Friday, 4 March 2011

Part of a story I may or may not continue :P


The sunlight lazily rested on my face, stroking my cascade of dark hair on the pale hardwood floor. The warmth it brang pricked at my eyelids, stimulated fine hairs on my arms.  Eventually, my eyelids creaked apart. Each eyelash slowly released the one opposite, in a mascara coated rebellion. Air accelerated into my lungs; a sharp contrast the plodding pace it had maintained for the last few hours. The sting was enough to fling me upright and force fingers to clasp my head, to steady the eager world.
The room was decorated with teenager’s bodies, reminiscent of no-man’s-land. Except no-man’s-land didn’t have anywhere near as many sequins. A salty breeze foamed out of a short window and mingled with the underlying perfume of alcohol, grease, sweet sweat and lynx. In the blinding morning light I could see how bare the room was. Only an upturned rusty red loveseat and browning potted plant accompanied the stark kitchen cabinets and few appliances. There wasn’t even a stove. Where was I? Who owns a sink and fridge but not a stove? Dust drifted off the chalky blinds and showered over platinum blonde hair, ripped jeans and skinny limbs, to land delicately- as if concerned over the teenagers awakening. The silence was so peaceful it made me ashamed to be awake.
 I sprayed my hands firmly over the floor, in preparation for an attempt at standing. My back arched in a last delay... and a swift hand clamped to my arm, fingers gingerly digging into the flesh, and hauled me up. “Yay, you’re alive!” croaked a familiar voice. Emmy’s hands swerved under my elbows to balance me until I was stable. Emmy laid her sleeping mobile phone on the corner of the kitchen counter as she steadily swept across the room toward the sink. The thought of following her made my stomach protest, by pressing against my navel and squealing rudely. “Em...”. Emmy had already filled a tumbler with water and pressed it into my hand. “Drink. Now.” I held the glass to my lips, but hesitated from drinking. My eyes tightened, lips gapped open, and my throat rawly embraced the water.  A minute or two later I handed Emmy back the tumbler. “Better?”
 “Hmmm...” I groaned, faltering to tell her the truth. “...Little bit”
“I’ll get you another” She sighed. I stretched my arms and took another gaze around the room. Two people were jammed in the gap between the sanded floor and the overturned loveseat, a boy and a girl I thought I might know. Far more people hung on top of the loveseat, and three others had joined me on the floor. Behind me where three shelves, but they only held dust and a plastic cup of red wine. Probably mine. Emmy padded towards me in stripy socks that muffled her movement, shrouded her in a haze of cotton and softness. A bit too hastily I grabbed the tumbler and downed the contents without caring what it was. This water was colder, sharper than the first drink. Good. Water silently dripped from my lower lip when I lowered the glass, which I then placed next to Emmy’s phone. She had perched herself on the end of the kitchen counter, staring absently out the window without blinking at the intensity of the morning. “How come you’re up?” I asked. A soft chuckle that escaped her lips disturbed the dust. “Didn’t go to sleep in the first place”. As she turned her head a grin broke across her face. I noticed now the rainbows of eyeliner hugging her eyes, fraying, greying not far from the rims. She looked beautiful and dilapidated at the same time.
We sat on that kitchen counter for another twenty minutes or so, just listening to the buzz of traffic circling the base of the block of flats. Seagulls circled overhead too, and pounced at assorted crisps scattered on the balcony. The baron view was hardly interesting, yet managed to hold our interest with invisible gravity. Something, and we wern’t sure what, told us to wait.  

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