Two in two days, now there's a turnout for the books. Not sure where this'll lead today but another go at winging it. It's a bit earlier today as well so it's not likely to be quite as heavy as yesterday's musings. Here we go, enjoy...
Discarded Thoughtfulness
As Andy reached up to the handle of his bedroom door, he stopped and listened again with his pillow grasped tightly under his left arm. He did not want to wake his mum, it was too early for her to be getting up. In fact, it was earlier than Andy could ever remember being up. He looked through the darkness to the red glow of his alarm clock - 6:15, with both the middle dots flashing on and off like an old friend winking at him, wishing him well on his mission. Excitement bubbled through him and he didn't feel at all tired. He pulled the handle down and opened the door slowly.
It was strange looking at the hallway in the eerie morning light when the cold still clung to his feet. The carpet was all wrong; the faint patterns looked different because of the milky-grey colour it had turned, but he ventured out with determination. He passed his mum's door and took his time to step over the single creaking floorboard just outside the bathroom. Success! The hallway had been passed and the stairs dropped away before him. He repositioned the pillow further under his arm and, putting a hand out to the balancing presence of the wall, he started the descent. The first few steps were no problem, good solid steps. Yet he knew that the hard part was yet to come. He continued down, counting carefully, and stretched over the seventh step. Eight, nine, ten. Then came the challenge. Not only did step number eleven make the most awful noise, but step number twelve also squeaked loudly. However, he had planned meticulously and now that planning would come into its own. He took the pillow in both his hands and held it out steadily. He breathed two deep breaths and gently tossed the landing pad to the bottom of the stairs. It tottered for a moment before flopping with a soft puff into the perfect position. Andy smiled and bent his knees just enough to spy the morning sun through the window above the front door. It lit his sandy hair golden and covered the green of his eyes in copper. Then he was flying for the briefest of moments - there were only four steps left after all - and landed uncomfortably, but safe, inches from the door.
That was it, he had made it. He rushed to put on his trainers, the pillow's glory forgotten at the foot of the stairs, and hurried to the back door. The key was in the lock and he winced even at the tiny click it made. Then he was out in the morning air, cold in the shadow of the house, but exhilarated all the same. This is why he was up early - the sight of hundreds of red flowers just waiting to be sorted through. The task seemed endless; their garden wasn't very big, but his mum really did like red flowers and they had sprung up right round the edge of the small space. He rubbed his hands together like he had seen his granddad do just before starting a job, and then he was in among the flower heads. He looked at each one individually, dismissing all of them in turn, looking for the perfect one.
The mud coated the bottom of his trainers in less than ten minutes but the velvety feel of petals still seemed new at each and every touch. Given a big enough garden, there was no reason why he couldn't do this all day. A few heads stood apart from the rest and Andy had to start smelling them to narrow the possibilities. He had eventually reduced the candidates to four particular flowers. There was the big one, ten layers of flower heads at least. It looked like a tiny apartment building he had seen on the television, only bright red and sweet smelling. Then there was the rose, the only one he knew by name. It was nice enough, but there was something about roses that just didn't sit right with Andy. He left it in the final four for now, but knew it would end up being the first to go. The last two were the real contenders. One had six petals of red with a line of yellow running down each of them to meet in the middle of the flower in a big patch of sun-like colour. There were also six wormy arms of yellow stretching out from the middle with tiny little black dots on the ends. It smelled wonderful and was the best looking of its kind with not a blemish on it, but as he turned his attention to the last prize he had found, he knew with youthful certainty that this was the one he would take. It was perfect. Red all over, it looked like one big petal with wavy rumples in it. There were dark lines that looked the same as the circles in a tree trunk, and right in the middle it was such a dark red that it was almost black. But the deciding factor was the single white-speckled leaf halfway up the stem. He looked at it for a while and eventually plucked it with a practiced hand. Then, his mission an overwhelming success, he trotted back into the house to find his mum up and his breakfast waiting. What a start to the day!
Transporting the flower to school would have been the hit-or-miss part of the plan, but his mum had driven him in so that it would get there safely. Now here he stood in the playground, faded chalk on the ground at his feet. And he held the flower out to the love of his life. He couldn't have imagined a more perfect execution as she smiled at him with her dimples showing briefly, and took the gift gracefully. Brightness built in his heart and his own smile beamed. Then, just as easily as she had fulfilled his dreams, she turned and ran away with her friends, the flower released from her hand as soon as she reached the grassy area. It floated to the earth silently and bounced gently on the soft, green carpet. He stood, transfixed by the injustice, and no one saw the tears that started running down his cheeks.
. Anyway, hope you are all well and feeling good. I haven't got much in the way of new stuff, but that doesn't mean I can't attempt another quick bit of free writing.
