Sunday, 21 June 2009
Underwear on the floor
by The Squirrel
The Assassination
It was a fresh late afternoon. The pink sky was gradually turning into a purple thick layer and the late birds were making their final round in the air. She was standing on the grassy lake shore surrounded by nothing but a couple of chestnut trees. The water of the lake was still, so was her body. No sign of human presence could be sensed around. And it was only he who was coming to the place where she was standing. He was obviously making his evening walk with the dog – a yellow spaniel with a black collar. He noticed her from the very beginning and seemed decided to approach her. Although he did not accelerate his pace it was clear that he was eager to draw near her. Their eyes met and as if a sparkle drilled the tranquil air. Her brown sight and his blue one somehow fused in the air and the color combination between their eyes resembled the color of a dead man’s lips. Floating towards each other, they were enchanted by the ease of the moment. Her cheeks were blooming with liveliness tempting him to swallow every single shade of that blossom with his smile. At this moment she was the sacred monument and he was the pilgrim coming to direct his immutable attention to the object of his admiration. Several steps separated them and the moment for their first conversation was growing with the speed of the advancing evening. Still, no one was willing to start and break the delightful effect of the solid silence. The excitement was almost unbearable and time appeared inexistent.
Suddenly, the yellow spaniel pulled its elastic leash and landed on the top of a nothing expecting partridge collecting seeds under the last beams of the already hidden sun. The bird could not react on time to fly away. The dog abruptly tore the left wing of the partridge. With no time to waste, it also tore the head and the warm blood of the bird splashed like a tiny red fountain over the man’s clothes. The initial shock in the eyes of the owner spread through his face and his hands started frantically wiping the blood, thus smearing it even more. For some quick half a minute he was hopelessly trying to squeeze the red liquid out of his blouse while the now yellow-red dog was proudly finishing the dissection. The man harshly pulled the leash and walked away from the shore. He did not look at her again.
The night spread out over the lake.