Hidden Truth

No one said anything… Eight eyes looked down at the bloody floor. The air felt a bit too quiet and it smelled like iron. They all stood there, at odds with the situation.

They were not confused, nor were they conflicted by the horrific act committed. No, they were at odds because none of them knew what to do now. They had no idea on how to make this problem go away.

Eventually they all tore their eyes from the mess between them. Then, one by one, they sat down on the only clean patch they could find. Finally someone spoke.

It was a tall boy with dark hair. “How many people know about tonight?” He asked his companions.

A girl, lean and doll like shook her head, “Apart from us and them, I don’t know. If they confided in a third party it was without us knowing.”

One of the group had been sitting quite still, staring into space. He had brown eyes laced with bright yellow, making him look like a cat. His features were somewhat round, although not so much that one would call him fat. After about ten minutes of the party throwing ideas in the air he spoke, quietly.

“We’re just kids.” Everyone turned to look at him, confused and terrified.

It seemed that one of their companions were about to cave. Then as he looked up they saw the spark in his eyes.

“We are just kids, remember that.” With this he smiled and got up.

Quietly he made his way to the car and took out a stack of notes. The others followed suit…

***

“What did you lot get up to last night?” Asked a chubby woman sitting at a kitchen table.

A girl, her intellect hidden by youth and beauty, passed the woman a cup of tea.

“Not much,” she said with a smile, “just being kids.”

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A Dialogue of Misfits (Part #3)

(Arrow makes a discovery)

Passage written after set discovery. Can be interpreted as narrative.

Pain shot through his entire body. He felt as if he would vomit. Arrow hurried back to the car, not bothering to cover his tracks. How had he not known, he thought. he went though the very same thing, gave her the same excuses, yet he ignorantly believed her lies.

On his way home Arrow received a text from his mother to pick her up from the store. He turned the car around only to turn back again. he sped off…

Star is sitting on the stairs, leaning against the wall. Brakes can be heard outside. The back door opens wildly and from the front of the house commotion can be heard.

Father : Who is_ Arrow? Boy! What are you doing here, go pick up that mother of yours.

Arrow rushed though the kitchen and makes his way to the basement door.

Father : Were are you going? Stop_ you_ wait_

The basement door slams shut and is locked from the inside.

Arrow : Star? Star! No, you can’t go to sleep. You have to stay awake!

Star : I so tired… just a few minutes.

Arrow : I know but you just can’t okay?

Arrow lifts Star’s face and sighs.

Arrow : Come on_ You have to help me… I cant carry you.

A racket can be heard as someone tries to open the door. Arrow goes and locks the top and bottom levers of the door.

The travelling Gypsy…

With skin like the pale man and the spirit of a bear…

A strange sight indeed, it was to behold her. She poke with a delicate tonge that sounded strange to those in court. The grass planes were warm, but the people in between the stems were cold.

Forever she wandered, never standing still…

There came a day, the sun was low and the water high. A little lad was running about. He was nearly taken by the sea when a pale skined woman lured him beyond the dunes.

I suppose it does seem odd, roaming the earth like that…

Now they write the tale of a man, with the skin of a savage, who walks among the land. His hart weary of greed, holds the knowledge of the white man.

About updates

This one is not a story

I would like to appologize for not writing any new pieces the last month. I had some affairs to get in order. I will, as of nex week, continue with a weekly post. The schedule might be a bit bouncy but I will try and ensure one story between Monday-Sunday.

Thank you for your understanding…

Today

Today the sun shines. It is warm and there are but a few leaves worming out of the trees. I can hear an abundance of birds singing high and low…

Outside near the washing line I collect a basket. As I turn around I find I have to stop, it seems I have picked up three shadows today and they are eager to help. I smile and hand them the basket. The boys run to the washroom. The two eldest hold the basket so I can unload the wet clothes while dodging what sounds like a singing monkey. I point to the washing line and ask them to put the basket down on the rocks. I watch them struggling up the side to get to the end of the rock. They take slow, steady steps, all the while talking about something very important. I see the older one smiling as he lowers his side of the basket. It seems sitting down was the best option. Looking at his brother he smiles again and gives him a high five.

I turn to the dirty washing and gather a new load. On my way to the machine I pick up my forgotten shadows and ask them to bring me the rest of the load. So off they run_ I see my Blue eyed angel arrive with the rest of the load. The load is too much so we quickly lessen it. I turn, only to find proud child trotting up the pathway with a large blanket. All I can do is try hide my amusement.

I guide the boys through the workings of the machine _I seem to have lost my singing monkey_ and off we go to the line. My shadows effectively remove themselves as I start hanging up clothes.

A little body is playing under the washing line, just mussing my feet. I hear the other two behind me on the rocks. I look at the cloudless sky and listen to the birds sing.

