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TITLE (EDIT)
The Myriad Slip |
DESCRIPTION
Narcotics, sensuality, cruelty and a flat full of people asleep... the musings of a christmas morning.
[695 words] |
TITLE KEYWORD
Literary Fiction |
AUTHOR
Salai G Prit |
ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
19 year old student female from the UK.
[November 2002] |
AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (2)
The Myriad Slips (Short Stories) A reworking of an old piece... more of an extension. [3,074 words] [Literary Fiction]
Victor And Louise (Short Stories) Rough draft for the first half of a short story... please read and comment... please.. [3,962 words] [Literary Fiction]
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The Myriad Slip
Salai G Prit
“...I’d rather lye here and dribble on my arm like I’ve been doing for the last ten minutes”, “fuck you I’m gonna go hide, I love Christmas” the rooms thick air swelled against my face, uncomfortable cold rushes fix themselves tightly into the spin, outside of all this I worried that what I had come here for would find no peace in its rest. Everyone else in the flat was a sleep, the awkward fixation of waking in such states lay a cool glaze to the rooms familiar lines. I attempted to wake up Andy, I slapped him and pulled his arm. He rolled his eyes and told me too “fuck off”, he didn’t know he had said this but the subconscious slip edged off the dew of an uncomfortable sleep and sent me out into the kitchen. Fearful of something in this place that normally held such comfort I smoked a cigarette that made me feel sick. I drank two glasses of water and stood there shaking. There was nothing moving in the flat and the stillness unsettled me. I tamely edged towards the stairs and went to Russell’s door, I knocked the door and observed the blue-tacked photographs twitch and slip around in my vision, not thinking I opened the door and walked inside. No one was awake and as I slipped into the room someone held my elbow from the side, “you wana see sumthin?”, “what? Have you been to sleep yet, did you fuck with that girl, man see was beautiful”, “fuck yeah nigga, come n have a look”. I followed Chrisch out of the room and down the hall to the spare bedroom, I was still fucked and the colourless hall looked just carpet and wall merged in the pale dawn and diffused in watery morning eyes...wait .. “what the fuck were u doin in Russell’s room?”, “just borrowin sum honey”, “wow..shit you know Russell will fuckin kill u man”, “na he gonna be fine chile..behave n comon inside.” He pushed through the door and inside the room the heavy scent of her hung like gloomy long thoughts across the bed, her perfect bones lay motionless-soft below the sinew of her face, watching the lines of her breast rise - defined by the rooms soft shadows, her picture etched so unnaturally against the scene. Chrisch left the room to find a spike. I leant across the bed and pressed my check against her throbbing stomach. Today we would die. She stirred, her limp arm raised-hand holding the nape of my neck, her fingers in my hair. “I love you”, her sleepy tongue whispering in the words, she pressed her face back against the pillow- smiling as she curled her slow tired body around me... Chrisch was moving around behind me looking for a flame...he was no longer concerned with the girl, she’d wake up I a while and he’d be in the corner of the room dead to her, she didn’t make sense any more. “man u got a light?” “yeah..”I twisted away from her and handed Chrisch the light..i took to look back at her.. “she’s beautiful man”, “huh, u fuck me up kid...u comin?” he moved his face into a smile and held the bag up to his lips where it meet his hot breath, his eyes sunk and he was gone... unless I said ‘yup’...I didn’t answer his question and once he’d fumbled around on the floor cooking up he shot and slumped back into the shadows.
Its not real though, think about it, everything we know is found in thoughts that are made up of words which are just things that some fucko decided to invent one day. They don’t actually mean anything. Think of something that doesn’t require words to explain it? Its a lot of stuff, but it all means nothing. There are the occasional slips, but they don’t get out so much...there in cages behind neon shop displays and weekends of allotted freedom...anyway I’m pushing off, and don’t forget; you cannot beget all the sins that you owe to the people of paradise magic, pretend to answer passion and form with foreign rationalisations.
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READER'S REVIEWS (1)
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"This is really ugly and really beuatiful. Fave line "The heavy scent of her hung like gloomy long thoughts across the bed" (EAM)I also like the philasophical musing at the end about describing something without using words because words don't mean anything. How would you describe a sunset without words? This piece has hidden depths. Could use a bit of an edit though :-) " -- Sooz, Dalton-in-Furness, England, Cumbria.
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COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 2002 Salai G Prit |
STORYMANIA PUBLICATION DATE
November 2002 |
NUMBER OF TIMES TITLE VIEWED
2217
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