Skip to main content

Play


The A-Z story: installment P
It's what cushions are really for!


Echo explains she has finished by tipping her plate upside down. Claire scoops up leftover clumps of sandwich, stacks the plates, crunches her last wedge of apple while she whisks into the kitchen. Echo climbs up onto the un-cushioned sofa, hollers triumphantly. Claire can’t help but laugh. She returns to the living room and re-poses the cushions; makes a wall to hide behind. Echo slides herself, legs first, to investigate. The wall tumbles. They cheer, and rebuild; cheer, and rebuild. The cheers magnify, the rebuilds wobble, flimsier each time. Laughter swallows them up. Claire lies on the floor, chest heaving, eyes overflowing: strange noises squeeze from her bagpipe lungs. The more hopeless she is, the funnier it becomes. Echo’s giggles reach an explosive frequency. She does a sort of hiccup and sighs.
‘I think,’ Claire says, recovering her breath, looking at the lowing sunlight on the wall; ‘we shall get you scrubbed up, then put a fire in.’ 



Comments

Suze said…
Claire is a lovely character.
18 April 2013 at 13:46
Crystal Collier said…
Goodness, I popped in in the middle. Maybe I should go back to the beginning and get caught up, eh? ;)
18 April 2013 at 15:09
Unknown said…
I'm enjoying your posts! I can't wait to read the rest.
Connie
A to Z-ing to the end
Peanut Butter and Whine
19 April 2013 at 03:32
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Contact Pants Conundrum

There is weather today, I do note it: take a few moments to reckon the size of a cloud (big) and the frequency of rain (sporadic.) Centre of my interest though is a stack of magazines. Not the fashion kind. This is martial arts research. I'm not even sure what it is I'm looking for, but intuition calls loud. A range of old adverts skew some amusement. Contact pants, for example. Pants are not trousers where I come from. They are underwear. Professional contact pants: improved smirk value. But why would a person be likely to purchase a grappling hook and a lock pick set? For specialists and hobbyists only, the blurb assures. Guidance on the pheromone spray that attracts women against their better judgement? I doubt it works any more proficiently than the mysterious potion that defines your muscles while you sleep. But, then: I wonder is some sprayed on this paper? What was my intuition thinking, making this ghastly shout… Tea break time. There's a lot of words...
2 comments
Read more

Back From The Future Blog Party

Another joint blog adventure- if you want to see who else said what the list of participants is here . The premise is this: 'You're up before dawn on a Saturday when the doorbell rings. You haven't brewed your coffee so you wonder if you imagined the sound. Plonking the half-filled carafe in the sink, you go to the front door and cautiously swing it open. No one there. As you cast your eyes to the ground, you see a parcel addressed to you ... from you. You scoop it up and haul it inside, sensing something legitimate despite the extreme oddness of the situation. Carefully, you pry it open. Inside is a shoebox -- sent from ten years in the future -- and it's filled with items you have sent yourself. What's in it?' Here's how I imagined it: Before dawn? Shadows outside, first forming. Sleep has gone, I don't know where. Coffee I can find. All the way from Machu Pichu, this fair-traded pack. Scissors are in the drawer, which ...
26 comments
Read more

In Spring Our Thoughts Turn To Loss

I'm not sure this poem is quite right, but out it goes. I keep writing and forgetting to post any of it- today I remember a very beautiful ghost, a YOLO blend of care free and care full. She would be- she is- rolling her eyes, pretending not to love the attention. Fare thee well dear one, wherever you wander you are settled in our hearts xxx
Post a Comment
Read more