiosity of the other treasures and residents that made it bulge, so plump and proud. used metcards, ticket stubs, reward cards, library cards, old receipts, random items of jewelery, lists, reminders, phone numbers, old photo ID's, Steph's mind ticked over the possible inhabitants, each much more intriguing than they would be at a less nocturnal hour. Giving in, she put away the playing cards and reached over for the wallet, it's smooth leather nature cool to the touch. she toyed with the prestud fastener, eventually opening it like a book filled with little stories of Sophie. she slowly took out each of the cards, lining them up neatly on the table cloth, each likely a prized discovery. they were all the usual suspects as contents go, but there was one thing that caught her attention. tucked in the corner of the note section was a quite old receipt, folded several times. most of the printing was faded, Steph thought she could make out the word "chocolate", the date stamp 25/9/06 and the safeway logo, but what was really prominent was the picture drawn on the opposite side in black pen. even though it was smudged by the folding and weight of the wallet, it was still well preserved. it was of a girl looking out a window, probably of a train or bus or tram, it was a very good drawing for such a small piece of paper and purely black pen. Steph was in awe of this amazing little treasure, it was like holding a winning lottery ticket. down the bottom corner was a sentence that made little shivers tickle her backbone, confusing and changing the context of the picture; "don't fail to live", all in lower case, written over multiple times. she could sense an eerie familiarity and was almost certain see had seen it, or something very much like it, before. it could have just been fictional, but it seemed to have a real quality to it, as if draw by observation. examining the faded print again, the date nagged at her, her 18th birthday, a small mystery in itself. she stifled a laugh as she tried to remember what she actually did for her 18th, it could of course be purely coincidence that Sophie bought chocolate the same day. looking over the drawing again she noticed one of those pin-wheel toys clutched in the girl's hand, bringing a sudden confrontation of identity. it was Sophie. Steph was beginning to wonder if Sophie had drawn it at all as she reflected on the tram ride back from the city with Sophie and a couple of other friends after her birthday celebrations. She heard a light switch click in another room, bringing her out of dazed awe of the puzzle resting in her hands. Quickly she folded the receipt and stuffed it back into it's resting place. Her heart sank as she looked at the rest of the cards neatly spread out over the table, she was sure there was an order, and Sophie was one who would notice. Footsteps could be heard, traveling in the direction of the bathroom, followed by the closing of a door. Graced with precious, extra minutes, she assigned the cards into a semi-logical order and slotted them into what she hoped were the right spots. Closing the wallet she could feel her pulse racing, an uneasy readiness to bolt if discovered. The wallet was returned to it's original position and Steph slowly got up, quietly as possible. pushing the chair in she heard the bathroom door open again, accompanied by footsteps. she paused, unsure whether they would come into the kitchen area or just return to their room. Steph was even slightly confused as to why she was so edgy, was this guilt? did she really cross some line of privacy that her body was unconsciously aware of?
"Heys, you still up?"
Steph spun around violently, then froze light a wild animal in headlights. It was Mark, Steph sighed with the arrival of safety. he didn't care about much, which could easily been seen by what he slept in, or didn't sleep in, sporting only a pair of loosely waist-banded, green boxer shorts.
"Ah... yeah, just heading to bed now." Steph said, adding in a fake yawn for effect.
"Sm'okay, have a good one" Mark replied, hitching up the back of his boxers, not a very appealing sight. Steph returned to her room and got into bed, cursing her curiosity as her mind wandered around in circles on her sleep deprived decisions. Mark however, stayed in the kitchen for a while, flipping through the cards in Sophie's wallet, hoping to find an old ID photo to put up on facebook to get her back for the one she put up of him. If she could go through his wallet, why couldn't he go through hers?

edited in agreement with commentations (i'm aware that 'commentations' isn't a word, just has a more official feel than 'comments'), not sure if i like this ending either, but at least it's an ending this time.

