one night in bankok
Nov. 6th, 2011 12:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the_siobhanI should have gone back to Darrell's place tonight, the way we usually do on Saturdays. It would certainly be quieter. It would also be more private. Well I mean it's kind of private here in taht everybody seems to have fucked off, but we have no idea when they are coming b ack. So it feels a little weird to get started on anything, if you know what I mean.
At some point we decided it was a good idea to take a "walk" out back. If you've ever been to one of our pigroasts you know that our backyard is long and narrow and ends at the railroad tracks. We have a nondescript fence made mostly out of old doors with a big hole that opens into a grove of tress. At some point there are plans to build a railpath from Bloor to downtown. In the meantime it's a tiny wedge of urban wilderness that serves as a pathway for skunks and coyotes.
There are no lights in the back yard so I stopped downstairs to grab a flashlight. The ground level is a single big dark brick room. We cleaned up as much as we could tonight but it got dark before we could clear up the last of the dust and it hangs in the air and swirls up from the floor in thin tendrils. The fine strings seem to hang in the air, clinging to us as we walk by. We turned the power off to the entire floor and the shadows slither down the walls and across the floor.
It's weird I can still hear the neighbours but they aren't yelling any more. They're whispering and mumbeling. I have no idea how I can still hear them. the insulation isn't installed down on the main floor yet but still. How the fuck can I hear them whispering?
Darrell pokes me to hurry up so I follow him out the back door. The shadows follow me, pooling at the base of the steps and oozing along behind the beam of the flashlight.
The muttering is chasing me down the path and past the barbeque pit. Darrell stopped at teh back of the yard but I pushed past him and climbed through the hole in the fence. I can hear him following me, half a step behind the voices.
I reach the tracks and stop. I take a deep breath.
I expected to hear Darrell stumble. I hear his feet trip and then hey say, "Oh my fucking God."
I swing the flashlight around and shine it in his face. His eyes are wide, focused at the ground. I drop the breifly to where Axel lies, his face open to the sky, curved white bone reflecting the light. Then back up into Darrells eyes, blinding him. The crowbar is already in my hand. The voices are louder now, singing in unison. I swing.
It's almost quiet now.
I say almost. The whispers are low and soft, seeping from the bare walls. I know they will get louder soon. When they do, I will have to go outside. There is nobody here with me any more.
Just me. Me and the walls and the voices and the walls.
For now.
At some point we decided it was a good idea to take a "walk" out back. If you've ever been to one of our pigroasts you know that our backyard is long and narrow and ends at the railroad tracks. We have a nondescript fence made mostly out of old doors with a big hole that opens into a grove of tress. At some point there are plans to build a railpath from Bloor to downtown. In the meantime it's a tiny wedge of urban wilderness that serves as a pathway for skunks and coyotes.
There are no lights in the back yard so I stopped downstairs to grab a flashlight. The ground level is a single big dark brick room. We cleaned up as much as we could tonight but it got dark before we could clear up the last of the dust and it hangs in the air and swirls up from the floor in thin tendrils. The fine strings seem to hang in the air, clinging to us as we walk by. We turned the power off to the entire floor and the shadows slither down the walls and across the floor.
It's weird I can still hear the neighbours but they aren't yelling any more. They're whispering and mumbeling. I have no idea how I can still hear them. the insulation isn't installed down on the main floor yet but still. How the fuck can I hear them whispering?
Darrell pokes me to hurry up so I follow him out the back door. The shadows follow me, pooling at the base of the steps and oozing along behind the beam of the flashlight.
The muttering is chasing me down the path and past the barbeque pit. Darrell stopped at teh back of the yard but I pushed past him and climbed through the hole in the fence. I can hear him following me, half a step behind the voices.
I reach the tracks and stop. I take a deep breath.
I expected to hear Darrell stumble. I hear his feet trip and then hey say, "Oh my fucking God."
I swing the flashlight around and shine it in his face. His eyes are wide, focused at the ground. I drop the breifly to where Axel lies, his face open to the sky, curved white bone reflecting the light. Then back up into Darrells eyes, blinding him. The crowbar is already in my hand. The voices are louder now, singing in unison. I swing.
It's almost quiet now.
I say almost. The whispers are low and soft, seeping from the bare walls. I know they will get louder soon. When they do, I will have to go outside. There is nobody here with me any more.
Just me. Me and the walls and the voices and the walls.
For now.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-11-06 05:48 am (UTC)