Through the Garden into the Burden of It (Two acts of Five acts)

Let's get written he said!
The Steam-Coach smacked of grape vapor. From within, a soul in a body was caused to propel. By the window, her best spot for sport, Harli, attired for a fine young lady, was led to sit. As the Fly gathered height and speed, a chromatic world beneath gave itself up and a dash of indigo embraced its guest. The vapor in the atmosphere was an irritant guest to Harli's lungs, as her hungry eyes fed on the spectacle that the sun-cracked sky was, and howf she coughed, and again: Lowf. Lovf?, the man adjacent said. Lovf does noth existh. The very thing thath makes you couf will make you puke and choke. Pardon my manners, sir, Harli said. Coufing, I do remember, but asking for your aid I do…owf…not. Yeth, dandy dame, said the man, who asks for help meaning tho these days! The creases on his cheek segued, as he spoke, from being to nothingness indicating there is more life to endure for them to segue from nothingness to being. For the man you are, Harli said, un-pressed and half-emancipated, I impress I would plead exile. I am amazed sky-high the wombless vessel that your lot are, are given to advice and contemplation these days. The man, with a gesture, pursed his lips and took to reading The Domale Eunuch picking it by its dog-ear, occasionally glimpsing toward his unfriendly companion. A steward handsome (to Harli) and automaton (to the man) served Sunshine. I regret my manners, Harli apologized pulling her mask on. The journey I embark upon is life's and it gets to my nerves what if I were to fall apart half way through it. Would you opine on love? As the Fly sailed through the tides of wind it was hard to say what, between the vessel and the waves, slapped what. Lovf, began the man with a smile, like cougf is of body's, is a condition of soul's lungs. You never know whath nourishes ith or whath poisons ith unhtil ith's thoo lathe. Ith is a double-edged virtue. Gone are the days of Sr Paula's precepts uthered in apocalypthic frenzy. But, she said, they can be kept if you believed in being in a moment. Only there are other moments to crash and burn it to nothing… Yet! Anyway, he took off from the tip of his tongue a pin and said, love can be utterly and eternally deadly. Howsoever hard I try I can't seem to fork my tongue. Harli's fingertip, by way of reflex, felt her tongue-tip. She wondered why, kept to herself, and kept it to herself. The Fly lost its gained height as it gave itself in ever so slowly to gravity. Floaters to Destini may unbuckle, announced a voice. You know what, Harli said adjusting her mask, I am going to forget you as early as my sandal touches the sand. No, said the man who by now pinned through sixteen pages, you will not. I will tell you why, and he handed her an Hourglass. The object contained sand as tiny as dust and it had an orifice and the orifice had a cap. This is called Alefor, he said, and it never runs out of what's inside. What's inside, asked Harli. Nothing but dust of time, said the man. It's a medicine to be taken like medicine, and not, ever, drug. It may be of use, again it may not be. She put it in her pouch and said, aren't you the most disliked and the most liked person. What, said the man. I can tell it just by looking into your eyes, said Harli as she opened the door. Before stepping out, she turned this side and left a peck on the man's cheek and said, farewell. The northwestern wind blew even and caressed her face and she found it hard to resist the ministrations of the sunset. Let's get written, said a voice. This came from a boy, and the direction southeast, who stepped out of the same Coach. You mean return, said Harli. I am afraid I am unsure. From Destini to where she will head must be taken on foot. And it's a long and winding road, the road to Harlum.
***
The Aquatic Rider stood unwavered. Through a dark undercurrent, a body's equilibrium was thrust. Over the mid row, wearing curiosity for expression, sat Colum. As the splashes broke into bubbles and disappeared, life in technicolor flickered and faded, the cycle of change recurred. He sat there. He sat there and observed. He sat there and observed, and thought. He sat there and observed, and thought, and wondered. There was this woman who, whom he observed and thought, bore a reflection of grace. There were these kids who, whose parents given too deep to conversation, would be up and about and never on their seats. She would catch one kid and bring it to its seat. Then she would go and catch another. He could not, for the life of him, tell where her seat was for she was always minding the kids. (The stewardess, it was rumored, quit without notice) Beside him was a kid and she had a cigar in her tiny hands. When he looked at her, she offered it to him and he nodded: No, politely. She opened her mouth, as if to bite it, and smelled its tip under the nib of her nose. He enquired the kid as to where she found it. She replied: Can it be found? My uncle gave it to me… I mean when I asked him for it. He rides in the sky most of the time. He asked her why she isn't running around. She said: Well, hmm, because I am strapped. She smiled. I like the ride when it goes vertical! She moved her head about and shook her legs that had its involuntary, singular, calculated way about it. The woman came by, ensured the kid was there, and would not sit. Did you strap them, asked the kid. She left at once to strap the kids who by now were back on their feet. The Submarine paced patiently as it rode through a cave. Is it your big sister? He asked the kid. She said: My mom. I yell at her, but she's just fine. She's everything. She came again and sat this side to his. The kid put the cigar in a pouch as if to hide it. She wore a quiet melancholy underneath her cheerful presence, he observed, strong and vulnerable, a scar on her face, he wondered, that ran from neck to cheek. She noticed this and said: I loved him. What's it that you're after, she added. He thought for a while and said: If Felicity be a quality to attain would be it, smiling. She smiled and said: Through what means do you expect to. He said: I hope it would be reasonable to say through Love. Love, she said, do you not know does not belong to the realms of pleasure. It lingers there but not dwell. Love belongs to the realms of desire. It dwells there and lingers longer, perhaps unbearably longer. It can break you in two. It can crush you to smithereens. You would hope you can escape it. Not if you are in the least bit human. You would know you cannot. The quality you seek and the mean through which you seek it can be fleeting and upsetting. Colum listened with a patience of few and said: So can be any means? It echoed within him and was meant to be so than to her. Perhaps, she said. Your daughter here, she is such a polite, obedient thing, he said complimenting. She said: Oh! She told you so. She's my niece. He laughed out and smiled at her niece. We are going to meet her father where he may or may not be. It's been quite awhile since he visited her, she added. He sneaked in and visited me, I told you so, when you were away, said the kid. He told me not to tell you that he did but I did. Well, in fact, I want to find him and have a word with him, the woman said. Who are you? She asked him. I just Be, he replied in so many words. I see, I sort of Be. You may have noticed, I Catch too, she said. On that note, he said, I throw. I throw caution to the mind. Passengers to Happenstance shall buckle tight, announced a voice. Out of the cave the vessel came, shifted its plane from horizontal, a bolt under the blue, a carousel horse on fire, and aimed in motion sky for its vertical limit. Out of his body, amid the screams of bitter fear undermined by sweet ecstasy, stream of tears from his eyes, Colum saw someone, something watching him and he opened his eyes and screamed some more. The land was warm as a summer skin and Colum bid farewell to his companions. If you didn't know, she said, it's going to be okay. He wondered why she said what he was going to say to her. The kid left a peck on his cheek and they parted.
***
Three to Five to follow...

0 comments:

Post a Comment

There was an error in this gadget

Well-Come

Why This and Not That!

This is by and large to hone so use-less a skill - narratives, dialogues, and all that falls between...