No one was coming.
No voices. Or apparitions. Just the silence of ship and space, of a metal shell vacated of pods. Seeds upon the world below. (. . . pods seeding the world below.)
With a shift of weight, of palm to chin and eyes that hung loose in baggy sockets, the sound of leather, of chair, boot, pant. Nothing more. Not even the tick of clock. (inspiration here from the movie Bright Star--the scene where Mr Brown is in the study watching Ms Brawne outside and there is no soundtrack, no score, just the sound of his moving in his chair)
Thought could flow, as it did in loop, and the movie could play, as it did, day and night, week upon week, stacked in years. Still, he knew.
No one was coming.
9 comments:
There's something about being alone, when one doesn't want to be alone vs. wanting to be alone, and you can't. I've been in both scenarios. One is equally as frustrating as the other. I have, as John is feeling, felt all alone, just wishing there was someone, anyone, to make noise, to converse with. The difference, I KNEW I wasn't going to be left alone forever.
WONDERFUL post. You always seem to find a way to make me understand exactly what each character is feeling/thinking.
Only a truly wonderful writer is capable of such an accomplishment, and that you are.
TIGHT HUGS
hhHHH
LOVE ALWAYS
Just a quickie for now.
The symmetry of this post, the neatness of it, the immediate, easy conveyance of tone, poem-like is superb. On a sidenote, it showcases the diversity of your writing, a chapter quite different from the one that came before it. Rich in imagery, the strokes bolder, darker. eyes that hung loose in baggy sockets as a prime example is delightfully descriptive. Very, very nicely done.
Sometimes, inspiration is just a mirror away. I took a photo with photo booth (of me) and I'd post it so you could see the eyes I saw, the eyes that I've given John, but then again, I want you to come back. :-D
This idea of no one coming is an intensely personal observation. In short, for the past year, after my professional life collapsed in bankruptcy, I knew after just a few phone calls and emails that I was on my own, that my phone would not ring and my email would wither to dust and cobwebs; that, as I've written, no one was coming. And it is true, although I have played my role perfectly, no one has come and no one is coming and I think of death and dying and what that would mean is this: upon the day, and just a passing moment within that day, I would be on lip and mind. "Did you hear?" "Oh no, what terrible news." And then, in about the time it takes to type this the conversation would shift to something like this: "Hey, you free for lunch?" And this is how it is, how it goes, day after day. :-)
I'd go mad.
I get itchy just reading this piece. I think of a few solitary moments in the last while where space has become vast and time too large. I'm not partial to it.
I do hope you are not alone, Tree. Living urban has had that effect on me in the past. But to be honest, to be rural, as I am, and to be alone might be terribly daunting. I do hope you are not alone.
xo
erin
Erin, as long as you are around, I've got all I need. Come hold my hand and let's go for a walk, in the woods.
Oh, and if you read me yours, I'll read you mine. :-)
This post was as a catapult, feeling therein propelled, rushed and flooding the core. It is the reason for brevity in comment. Along with John, and through your post and further still your comment, you, this post touched me personally. Thrice the impact if you will. Symmetrical, expressive, exquisitely tormenting and beautiful.
Cannot say it enough, superb.
Sweetest, your comments are always as honey to my eyes. Thank you.
H
Poppet
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