Science Fiction

The view from up here. 

They are solemn. Peaceful. Obtrusively gentle. They are a finger tracing the runes of her spine. They are the hills climbing upon her back. A heart swelling over the edges like dough in the oven. A pair of light blue eyes. The narrow slits forming. The wide moon uncovered amongst grey skies. A girl with a red scarf boarding the train. Searching for something she hasn’t yet discovered. Looking through the fogged glass for self-reflection, blank eyes stare back. They release no messages yet. An upsurge of salt weakening against the sand. Fingers grazing towards the shore. Tides breathing shallow breaths that of a weary man. Butterflies stretching to break from mummified cocoons. Soft touch amongst the earth, a delicate touch of Mother Nature. A baby cries in fistful slumbers, furrowed in colours and bewildering echoes. A plate smashes into in mendable jigsaw pieces. Shards to cut the flesh with sharp edges and jagged tips. Mother birds burrowing their beaks in search of worms for hungry cries follow her in the gust. A relationship crumbles through stacks of papers and a three piece suited lawyer. Looks of unmoving emotion. Locked windows, shades pulled tightly. Bitter shadows creeping in their skies. A battle clouded by loves weather spells. Another grows as they whisper sweet love in each others embrace, a comfort spoon feed to each other. A nagging heart longing for acceptance to full the bottomless pit. A glass empties. 

An old man hobbles onto the bus, waves a silent goodbye. A tide pool swelling beneath his eyes as he looks amongst his family. His mind is betraying him. He can no longer remember their names. Oh, the quiet downpour of the years drowns the youth away. The creases of books etched upon faces, folding the skin into pages that sigh life. Hands caress decaying skin. Two blue turnips. A final petal sways in his eyes. Shaking wind caresses the lungs. A final shallow breeze sighs through. A flower falls in the rain. 

Oh the view from up here. 

A father lets a single tear fall down his cheek silently, he is alone. A mother embraces her dying daughters hand another silent goodbye, she is alone. Collapsing against hard floors, bruised bones and wounded souls. A grim reaper pushing against the barricade. A daughter begging her father for a relationship. A clockwork woman with tv playing static in her eyes. Her eye's aren't seeing, her ears aren't hearing. As she binge watches the past mistakes. Replaying this channel of regret and waiting for the next season. A pout of cigarette stains. Smiling through the lung pains. Swimming in nausea, crashing nicotine waves. 

A child steals with sly fingers and cunning eyes. He screams. She whimpers. A hand raised. A blood vessel bursts. Wild blue eyes. Swollen, red sadness. A slave for violence. A slave for comfort. Promises used to mend a broken seam, stitching with shaking hands and shaking minds. Small lips curved upwards stretching towards the heavens. Deep blue pools waiting for one to swim amongst them. Emotions swirl down the drain. Dirty water tears. Rinsed off with swallowed screams. There is something blocking her sink, for she is overflowing and feeling too much. 

I see all from here. 

Yellow striped tennis balls flying through space upon green turfed courts. An orchestra bellowing to the heavens, delivering spirits to the skies. Praises to the almighty as above so below. He passes a meal to fragile hands. Hushed love with a side serving of the laugh stroked memories. Feet that fly along wooden beams. The passing of pointless notes. The euphoria of naughtiness. Fingers reaching to grasp the sky. Swollen light. Spilling into one another. Secrets bursting through open hearts. Lies whispered through closed doors. Kisses laying gentle against skin. The warmth of an embrace. The cold furls of silence. A raised chorus. The lightening eyes. The slam of a door. The back of heads. Fingers reaching towards the other. Unshed rain. The taste of regret. Shallowing shards of glass. A message unsent. A lover lost. A friend twirling into the unknown. He buries himself away from the sound of her crying. Her voice cracking under the weight of a million tear drops. Swallowing the life of her. Chewing and grinding it to ragged pieces that cut open his body as he tries to swallow the taste. 

A child’s toothy grin infecting a gathering of strangers. A man falling to his knees. A woman closing the door. A young girl watching herself in distaste, spiralling to the dark hollows of her mind. Scratchy girls opening their skin, to feel something within. A rope, a death sentence hung upon a tree by the quiet child you pass in the hallways. Laughter as wine glasses cheer together in unison while he swings across the interstate. 

How does one explain the view? 

Close the door. Slam it shut. Open it gently. Lock it profusely. Let the light touch you. Keep the darkness burrowed within. Smile. Cry. Scream. Laugh. Feel her warmth. Embrace his flaws. Him and her. You and I. Open minds and rusted locks. Breath in life. Sigh it out. Capture silent wonder. A moss covered branch swaying in a cool breeze. A snowflake floating to meet the pavement. Trees hiding their voices amongst whispers of rain. Birds singing to our cries. Hidden messages. Locked secrets. Delight in the beauty of hearing. Yet not understanding. The ripple of water, sunlight on a spider web. A dance between stars. Escaping the shadows. Raising the stakes in the poker game of life. A label machine. Being still. The awakening. The falling. A storm. A scar. A crying kiss. Soft brown hair. An empty house. Foot prints walking away in the mud. Surrounded, yet alone. Creatures born of dark emotion. Sinning from the first light. A fierce hate. Intense love. 

I want all of you. Yet none of you. 

You make me feel too much. 

The view. 

The view of all things. The view from up here.

May 01, 2020 22:47

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Clynthia Graham
15:48 May 05, 2020

There are so many beautiful, poignant, descriptive moments here. God's eye. Nice!


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Kathleen March
14:21 May 08, 2020

I like the rhythm repetition. It makes the story by situating the speaker firmly "up here." Nice. Things happen in the story, yet don't. My style!


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Ariel I
15:51 May 07, 2020

Your story is brimming with in depth descriptions and the short syntax really contributes to the restricted tone that the characters feel as they attempt to grasp their emotions. Nice work!


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13:36 May 07, 2020

Wow, this almost felt like poetry to me. These glimpses into life are good for a slow read and thinking carefully about what's going on


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Tim Grimo
07:07 May 07, 2020

You are a poet! Tough to read, but worth it.


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