Thursday, June 19

her delicate hands moved like liquid poetry, majestic, fluid continuations of her arms and hands and fingertips rippled through the air like an enthralling afterimage. each sign symbolized something, a silent language, but she 'spoke' in such a manner that one didn't need to know the meaning to be consumed in its beauty. in her beauty. David glanced up from his paper, his fingernails piercing the edges of the weak newsprint as fingers tingled slightly in reaction to such a sight. folding the paper he didn't drop his gaze, mesmerized by the sweeping soft expressions born of her alluring flesh. she paused, her hands hanging in the air as she watched her companion's reply. David's eyes wandered away from the source of stimulation only to stumble across many more, her eyes, her nose, her lips. her lips that twitched ever so slightly, perfectly placed and spaced, a hint of moisture reflecting the yellow glow of the train carriage's lighting. She started talking again, in the same flowing manner, but David's focus readjusted to the seductive curvature that was serving as a most enticing background. He noticed her hands clench into fists, an ugly yet passionate transformation, but was still staring quite blatantly at her breasts snuggly hiding under an incredibly tight, green t-shirt. She stood up and approached him, her language more abrasive than the symphony David had just enjoyed. His mind was running with scenes of a more personal encounter as her vibrant hand and open palm slapped him across the face. Even in the consequential daze, David managed to grip the meaning and apologized profusely in a voice, in a language, as a person that meant nothing to her.

thanks sandy and observer for sticking around for it, hope it lived up to some of the anticipation... maybe a slight exaggeration. haha. peace.

Wednesday, June 18

"Serge and Ruth broke up last year, she'd been sleeping with another. He took it pretty hard, he blamed her a little and then himself a lot, then something clicked and he kind of stopped showing what he was feeling. He used to put the man in mansuetude, quite the gentleman really, now he's just alone, and ruthless, unable to more forward."Bianca sighed before emptying the rest of her glass of wine. Sarah had to stop herself from asking "Serging forward?", it wasn't really something you made a joke about.

Sunday, June 15

the reel clattered frantically against the plastic as its coat was stripped, inch by inch, from it's ever thinning body. a metal spear ensured none of the reel's escape attempts were successful, holding it captive from the inside. any other personified object would have felt extremely dizzy and nauseated from the continuous spinning experience, but the reel was helpless and hopeless, so much so that it couldn't think or feel or do anything. maybe it really was because it was just a wooden, cotton reel and never had such attributes. an object with a purpose but no conscious existence possibly in place to balance out the conscious but purposeless entities that grace and consume the planet.

Friday, June 13

Shane's head hit the glass coffee table twice before it shattered violently, littering the carpet with glittering shrapnel. the hand interwoven in his hair, clenching painfully against his scalp pulled him back up, only to throw him against the green plush sofa. Shane tried to move his own hands, to try and soften the oncoming blows, but they wouldn't even twitch for him, as if they'd given up already, packed their bags and flown away. He couldn't open his eyes, if not for the fear of the encounter then for the severe swelling that was pushing and pulsating around them, creating red and golden sparks behind his eyelids. There was blood in his mouth, he could feel the ironically metallic tasting liquid slosh out over his burning lips. there was no urgency to empty his mouth though, much like his hands and eyes and everything else, it was lethargic. he was also sure that if he tried to spit it out a fair few teeth would follow suit, their little white suits stained the passionate colour of roses. he tried to think of the flowers, but they shook and shifted with each blow. at some stage the impacts stopped reaching him, whether he had blacked out or whether they had actually ceased he was unsure, all he knew is that he could finally hold the fragile petals in his hands without them turning to dust. It was peacefully quiet. He looked up from his hands and saw a majestic field of sunshine and vibrant colour, and a dog. Strangely a dog, surprisingly a dog, and it was running towards him, it's long yellow mane flowing like waves across it's back.
"Shane," whispered the dog, "Shane"
Shane didn't answer, just marveled at the wonder of a talking dog. He reached for it, but as he touched it's brilliant coat a shock rung through his body, once and then twice. the dog disappeared, colour vanished, everything became a confusing mesh of blinding white and consuming black.
"Shane" he heard again, which out of everything stunned him slightly, as the dog was gone.
A terrific pain tore through his chest, clawing it's way up his windpipe, riping at his throat and out his mouth. His eyes flickered as much as they could under the weight of the swelling as his body coughed and spluttered, lightly splattering blood over the eerily white surround. A blur of non-white crossed his vision and he heard his name again and again. he tried to open his mouth, but his jaw refused. his attempted to move his hand, but nothing came of it, nothing came of any of his attempts to communicate outside himself. So he lay there, conscious, bleeding and alone, surrounded by souls working to save his life.

sorry i haven't written for a while... well i have, but they never get finished and just hang out in the drafts folder. hope you are well.