James woke in his bed to the sound of banging. It was fast, vigorous banging working towards frantic. Rolling over, James rubbed his eyes. They hurt. Sore from the thickness of the air around. The air was dense, hard to breathe. It was barely air, it was smoke.
Coming around, James remembered the words repeated to him since childhood. 'Get down low!' He rolled off his bed onto the carpeted floor below, knocking his knee hard against his size 12 sneakers. His knee, scarcely a distraction as smoke was stuffing the room like liquid filling upside down.
Despite the moonless night outside, James had little trouble navigating the floor. A baleful flickering cast shadows beneath the bedroom door. Crabbing over, James reached out to the door with the back of his hand. It was hot. James was despondent. A hot door meant he needed another way out, fast! James was running out of options.
He was quickly reminded how much his eyes hurt. Tempestuously blinking, James made his was back slowly across to room to where he started. Thinking about his window, James wondered how hard it would be to smash it. Would his desk chair do? He had to try. Finding a strength in urgency, James stood up. The air wasn't there. His breathing became coughing, quickly turning to gasping. Finally James couldn't lift the chair, much less smash anything with it. Dejected, James fell to his bed.
James relaxed as he forgot about his pain. He couldn't feel any aching in his knee. His lungs stopped crushing him. All he could think about was how weary he had become. Focused on the dancing lights under the door, James could no longer fight his drowsy eyes. Slowly they fell till finally, like a helpless toddler, James was asleep.
Thursday, March 7, 2013
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Circus
Craig followed his fathers dirty grey shoes through the crowd. His gaze fixed on the shoes like an umbilical cord, nervous one distraction could separate him from his family. The grass underneath was dry and worn. If it had a smell it was undetectable beneath a hot stench of drying animal droppings.
Craig bounced off the back of his fathers leg. Looking up two stone washed tree trunks, Craig could not see his fathers face or the reason for the delay. Only a reassuring rub on the head as father reached into his pocket suggested all was alright.
Craig let himself be distracted.
On the grass next to him was a small handbag, bulging with temptation. Half open at the top, Craig peered into it. Treasure of unmistakable worth adorned the inside. Firstly, every art supply imaginable. Lipstick, mascara, foundation. It was all there! Beautiful tubes, willing to help his imagination flow on to any canvas. Only pausing a moment to consider the possibilities, Craig saw the next big prize, a smartphone. If the art didn't satisfy Craig's attention, he was sure a few Angry Birds would.
Reaching in, Craig pulled the phone from between two torn and used tissues. As he held it, Craig let his joy wash over his face, down his body and to his, now dancing, feet. Unable to contain his emotions, Craig struggled to unlock the phone. He didn't realise it but he had been foiled by the phones password lock.
Losing interest in the overpriced brick, Craig dropped the phone and looked back to his father. Scanning the crowd for his father's stone washed tree trunks, Craig quickly realised he was alone. Hundreds of tree trunks but no stone wash anywhere!
Craig's search brought him to a completely different set of tree trunks. These ones were baggy and splashed with all sorts of colours, much like some of the art Craig had done for his mother. Pink, green, purple, yellow. Craig pointed out all the colours he recognised, and even some of the ones he didn't. At the base of the tree trunks, two giant red shoes. Much bigger than any normal foot could be!
Peering up, Craig was met by the strangest face he had ever seen peering back down at him. It was a man, but not like any man Craig had seen before. He had bright red hair, a pale face covered in colourful shapes and a stuffed, bulbous nose!
Instinctively they both stretched out their hands and walked together. Craig appreciated the extra attention walking with the strange man attracted. People pointed, smiled, laughed and one even cried!
Walking into a humid room Craig saw the one thing he yearned for most, his father's stone washed tree trunks! Reaching out, Craig was lifted up and kissed by his father.
Being carried into the open air Craig couldn't help but wonder..... 'The last five minutes were a great adventure, how awesome will the next five minutes be?!'
Craig bounced off the back of his fathers leg. Looking up two stone washed tree trunks, Craig could not see his fathers face or the reason for the delay. Only a reassuring rub on the head as father reached into his pocket suggested all was alright.
Craig let himself be distracted.
On the grass next to him was a small handbag, bulging with temptation. Half open at the top, Craig peered into it. Treasure of unmistakable worth adorned the inside. Firstly, every art supply imaginable. Lipstick, mascara, foundation. It was all there! Beautiful tubes, willing to help his imagination flow on to any canvas. Only pausing a moment to consider the possibilities, Craig saw the next big prize, a smartphone. If the art didn't satisfy Craig's attention, he was sure a few Angry Birds would.
Reaching in, Craig pulled the phone from between two torn and used tissues. As he held it, Craig let his joy wash over his face, down his body and to his, now dancing, feet. Unable to contain his emotions, Craig struggled to unlock the phone. He didn't realise it but he had been foiled by the phones password lock.
Losing interest in the overpriced brick, Craig dropped the phone and looked back to his father. Scanning the crowd for his father's stone washed tree trunks, Craig quickly realised he was alone. Hundreds of tree trunks but no stone wash anywhere!
Craig's search brought him to a completely different set of tree trunks. These ones were baggy and splashed with all sorts of colours, much like some of the art Craig had done for his mother. Pink, green, purple, yellow. Craig pointed out all the colours he recognised, and even some of the ones he didn't. At the base of the tree trunks, two giant red shoes. Much bigger than any normal foot could be!
Peering up, Craig was met by the strangest face he had ever seen peering back down at him. It was a man, but not like any man Craig had seen before. He had bright red hair, a pale face covered in colourful shapes and a stuffed, bulbous nose!
Instinctively they both stretched out their hands and walked together. Craig appreciated the extra attention walking with the strange man attracted. People pointed, smiled, laughed and one even cried!
Walking into a humid room Craig saw the one thing he yearned for most, his father's stone washed tree trunks! Reaching out, Craig was lifted up and kissed by his father.
Being carried into the open air Craig couldn't help but wonder..... 'The last five minutes were a great adventure, how awesome will the next five minutes be?!'
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