Sunday, January 08, 2006
reslashed...III
there it was. as dark as the night, and laying before her. it was so inviting she just had to take it; by both hands and pull, tug and drag it across the room, out the door and into the night before anyone would have time enough to return home. it was perfect. a crime by incident. no motive and no connection.[1]
in such times she would remember childhood beliefs of a grandfatherly god looking over her; approving and disapproving of anything she did. the moment was more than inspired. it was engineered. and who, at this moment, would not believe for a second that a creator had a hand in this world. that the life of god walked among the lives of men.
however, like all moments, this one passed. soon enough she had closed the boot to her 1997 model BMW sedan. the motor burst into ignition, and with a little too much anticipation the tyres skidded on the leafy surface. a solid grip of rubber and earth; the blue sedan sped out of sight, leaving the door swinging in the draft.
the out of town weekender would lie vacant for at least another three days. just because amy had taken a wrong turn and refused to turn back when her better part realised that she was indeed lost, did not for any point in time make her a victim. sure she was running. she was hurt. but again she knew she brought it upon herself more than anything else.
this was stupid. the whole idea. the series of events. the extraordinary amount of time she would need to spend away for the whole idea to blow over necessitated a second life in another city. what did she think she was doing. that she would spend a week at her mother's, then return home with everything forgotten about and her life awaiting her return.
it was never going to be the same. the words have never made more sense. "...oh i wish i could and i will but i just don't have the time..."
and then she missed the turn-off. did not even see it amongst the vegetation. something that would come as second nature to amy. chicks would beck and call for their mother's food amy would blindly strike a path home. to her mother's home. today she drove onwards.
her mind was not merely pre-occupied. it was infested. hijacked to the point of dysfunction. it was a miracle that amy still had the bodily control to operate her vehicle. what finally awoke her from the myriad of internal conflict between conscious thought and the alien infestation that had been doing ever so well at taking control of her inner sanctum, was indeed a length of drool that fell from her lower lip and struck her naked foot. the awkward feeling induced a reflex action to look at the cause of such an interruption.
the downward movement maneuvered the sedan in left bearing direction into an exit lane. amy eventually sat upright and when her brain recognized the road the little of her left realised she was lost. yet the sedan careered onwards.
later, rather than sooner, the BMW had to stop. either by application to the breaks or careening into a house. the car preferred, and opted for, the former.
directions. a map. a location. a phone to call mother. anything would have been nice. what amy discovered in the summer villa was perfect. it seemed that she would not have to visit her mother after-all.
[1] a point must be made at this position in the document. there has been much harassment to the point of sleep, that my paragraphs are painfully long and make the reading all the more difficult. in this allotment of reslashed i have evidently collated smaller paragraphs. now you know why.
in such times she would remember childhood beliefs of a grandfatherly god looking over her; approving and disapproving of anything she did. the moment was more than inspired. it was engineered. and who, at this moment, would not believe for a second that a creator had a hand in this world. that the life of god walked among the lives of men.
however, like all moments, this one passed. soon enough she had closed the boot to her 1997 model BMW sedan. the motor burst into ignition, and with a little too much anticipation the tyres skidded on the leafy surface. a solid grip of rubber and earth; the blue sedan sped out of sight, leaving the door swinging in the draft.
the out of town weekender would lie vacant for at least another three days. just because amy had taken a wrong turn and refused to turn back when her better part realised that she was indeed lost, did not for any point in time make her a victim. sure she was running. she was hurt. but again she knew she brought it upon herself more than anything else.
this was stupid. the whole idea. the series of events. the extraordinary amount of time she would need to spend away for the whole idea to blow over necessitated a second life in another city. what did she think she was doing. that she would spend a week at her mother's, then return home with everything forgotten about and her life awaiting her return.
it was never going to be the same. the words have never made more sense. "...oh i wish i could and i will but i just don't have the time..."
and then she missed the turn-off. did not even see it amongst the vegetation. something that would come as second nature to amy. chicks would beck and call for their mother's food amy would blindly strike a path home. to her mother's home. today she drove onwards.
her mind was not merely pre-occupied. it was infested. hijacked to the point of dysfunction. it was a miracle that amy still had the bodily control to operate her vehicle. what finally awoke her from the myriad of internal conflict between conscious thought and the alien infestation that had been doing ever so well at taking control of her inner sanctum, was indeed a length of drool that fell from her lower lip and struck her naked foot. the awkward feeling induced a reflex action to look at the cause of such an interruption.
the downward movement maneuvered the sedan in left bearing direction into an exit lane. amy eventually sat upright and when her brain recognized the road the little of her left realised she was lost. yet the sedan careered onwards.
later, rather than sooner, the BMW had to stop. either by application to the breaks or careening into a house. the car preferred, and opted for, the former.
directions. a map. a location. a phone to call mother. anything would have been nice. what amy discovered in the summer villa was perfect. it seemed that she would not have to visit her mother after-all.
[1] a point must be made at this position in the document. there has been much harassment to the point of sleep, that my paragraphs are painfully long and make the reading all the more difficult. in this allotment of reslashed i have evidently collated smaller paragraphs. now you know why.
Labels: shortstory
¶ 9:56 pm