‘I’m sorry.’ She whispers softly beneath her breath. She is standing just meters in front of me, her hands hug her thin and unique body, her face, without expression is soft and delicate.
‘I was confused, I’m sorry, I was scared.’
‘Don’t be scared, I’m here now. You are so beautiful.’ I say as I watch her eyes tense with tears. ‘Come here, hold me, be near me; please,’ I continue as I reach out to grasp her in my arms.
‘Cock-a-doodle-doo’
Fuck where did she go, WHERE DID SHE GO! My heart races and my throat chokes. I lay awake, it’s dark. My sweat grows cold and I reach to the end of the small and lonely bed for a blanket.
‘Cock-a-doodle-doo,’ the rooster crows again.
Quiet rooster, quiet! Not now you piece of shit, not now. She was right their, right their in front of me and you woke me. Fuck.
I fold the blanket around me, tighter, feeling its comfort as it holds me in the night. Where did you go, come back please.. Please come back. I need to go back to sleep, I’m coming, PLEASE WAIT FOR ME.
A gentle gust picked up from the east and through the small timber window beside my bed, I can just make out the shodow of some leaves, beneath the fading moon they dance and rustle to the calling of the wind. It’s almost morning, maybe that’s why the rooster calls, or is it that he is scared. Are you scared rooster, quiet now, quiet now, it’s time to sleep, don’t be scared. Just a few more hours rooster, please, just a few more hours.
‘Cock-a-doodle-doo.’
Fuck, shut the fuck up now! I warn you, I’ll cut your throat before dawn and boil you in the deepest pot. Quiet. Sleep.
‘Cock-a-doodle-doo,’ the rooster sounds again.
What’s the point, she was never really their, was she. The tears run down my face and drop to the pillow, more follow, and I squeeze tighter.
‘Why did you go, why, please tell me why.’
She shrugs her thin shoulders and I watch as the skin pulls tight over the hollow of her collarbone. Her lips are straight and her eyes, sad with unexplained emotion stare around the room.
‘Cock-a-doodle-doo.’
I lay awake in the small cluttered room, my head searching for answers. The rooster keeps calling to the wonder of the morning, but the sun takes an eternity to rise and I sit sleepless in my own sweat. I want to sleep, I’m scared to sleep. I know she will be their, just a figment of my own imagination with no more answers than if I was awake. Please leave. Just leave me alone, I’m tired.
I watch through the shutters as the silky grey of night gives way to the brilliant colours of spring, ripe reds, pinks and greens. Beautiful flowers give glory to those who seek there beauty, as small lifeless limbs sprout supple new shoots. Birds, collecting slaters and slugs, dash from branch to branch and wag there tails with glee as I watch with a fresh feeling in my heart.
‘Cock-a-doodle-doo,’ the rooster crows again.
That’s it; I’m killing that fucking thing!
About Me
- Juice
- The Road, Australia
- I blog the way I wash, poor and infrequent. It’s a style that developed along the way. From the Western Australian desert I was inspirated , writing became my inspiration to live, and living became my reason not to write (well regularly). Two years have passed since I broke my ties with the middle class chain gang. A tough decision, but well rewarded. Beautiful women, exciting friends and exotic places keep me going, and now, I’m on the road between here and there. My goal for this blog; fiction inspired by experiences. Hope you enjoy.
Currently being inspired by:
Currently Reading
The Original Scroll - On The Road
The other way to blow off some spare gas.
For the blues
Currently giving me an eargasm:
4 comments:
How the fuck did you get hold of the scroll? Are you teasing? You are. Dammit.
That story never fails to blow me away. Imagine having the time to sit down and wind one end of the scroll into the typewriter and keep writing until the novel is done.
The mother and (fish)wife in me says rather sardonically "It's just as well he had a woman to put meals in front of him, wipe his arse and look after his kids, or else we would never get to read this gem."
I really enjoy following your journey Juice ...
Henry Miller, try him out, if you haven't already. and Bukowski. Yes.
Talk about a cock block.
The rooster still doesn't beat that damn woodpecker banging on the drain pipe outsde my bedroom window last year. :)
Ocean Spray Cranberry Juice (1L) offers a refreshing burst of tart and sweet flavors, made with real cranberries. Packed with Vitamin C and antioxidants, it's a delicious, health-conscious beverage choice. Perfect for sipping, mixing into cocktails, or enhancing smoothies, this juice is a versatile addition to any occasion.
Post a Comment