“Look!” I hear a voice say. I look sideways and see them in a tree. They are using all their might and climbing as high as they possibly can. What an adventure! My hart smiles. My little cupid is asking me to look at him climb. I laugh and congratulate him. I scan the yard for a sigh of that singing monkey. The white Bully and a small mutt is under the tree staring at the boys. A few paces from the trees and washing line I see the Pit-bull, comfortably lying on the grass with a stick. On his back is a small boy with slender legs and white hair, calmly stroking the dog’s neck.

I gin from ear to ear. Today is a memory, a perfect moment that stories are based on. Today, in this moment, this memory we have become immortal.

Because you cannot…

The day was warm, for winter anyway. We lay between the sheets. The soft of the cotton rubbing against my face. I turn on my side and a light breeze pulls through the cavity. The air is colder than I thought. I lie content, staring at a blank wall, tracing the cracks, hoping to find a new imperfection. Something moves slowly and I feel her arm wrap around me.

Suddenly my happiness fades. I turn around to look at her. I want to inhale every moment and save it, forever. this moment, right here. I look at her and smile, helplessly fighting my tears. she strokes my neck.

“Be happy,” she says. “Forever!”

Her laughter fills the air. Music rings in my ears. I close my eyes, letting water flow. ‘Forever.’ Such a long time, is it not. How can I possibly hold on?

The sun filters into the room, turning her skin to gold. Her brown eyes filled with hope, happiness. ‘Forever.’
*

Those words, like chimes that never end. The sun is rising over mountain tops. I’ve walked these trails for a year now and every moments I find some new wonder. In the pauses between time, the gaps that fill space, beneath it all we lie. The ground is cold, the water refreshing. The air is on fire and I see you in flames that towers above me. i hear your voice, my never ending song.

Forever, forever, forever, forever and ever. ‘Forever.’

Even when it ended, your smile still said forever. Your eyes still filled with hope. Now I live apart, never able to share that smile. strange, is it not, how short a time it really is. I love the sky. I love the sun. And the water, the dust and the stars so very far. I love them forever. I love them for you can no longer love them yourself.

Boekrak

Die reuk van ink en lood wat papier vlek. Papiere netjies gebind in nuwe leer. ñ Boek, versigtig versorg, vingers wat elke blaai met trots hanteer. Die stof, leer ink an papier, díe ou reuk het my altyd tuis laat voel.

Ek onthou nog hoe ek soggens op die heel boonste trap voor my kamer sit en deur n boek blaai. Die son wat deur die ronde venster inklim. stadig word die kammer warmer en warmer. Daardie venster was ingebou om vir my ‘natuurlike’ leeslig the gee. Dit was baie gerieflik, en lekker, maar op keer sal ek te besig raak en sou ek die son mis. Op so n dag sou daar vir my n kersie opgesteek word sodat ek ten minste na die prente in die boeke kon kyk. Die kerslig was aar swak en ek het dit moeilik gevind om daarmee te lees.

My kamer was bokan my oom se kantoor. Dit was só n ronde kamer, binne in die dak. Oom het gese dit was dodat ek die huis veilig kon hou…

My kamer het nie n deur gehaad nie, net n geboë opening wat dadelik gevolg was deur trappe wat afgaan na my oom se kantoor.Die trappe was pragtig! Elke trapwas gemaak van groot mooi donker hout. Die trappe was so uiteengesit dat dit n perfekte heliks vorm. Die trappe is vasgehou deur n paal wat in die middel afgeloop het. Gemaak van n heuning kleur hout met die mooiste patrone op.

Die trappe was meer sooos n tonnel. Vanaf die kantoorvloer, waar die trappe begin, tot by die opening in my kamer was n silindriese muur met rakke in. Die rakke was diep en hoog genoeg om groot boeke in te stoor. In my oom se kantoor was die tonnel in hie hoek weggesteek en n mens moet mooi kyk om die eerste trap te vind.

Somtyds, as die werêld stil was, volgens my oom, kon ek buite ronddwaal en my stories uitbeeld. Elke nou en dan sou die stilte verbreek word deur ligte wat in die verte opsteek. Op slag sou die honde opstaan en beduiweld word. Sulke tye was altyd gepaard met my oom se wyse woorde…

“Dis oorlogtyd, Poplap.” Sou my oom rustig sê en by die agterdeur staan en wag.

Oorlogtyd was wegkruiptyd. Ek sou na my kamer hardloop en n kers opsteek, tot in die middel van die trappe afloop en gaan sit.

Terwyl my oom die werêld berus, reg onder my, sou ek lees. Ek het gelees tot die werêld onder my verdwyn het en wegraak in die woorde op my skoot.