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| Thursday, August 17, 2006 |
| A Girl, A Man and a Woman. |
She hears the screams as she's walking to the grocery store.
She doesn't think much of it. There's a daycare, and a small park in the vicinity of the screams.
There's also a trail, and dense woods. And the screaming continues.
But kids scream sometimes-she's been startled by how scary children sound when playing sometimes, their bellows of gladness sounding menacing and worrisome.
She walks on to the store, mentally making her list.
But she can't shake the sound of that girl screaming. She checks "garbage bags" off her list, and hears in her head what sounds like gasping. She reaches for "peanut butter-natural" and thinks about what might be happening.
Perhaps she should check across the road on her way back. Just in case. Just to feel better. If it's just kids, it's just kids. It's like just kids anyway.
She spends the rest of her trip up and down the aisles thinking about justifying crossing the road to herself.
She pays for her groceries, stuffs them in her backpack, and trudges back up the road. She feels her heart accelerate with 'what if's". She finds herself walking slower.
She hears a scream again, but it's lower, and not as pained. She begins to rethink her plan when another scream echoes through the street, and is cut short. She hurries her steps.
She walks towards where the sound come from, past the daycare, past the park, into the woods down the path worn down my ATV's and city trucks. It's an accessroad to sewer access, doesn't go anywhere really, but it's dark and quiet and away from the road.
She walks for a bit, thinks she hears a struggle, then notices birds in the tree ahead. She decides to go 20 more feet, and then go home is she sees nothing. She's just blowing it out of proportion maybe. How many kids scream "you aren't my mommy!" and things like that when mad?
Just ahead, almost out of site she sees a shoe, and a small coat. She drops her own backpack and hurries ahead.
Off the path to the right, just slightly, there was a clearing. And quite clearly, the woman saw a man grappling and raping a small girl. From what she could see, the girl was about 8, but fighting him every moment. She watched him beat the small girl around the face until she relented a bit so he could continue. But her strength came back again and again.
The woman stood transfixed, trying to find her courage within the hate that suddenly burned up her throat. Her eyes met the girls, and she mouthed "Don't move" like the girl had the option anyway.
In one swift move, the woman rushed forward, and dragged the man off by his hair. He was startled, and didn't fight. She threw him down, and aimed her foot for his face. She saw blood before she saw black.
When she came to, the place where his face had been was a bloody mess, his fingers pulpy stumps. But she had not destroyed between his legs. She wiped the blood spatter from her face and turned to face the girl.
She sat mute, terrified, horrified, unable to do much but quiver. Blood was pooling underneath her, and dripped from her nose. The woman bent to her, and wrapped her sweater around her.
"It's ok now. You're safe with me."
The girl tried to speak, found she couldn't. The woman dropped to her knees and looked her in the yes.
"I want you to know that I only found you because you fought. I heard your screams, I heard you fighting, and that brought me to you. People will try and tell you that it was dangerous to fight back, but they're wrong. You rescued yourself. Don't forget that."
The girl nodded, and wiped her own face. "Is....is he alive?" she trembled.
The woman looked down, "Sadly. But I won't call 911 until you have your own revenge."
The girl looked up at her as the Woman reached down to pick her up. Once on her feet, she said "I'm going to give you some time to hurt back now. " She pointed the Girl in the direction of the Man.
The Girl looked down at the Man, and raised her foot over his face. She shook, and couldn't do it. She put her foot down.
The Woman grabbed her then, and shook her. "He just stole your childhood, your innocence, your safety, everything. Take it BACK."
The Girl licked her lips, and turned back to him. He was groaning slightly, and trying to move. He gaze moved down to his still exposed penis, his pants around his ankles, almost off.
She raised her leg, and came down with all the strength she could muster on it. The scream he let loose was almost the same as the ones that had brought the woman to her. She came down again and again and again, until the tears ran free on her face, and the screams she set free were battlecries instead of cries for help. The man stopped moving.
The Girl stopped, and looked at the Woman, who only looked back. The Girl turned, and spit full into the face of the Man, and then crumpled to the ground. The Woman started forward, and realized the Girl had fainted. She sat down and cradled the Girl's head in her lap as she opened up her phone. |
posted by thordora @ 9:10 AM  |
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| Tuesday, July 11, 2006 |
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Back before, they were just two kids in love.
Nic always joked that he knew they'd be together from the first moment they met, him waiting patiently for his prescription, she being the quiet clerk trying to figure out what she wanted from life. She rang through the drugs for the clap. He came back again once it was cured.
Marnie, for her part, always claimed that she never really noticed him, never noticed any customer for that matter. Too shy by far, she rarely looked over he glasses at strangers, hiding behind manners and good taste. Much as her mother wanted it. When Nic came back again, this time buying toilet paper, she noticed only his thick worn hands. Dirty, used hands. hands that had a purpose, that were unafraid of a little trial, a little work. Marnie decided to look up.
Nic was only able to work up the courage to ask her out the fourth time her went shopping. The third was her day off, and resulted in a wasted trip and extra bleach. The fourth she was rummaging through a counter of cough syrup, purging the almost past dated items for the sale bin. He surprised her by walking so quietly, and again by holding roses. He had checked for her this time.
Her parents hated him intensely. |
| posted by thordora @ 4:44 PM |
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| Tuesday, June 27, 2006 |
| One, II |
Marnie slumps back into a tired, restless trance. He thinks she's asleep, doesn't dare move.
Her watch tells him he has 15 minutes left.
A girl.
