Press play, then read. (Start around 0:18.)
He groaned and placed his hands palms down in front of him in the sand, feeble, useless, and the wayward sea sloshed around his bare and boney ankles.
What, he whispered, wait, but no words came out.
She sat a few feet away, legs spread on the stones on the cliff-side, staring out towards the boy stretched in the sand without speaking.
He groaned again, another ghost from his severed stomach, just the faint, frail wavering of his ruptured vocal chords. The sand smelled rotten and rank like spoiled fish.
Her broken fingers grasped two bloody white things, nearly identical, from a thin, red little string. They dangled precariously over the sea’s swelling waters as the waves tumultuously churned, and then she let go. They fell and splashed in the water, floating for a moment almost undecidedly
sink or swim, sink or swim
before the greedy sea claimed them, maimed them, rived them to pieces with her rough and rousing waves.
He woke, and he screamed.
It was an ugly and gross sound that came from the very belly of his cracked and creaking rib cage and rattled his whole body. He heaved on the sand, pitched forward and rolled onto his spine and screamed again. He couldn’t breathe, every ounce of air was expelled in that beastly wail, and he writhed and moaned, arching his back and clawing at his eyes, his eyes, his—
empty
http://www.nanowrimo.org/eng/user/764534
It’s going to be my masterpiece.
tell me a story i whispered and i was cold
i hid behind the dead trees with the beaten brambles
and broke them
wait you said dont you said and i asked why not
because i died you said i died and resurrected but not quite the right way
your eyes were sad as you took the broken bramble and i saw the salty seas and white waves crashing
i saw the skin still hanging baggy from your bones and eyes like burning coals
and i wept
chapter one
do you see me? he whispers,
and his body floats in the sea with
white waves crashing splashing against the rock and
seagulls call with swollen throats and eyes like hungry vultures
he whispers, do you see me, and
the white waves swallow him whole
-
“The white waves swallowed me whole,” he recounted one day as the sun shone brightly, “and I drowned.”
This shocked the crowd into silence.
“I drowned,” he repeated, and then paused.
A shout came from the congregation. “And then what happened?!”
He paused a moment more, and then, “I drowned,” he said.
The crowd, a humble gathering of sheepherders and midwives, was silent for a minute more until a burly man with clenched fists jumped forward. “Well, get on with it!” he bellowed, the veins in his neck pulsing and pounding. “Ye’ best be not wastin’ my time, boy!”
This time the boy said nothing at all but stared with blank and empty eyes.
“Arrghh!” The burly man marched forward to where the boy was standing, grabbed him by the collar, and shook him back and forth. The youth’s head swung about like a rag doll’s. “I said ye’ best not be wastin’ mah time, boy, and I mean what I say!” The man brought his face in real close to the boy’s and he barred his yellow teeth. “Now get on with yer story.”
The boy parted his lips, as if about to speak, and the burly man brought his husky face in even closer, but the boy’s head had lolled to the side with his eyes glossed over, and he didn’t respond. His tongue hung heavy and stupid in his mouth.
“Ye’s an insolent fool, that’s what,” the burly man growled, “and if ye’ know what’s best for ye’, ye’ll–”
“–drown.” The feeble voice spoke slowly, retardedly.
“What was that, boy?”
His tongue still heavy, he said, “I drowned.”
Big and Burly Man shoved the boy to the ground with his big and burly hands, then wiped the sweat from his palm onto his smock. “Ye’s a fool, boy,” he said. “Ye’s a good-fer-nothin’ fool.” Shaking his head he walked away, and the sheepherd gathering followed, murmuring all the while.
The boy moaned but did not move his body; it was too weighty, like the leaden tongue in his mouth. The hungry noontime sun shone relentlessly, staining his skin a coppery, rusty red.
“I drowned, I did,” sputtered the boy. He formed his words slowly and slurringly. “Drowned, drowneded, did I, I, I drowned.” He managed to maunder like this for quite some time. “Drowned, drownded, drowned, did.” He felt as if his mouth were dry and sand-filled, and he could not swallow, so he coughed and groaned. His sluggish syllables vaporated into the harsh and hellish heat.
