MinetteTonoli

MinetteTonoli

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A kiss on the soul, a hug to the heart A whispered "hello", a "love you" to go A scribble on paper, a misspelled letter A cheap plastic bauble, a precious treasure A teardrop, a smile A moment in time, forever mine

I am under doctors orders. I pour two of the little white pills into the open palm of my hand. I imagine it is a choice between the blue pill and the red pill. Which one will I choose. Will I choose blissful ignorance. Will I choose the hard reality. I decide not to decide. Let the fates make the choice for me. I toss the pills behind my back, I try to disengage from guessing which one now holds which pill. I choose right hand. Looking at myself in the mirror, I smile. It is a sad smile. I swallow the pill without looking which one it was. Ignorance. Truth. Who cares.

His deep blue eyes looks into the distance. I'm not sure if he sees the world now - the beautiful seascape in front of him, or if he was looking deep into his past; his future. He purses his lips thinly, turns his wheelchair and beckons me. Time to go home.

The wooden floor was stained a dark chocolate colour, but the blood pool around the woman's head contrasted even darker. The CSI team was still busy gathering their bits and bobs, focusing on the physical evidence. Andrea stepped away from the body, she wasn't here to read the dead. She was here to read the life, the life that had bled out on the floor. Who was this blonde woman, in her mid thirties living in a small but very upmarket flat in the middle of the city? Andrea looked at the mantelpiece and the walls, but there were no photographs. She moved through the lounge, the study, the dining room- noting book titles, magazines, art, collections- anything really that could give her an understanding of the victim. No fingerprints in the system, no matches in missing persons, the neighbours barely knew her. The house and furnishings all seemed strangely sterile -as if it had no personality. Even the food cupboards seemed to be stocked by someone who read "A good pantry should have..." She was not getting any true "feel" from this woman's apartment. Until she opened the freezer.

The African Bush is sufficiently noisy, especially this close to the riverbank. Still, he takes great care in moving without making a sound. He now hides behind a thicket of scrub underneath an umbrella thorntree - the icon of the Savannah. His quarry is in sight. He can hear the men laughing, the fire crackling. Taking a deep breath, and without thought or remorse, he straightens up, shotgun pointed at the group. No longer needing stealth, he walks forward, deliberately crunching twigs and sticks. The men look up, but before their drunken congratulatory smiles could turn into frowns of questioning, he shot. Before he leaves to disappear into the Bushveld once again, he marks these men for the crime they had committed. Bush ranger Carl found the poachers the next morning. He had been tracking them since he found the carcasses of Nandi and her calf. Of their unknown avenger though, not a trace, not even for someone as skilled as Carl. Looking out at the veld, he's not sure he wants to find him.

slip

I slip into something more comfortable - my own thoughts. Far from the hustle and bustle of the city, of normal life, of typicality. Here, in the in-between, I can be wholly myself and have only myself for company.

slip

i slip slip slide away in my own thoughts... hither tither wanderings and this-that ramblings... such and such...

wind factored distance measured camouflaged laying in wait target acquired hairlines crossed fire job well done

I watched as she worked the land, digging into the earth with her bare hands. No, not quite right, she didn't work the land, she cajoled it, coddled it, caressed it, and it responded in great exuberant spurts of growth. Her garden was as wild as she was, and just as surprising, exciting, and endlessly abundant. Today she was digging new trenches for her compost, giving back to the land, keeping the cycle going. She looked up from under her wide brimmed straw hat and smiled, and if ever I believed in such things, I could've easily said that at that exact moment, Mother Earth smiled through her.

She rushed through the front door as the summer storm suddenly broke. Classically dressed in blue jeans, a white blouse and cowboy boots, with wavy blonde hair and blue eyes, she was the epitome of a carefree country girl. But she had her quirks. She walked up the stairs in a curious fashion - a dance of some sorts, muttering under her breath and as she passed the family photographs on the wall, she paused to make sure that they were all lined up, exactly right.

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writing since 2013 · 53 entries · 48 days shown up

each square is a day—lit means Minette showed up.

5longest streak

48days written

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on this day 13 years ago

Minette wrote about piano
“The wind howled outside, blustery gusts relentlessly throwing rain and sleet against the windowpanes. But inside Magnalinia Hall, it was warm and bright with festival goers reveling in every delight.…”

the words Minette reaches for

eyesperfectlookingdarklisteningcalamitynowmindredsmiledbluecitybitroomheadwhite