The blue coat across the hall slides off the chair, and the legs appear, attached to a body in the doorway across the hall. Nik raises his eyes up her body to her face. She's tired. He can see she's as tired as he is. Bone weary, sick of waiting, sick of doctors and nurses and wires and clocks and waiting, always waiting for something to finally happen.
Vigils for the dead (or dying) suck the life out of everyone.
She's tall, and awkward. She bends over a lot to avoid things, slumps to not seem so tall next to men. She spends her life changing, adjusting. She ducks under the doorway, and finally sees him across the hall.
For a minute, they know each other. She doesn't have to say "My husband, my child, my lover, my friend, is dying, and there isn't a goddammed thing I can do." She doesn't have to say " I just want them to die already, so I can get on with the business of my life." She doesn't have to say, "I'll never, ever be the same ever again."
She brushes her dark hair from her face, smiles weakly, and strides away. Nik starts to stand, thinks better of it, starting at Marnie.
5 more minutes. Will she know? Will she notice if he goes now?
He grabs his coat, kisses her lightly, murmuring the things he knows he should say. Does she hear? Her eyes seem to flutter open for a moment, and she sighs, but that could just be the morphine. He pulls his hand down the side of her face, like he's trying to hold on. The he darts out the door.
Blue is standing at the nurses station. She turns and sees him, smiles.
"My husband." she says briefly.
'My wife" he replies.
Silently, the walk out of the building, and into the night. |
| posted by thordora @ 7:51 AM |
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| Sunday, June 25, 2006 |
| One. |
It won't hurt.
She promised it wouldn't. In fact, she stressed the syllables until they almost came apart, sweating over every single one of them.
"It. Will. Not. Hurt."
She fucking lied.
Does she think he's so stupid, to believe this? Does she think that he can't see what's going on, does she think he doesn't see her fists as she balls them up so she won't cry. Like fuck it won't hurt.
And what can he do? He can sit there, useless, motionless, quiet, unsure. If he moves, will that disturb the fragile accord she's reached with sleep? What if she wakes up?
Shit. What if she doesn't wake up.
Looking across, he can see into another room, thru yet another septic green doorway. There's a rough blue coat tossed on the chair, hurriedly. A leg and part of an ass leans over the end of the bed. He stares back at his wife quickly. Surely it's written somewhere that you can't stare at another woman's can while your wife is lying there, dying.
"Slowly dying." he mutters. Very, very slowly.
He pulls his arm up to stare at the watch she gave him for their first Christmas. It's a piece of shit, truth be told, but she was so proud of it. Watches meant something to her, reminded her of a slower tagewhen people were impressed by those who could afford to keep time. Like time was something you put in your pocket and forgot about for days on end.
The straps were fraying, and the knob threatening to fall off. None of this battery crap for her, oh no. Only a wind up for her man.
She's an anacronism, and she knows it. Half heartedly, he thinks that's what is really killing her, that cancer is just code word for luddite. The partof him that he doesn't keep in his pocket has seen what the doctors have said.
So many big words for "No use. No hope left."
It's almost 9pm. He can go home soon, go home to an empty house, an empty life. A life he's almost relieved to start over with. If she'll let him.
Her eyes fly open and her hands flail for the morphine button. She gasps.
"Marnie....Marnie let me. Marnie please, what's wrong? What can I do?"
She holds onto it like air. She can't press it enough, and he knows it's not enough. The nurses stop just short of that delicious dose that would help, the shot that would kill her. He hopes she doesn't know they've done this. It would be a bigger insult than the diaper pad they leave under her "just in case"
Just in case they don't have the time, and don't think she can make it to the bathroom. They leave her to sit in her own filth, knowing she's still alive enough to feel that burning humiliation all to clearly.
He holds out for her hand, she touches it, lightly, she's like paper. He's heard so many people say that, but he never really believed it until now. She really is like paper, like an origami crane, unfolding, waiting. Her eyes meet his.
"Ok, so it hurts. I lied."
"You want some water?"
"I want some crack actually." She starts to laugh, but hasn't the energy. Her eyes bore into his.
"Let me ask the nurses. I'm sure they have something on hand that would do the trick."
He doesn't actually move, as they both know there's nothing left. They sit in silence. He can hear the ticking from her silly watch, marking the seconds. How many more seconds did they have like this?
"I'm going to haunt you, just so we're clear." she mutters.
"What? Why in hell would you do that?"
"So I can watch you having sex, that's why. Cause now you'll be nervous about that forever." She grinned slightly.
"I'll make sure I don't shave my ass, just for you then."
They're quiet some more, holding on to eachother without a touch, beyond hands. He's afraid to hold her anymore than he is. She might leave right then.
"I wanted kids Nik, so we're clear. I did, just..."
"I know. Really, you would have been fine, we would have figured it all out. Hell, we put that entertainment center together that time, so why wouldn't we.."
Cutting him off, she says "It was a girl Nik. A little, purple girl. They let me hold her, what was her for a few minutes."
He starts to rise, then sits again. "You never told me. Why did you never tell me?"
"She was mine more than she was ever yours. I wanted to keep it that way I guess. It was my body that killed her after all, so it only seemed fair."
Nik slumps back in the chair, and stares at the blue coat across the hall. |
| posted by thordora @ 4:41 PM |
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| Moi |
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Name: thordora
Home: Moncton, New Brunswick, Canada
About Me: Riding a Roller Coaster ridiculously trying to ream repeated rounded consonants out.
See my complete profile
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Awhile back, a friend and I decided that Radishes, while pretty cool, are never the first pick on the plate, and you certainly can never eat a lot of them. Certain people also fit this criteria. The writings as a byproduct of my manic periods are my radishes.
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