fionars
Sons. He had five of them. Had. Careless to lose a son you would think, so what would you think if I told you he lost three.
'Hold his head to the side,' he boomed, 'yes, just like that. Now saw in a circular motion.'
She sawed at the puppy's neck and the audience held in their gasps. It would be bad form for taxidermists to gasp. This wasn't even the real thing, just a demonstration.
The air was crisp and sharp, like the lines of a well pressed shirt. 'Why?' he breathed slowly, warmth whispering from his mouth. I shrugged and pulled the knife back out from his chest, watched soundlessly as he slumped onto the pavement. 'Because I could.'
It was an iron fist in my gut, twisting to and fro. It clenched around my stomach and heaved upwards, taking my legs with it. I looked up from the floor and wondered how all this had happened. I only wanted to say sorry, that's all.
Paul looked at it resting silently in his hands. He'd expected it to be far heavier but it felt similar to a can of coke, chunky but light. He rolled it from palm to palm then, in a fit of absurdity, he threw it into the air and caught it again as it fell. He repeated the action. Once. Twice.
'Paul!' the sergeant screamed suddenly from the doorway, making he jump to attention.
'This is not a playground soldier, put the grenade down.'
'yes sir' he replied. 'yes sir.'
Joe pressed himself up against her for the last time. He could feel her heart beat with his. For a moment he imagined their hearts bursting through the skin, throwing themselves carelessly together in a warm, sloppy embrace. As he pushed the thought away, he also pushed her, and when she was achingly at arms length he spun around and walked out onto the busy street.
It was hard to understand. 2x2 was alright, easy to handle. But one you got to 8x8, well, I was lost. The teacher made us play games and it hurt my face. Buzz buzzing of nonsense numbers. I hate times tables.
'Its a barber shop quartet'
'What?'
'In the garden, its a barber shop quartet.'
Arthur released the bloody hammer and stepped over the bodies of his neighbours to peek out into the street.
'Huh. Decent harmony'
Tommy and Arthur stood for a while longer before getting back to work with a pair of matching hacksaws, humming together tunelessly as they sawed limb by limb.
Age. Get older but wisers not the right word. Get older, know more and understand less. Is that wisdom? A life peppered with sage.
A new dawn, just as the rules dictate. The invention of the wheel was a along time ago - too long ago. The boundaries are shifting now, melting into one anther like molten acid. Shift yourself faster or you'll find yourself sinking alongside them. A warning to re-invent.
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writing since 2011 · 26 entries · 24 days shown up
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