Picture This

You’re at a party in early Spring. Your friend is celebrating an important birthday and you’re in his house with people you’ve known for years. Although you’re having a good time, the room has started to feel a little close and claustrophobic, people’s laughter has started to make you wince slightly as it grates on your nerves and you can feel yourself sweating alternately hot and cold. So, you decide you need to get some air. Excusing yourself through the mass of talking and laughing bodies you find your way to the back door and escape into the cool night outside. It’s late, not long before one day flips into another.
As you close the back door behind you, you turn and face your friends back garden. You close your eyes, and as you take in a deep, long, relaxing breath you tilt your head back. You can feel the sweat cooling on your body and the ringing in your ears starts to subside. With your head tilted back, you open your eyes to gaze up at the moon – and you see that it’s burning.

————————————————————

You’re sat alone at home. It’s late at night, and you’re feeling the pleasant, weary feeling that comes from a hard days work and just enough alcohol to relax the brain. Your eyes feel heavy and you’re contemplating turning in for the night.
There are no lights on in the room you’re sat in, and the room is lit only from the glow of the TV screen. You’re not really concentrating on the program in front of you – the program you were watching has finished, and you realize you’ve spent the last 10 minutes focused on the middle distance, just letting your mind wander.
You look around the room you’re in, gazing at the various pieces of furniture and reconstructing in your mind what happened on each of the days you obtained them.
As your head turns, your eyes seem to pluck memories out of each part of your room, and they play on the internal screen of your minds eye. You end up looking at the back of the sofa you’re sat on, remembering the way the delivery men struggled to get it through the front door. And as your eyes return to proper focus, you notice a hand slowly creeping up and over the back of the sofa.

————————————————————

It’s a cold weekend in January. The sky is thick and grey, like an old dishcloth swollen with the mopped up water from a broken washing machine. Each breath you take in feels like pure oxygen, the air being so fresh and cold. You’re walking back to your family home after a long train ride. It’s been a while since you’ve visited your old neighborhood and you’re looking forward to seeing those people that have known you the longest, and so know you the best.
The day has that pregnant feeling that precludes snowfall. It’s been forecast, and the temperature is just the right mixture of cold and humidity. As you walk along, you gaze up at the clouds and see the first few flakes are beginning to fall. You smile to yourself, remembering days spent playing out of school with friends, the anarchy of thrown snow and epic battles. You can anticipate the feeling of becoming damp with snow stuck to your clothes, and then thawing out at home feeling your skin prickle as it warms up. As you turn your face upwards you wait for the first touch of snow, like a kiss from a girl with ice cold lips. And as that first flake touches your forehead, you feel an instant burn, like someone has put a lit cigarette against your skin. More flakes hit your hands and face and each one is like a tiny fire alight on your skin. The snowflakes are burning you.

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2 Responses to Picture This

  1. Yup. this is the one. See, I wasn’t wrong. It doesn’t happen that often, after all. 🙂
    Now, don’t go all self-effacing on me if I tell you these are fab. Again, the second person voice is a joy to read. The unexpected endings just shiver-inducing. I think these may be my favourites. Maybe. I’ll see.x

    • Simon says:

      I’m sorry, I can’t help but be self-effacing, it’s not in my nature to accept praise well. But I really do appreciate your comments, thank you

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