“Drowned, I did,” he said, but his words were so weak he couldn’t hear them. “I drowned, did I–die?”
-
“–me mam says, but ah dun real’ know fer sher.” What sounded like pots and pans clanged. “You’s dun a real dumb thing, there, though, gettin’ involved wit duh mistah high-’n'-mighteh blacksmith, mistah too-good-for-yer-chickens Hashah. If ye was to ask meh–”
Something heavy fell with a loud clang. “Ain’t nobody gon’ be askin’ ye anything, child. Hush yer mouth before somebody goes ‘n hears yeh sputtering nonsense that’ll bring us bad news.”
“Aw, but mama–”
“Don’t yeh be “but mama“‘n me. I says what I mean and I mean what I says. Now go sweep the barn floor before yeh talk the lad’s ear off and leave him in worse shape than before!”
The sound of footsteps gradually faded and once more the boy was alone. “Uhhnn,” he groaned, and turned on what he thought was his side but was really the very edge of a table. “Uhhnn, uhhhhn, arrgh!” His body fell and pounded on the ground. The floor resounded with a resonating thud.
He heard sharp footsteps this time, or thought he did, at least. His head was throbbing too hard for him to concentrate well on anything. He felt like he was spinning, slipping–
“HELP! HELP!” he wailed, flailing on the wooden floor. “HELP! I’M DROWNING, I’M DROWNING, I’M–”
His left hand whacked something hard and sharp — the table leg, presumably, but he was too frantic to consider precisely what he had hit — and he felt something warm and funny on his knunckles. His rib cage pounded as hard as his head and his breathing was irregular and short.
“I DROWNED, I’M DROWNING, HELP ME, I’M–”
The footsteps had finally stopped and their owner bent down to cradle the boy’s head like a mother and her newborn child, and at the gentle touch, the youth stopped thrashing.
“Hush, hush,” a woman’s voice soothed as her fingers lightly stroked the sides of his forehead. They smelled like baked bread. “Hush, now, child. Yer gon’ be alright.”
At these words the boy opened his glossy eyes and they darted about. His shaky hands reached out in front of him, searching for something tangible while his feeble fingers clenched and unclenched.
Seeminly out of strength, his eyelids closed and he lowered his hands. “I drowned,” he stated simply after regaining his breath enough to speak. “I drowned.”
“No, no, hunny, ye didn’t drown,” replied the voice. “Yeh just fell off the table, but yeh’s gonna be alright. Yeh’s gonna be alright, and that I can promise yeh.”
6/26/10 – 6/27/10, 7/23/10
The stars were dripping slowly or something, and I wanted to taste them on my tongue, but the trees were greedy that night and stole them from me. And though the stars kept dripping the whole night through, the trees would have more than their fill or their fill was never full, so I stood with emptying eyes and only watched, still and silent.
That night the bones came out with baggy eyes, and I wanted to pour the dripping stars there, but the bones were too scared and the trees too thirsty, so the bones’ eyes remained empty.
And when he touched me with his long boney finger or his long finger bone, I listened.
You are me, he spoke, but I was not him.
I told him so.
He spoke, You wonder why I am lonely, child. I am you. But you do not realize that when we are separated, I am separated. The branch that cracked and fell to the ground withers because it is alone and lonely, not because it is detached.
“Oh,” I said, and I had no speak, only words.
He touched me again but I could not feel him because my eyes were too empty, and the stars were still dripping but I could not see them because the sky was too dark.
“Where are they?” I asked because the stars were hidden from me. “Why aren’t they here?” and my words were so loud that the world was indented.
I was cold in my belly. My eyes were emptying.
“I need warmth!” I cried.
Then you can have it, he spoke to me with his wordless speak, then you can have it.
But I could not find it and desperately I told him so.
He spoke, Look behind you to look forward. Look behind you but do not go behind you. Then you will find for what it is that you are looking.
My eyes searched behind me but they could not see, and then he was gone, and I was alone.
There would come a time when I would speak, creating feeling, carving the smoldering embers where my eyes once were, now deserted—
but now was not that time.
