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TITLE (EDIT)
The Hour Of Its Birth Is The Hour Of Its Death... |
DESCRIPTION
A short story...
[667 words] |
TITLE KEYWORD
Literary Fiction |
AUTHOR
Bruce E Losis Jr |
ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
19 yr male.
[October 2002] |
The Hour Of Its Birth Is The Hour Of Its Death...
Bruce E Losis Jr
“I’d rather lye here and dribble on my arm like I’ve been doing for the last ten minutes”, “fuck you I’m gonna go hide”, the rooms thick air swelled against my face, uncomfortable cold rushes fix themselves tightly into the spin, outside of all this I worried that what I had come here for would find no peace in its rest. Everyone else in the flat was a sleep, the awkward fixation of waking in such states lay a cool glaze to the rooms unfamiliar lines. I attempted to wake up Andy, I slapped him and pulled his arm. He rolled his eyes and told me too “fuck off”, he didn’t know he had said this but subconscious slips edged off the dew of an uncomfortable sleep and sent me out into the kitchen. Fearful of something in this place that normally held such comfort I smoked a cigarette that made me feel sick. I drank two glasses of water and stood there shaking. There was nothing moving in the flat and the stillness unsettled me. I bravely moved towards the stairs and went to Russell’s door, I knocked the door and observed the photographs blue-tacked to the door twitch and slip around in my vision, not thinking I opened the door and walked inside. No one was awake and as I slipped into the room someone held my elbow from the side, “you wana see sumthin?”, “whhen did you wake up, did you sleep with that chick”, “fuck yeah nigga, come n have a look”. I followed Chrisch out of the room and down the hall to the spare bedroom, I was still fucked and the colourless hall looked just carpet and wall merge in the pale dawn and diffuse in my watery morning eyes...wait .. “what the fuck were u doin in Russell’s room?”, “just borrowin sum honey”, “wow..shit you know Russell will fuckin kill u man”, “na he gonna be fine chile..behave yeself n com inside.” He pushed through the door and inside the room the heavy scent of her hung like gloomy long thoughts across the bed, her perfect bones lay motionless-soft below the sinew of her face, watching the lines of her breast rise - defined by the rooms soft shadows, her picture etched so unnaturally against the scene. Chrisch left the room to find a spike. I leant across the bed and pressed my check against her throbbing stomach. Today we would die. She stirred, her limp arm raised-hand holding the nape of my neck, her fingers in my hair. “I love you”, her sleepy tongue whispering in the words, she pressed her face back against the pillow- smiling as she curled her slow tired body around me... Chrisch was moving around behind me looking for a flame..he was no longer concerned with the girl, she’d wake up I a while and he’d be in the corner of the room dead to her face like an interesting shoe. “man u got a light?” “yeah..”I twisted away from her and handed Chrisch the light..i took to look back at her.. “she’s beautiful man”, “huh, u fuck me up kid...u comin?” he moved his face into a smile and held the bag up to his lips where it meet his hot breath, his eyes sunk and he was gone...i didn’t answer his question and once he’d fumbled around on the floor cooking up he shot and slumped back into the shadows.
“Its not real though, think about it, everything we know is found in thoughts that are made up of words which are just things that some fucko decided to invent one day. They don’t actually mean anything. Think of something that doesn’t require words to explain it? Its a lot of stuff, but it all means nothing.
I’m goin to push off, see you kids later. And don’t forget; you cannot beget all the sins that you owe to the people of paradise magic, pretend to answer passion and form with foreign rationalisations.
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COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 2002 Bruce E Losis Jr |
STORYMANIA PUBLICATION DATE
October 2002 |
NUMBER OF TIMES TITLE VIEWED
1863
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