Ya'aburnee

Apr. 30th, 2011 04:07 pm
bardiphouka: (Default)
Contest:Brigit's Flame
Prompt: Ya'aburnee
Word Count 787
Genre:Fiction


The name of the house is Ya'aburnee. It is comfortable and lived in, an old Victorian home with nooks and crannies where they would kiss and where their yet unborn children will play hide and seek. There is always a soft breeze the flows through the honeysuckle and in through the windows with their shear lace drapes. He would bustle around the kitchen preparing the tea. Some mornings he would remember when making tea had been a formal ceremony for him. But now her being in his life has made everything so special that the ceremony is watching her take that first sip from one of the thick mugs they had bought in a thrift shop in Edmonton one year.

She would sit watching him as the bagels would brown in their toaster oven. As she spread the cream cheese. Had there really been a time, she wondered idly, when morning had been a time when she cherished her aloneness? A time when the smell of strong coffee would destroy the last remnants of any last nightmares and let them flee like dust motes through the tall windows.

In the house of their happiness, many mornings are complete when they never finish breakfast. Cold bagels get slid from plate to dustbin. Rings from mugs carried and then forgotten intertwine like knotwork on the cherry surface of their nightstands.

There is only one flaw. Not a truly serious one yet, more like a small field mouse that has not been discovered. Each loves the other, trusts the other. In fact the flaw might be from that love. She would look at the way that his hand would reach up toward the upper shelf of the bookcase for a book. For a heartbeat she would imagine the book never touched and there would be a small mousesize gnawing at her heart. But then the sound of the book sliding out would bring her to reality and life would be complete again.

He would think that he heard a noise and turn toward a doorway and see nothing. For that mousewhiskered millisecond he could feel the emptiness of life without her. But before it reached full thought he would hear her chuckle at something that she was reading and shiver at the awe of such a vast life together.

And so they lived and their house grew as their love grew. If there were rare moments when they feared outliving their partner, well every good family house runs the risk of mice that want their happiness too.

They did not hide from the mouse either, because their love was full and trusting and honest.

“I do not want to think of outliving you,” means more. It means they cannot imagine the dry emptiness of the hole their loss would leave, where a mouse can grow lion size and gnaw and bite and shred their life.


“Never leave me,” means more. For they know they would not be left voluntarily. And Death is that Lover that all people eventually cheat on Life with.

The nights passed in comfort and desire, in heart's evolution and companionship. Until one rainy night with no stars to reflect themselves off the road, the tires of their car lost all sense of identity. And the car approaching them took this moment when decisions were needed in a fraction of time to have a cardiac arrest.



This is the room your dying has brought me to build. The walls are made of grief, the ceiling of emptiness and the floor of your betrayal. The only noise I hear is the dull grinding as the cars me, the freed metal heading toward our windshield. And the colour of the room is the white of bleached bone.

This is the room your dying has brought me to be a prisoner of. The walls are made of anger, the ceiling of anger, and the floor of the emptiness brought from your abandoning the parts of my life that you filled. The only noise I hear is the intake of your breath as the windshield implodes.

These are the rooms that can be built in a heartbeat, or a lost heartbeat. They sit in the flanking of towers in the house become home called Ya'aburnee.

As they lay in Hospital the nurses wonder how they manage to survive. The equipment that monitors the difference between surviving and maintaining continue their unobtrusive whispering. And the paindrips are activated again and for those who are extremely acute the room has a slight ever so light scent of tea and bagels. And two people so in love and loving that they do their best not to be buried first.
bardiphouka: (Default)
Title:Greek Music
Word Count:100




Dulled by his own antiquity, he does not notice the avian quality the spokes of his wheelchair take on until they spread to his body softly, lift him but this time in moonlight not sunshine.

She has become so worn by the constant betrayal that she does not notice the grey smoothing as it feathers and she is lifted through the moonlight and

they find each other; old dreams become new lust as they wrap around each other and the wind wraps them with feathered moon a gentle but building menage a trois each of them and the night wind.

Profile

bardiphouka: (Default)
bardiphouka

May 2017

S M T W T F S
 123456
78 91011 1213
14 151617181920
21222324252627
28293031   

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 23rd, 2017 05:32 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios