Thursday, November 10, 2011

Write a Novel in November, Post #7

"Because I am cruel, I did this to you."

His hands were sticky and when one sticky hand touched the other sticky hand, he wasn't sure if he belonged to them. She collapsed in the dirt and they were sticky. His hands in the sun and the melting. It was warm and then it was cold. She collapsed in the dirt and the snow settled in. He picked up the large shovel with the red handle that she loved. He picked it up like a sack of leaves that she loved. He leaned down to ask her what else is there to love?

And this happened on a Saturday. He didn't know that as the snow covered her body the sun covered the snow. The sun melted the snow which melted her body. He didn't know that she became the dirt and the flowers grew around her. They grew between her toes and behind her knees. He didn't know they would grow over her chest, and into a yellow blouse. He didn't know that the flowers would creep into her mouth and that she would taste them. He didn't know that they would taste like maple and leave shadows on her tongue. He didn't know that when she woke up she would be warm and cold and see yellow in the river and hear yellow in the trees. He didn't know that she would wake up singing  

But it's Saturday
and I am an animal! 

I am from the field
of no return!

But it's Saturday
and you are an animal!

And he didn't know that when they found her she would be singing,

But it's not enough!
And it's not enough!

On Saturday they found her running through the field with her palms reaching the sky. She spread her fingers widely like superbly white sheets. At first they watched her running, as if they had already given up catching her. As if the police had already needed to breathe. But then the circles she ran in became gruesome. The repetition made the police dizzy. They tried standing on one foot so the circles wouldn't affect them. Then they tried sitting in the bentgrass but the circles came closer. Her yellow blouse flew up and into the air and down and into one of their laps in an ejaculating gust. Inside her chest was a ball of snow and as the ball of snow started to melt her circling slowed down. The police stood up, one carrying the blouse loosely in his hand, and walked toward her. Her slow circles became small, so small that she collapsed inside them. The doctor told me that they found her with a yellow blouse around her neck, and that she was blinking as though none of us could ever exist.

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