Dan McPharlin
The woods made clear their distrust of the interloping trio with silence. No path was offered and the trees closed together making progress slow and sinuous. This, of course offered no particular problem to Cajones; his width-guide whiskers played their role allowing him to insinuate himself forward like a complex mathematical formula made flesh. Atom and No.3 followed in their own manner.
Cajones had spent the night in spiral curl sleep with both ears on sentry duty while Atom had slept fitfully under the weight of the policeman’s coat. No.3, unable to sleep for the voices of NOM 1 & 2 echoing in his head, had fashioned a crude spear from a fallen branch.
In the array of branches and leaves that informed the woods with the particular benefits that only light can deliver; up and away from the base fear provided by contact with the black earth and her grim recycle; up in what passed as thoughts to the listening woods, there was an awareness that remembered to fear the complexity of these terribly mobile creatures. This awareness, though powerless to react in the immediacy of direct action, knew enough to begin proceedings that might allay their complete destruction at the hands of man.
Under the dew-soaked coat Atom had considered the emptiness of the space where he knew his self should reside. He’d lifted the coat enough to see the figure of No.3 performing some slow motion battle moves while the woollen loincloth hung dew-heavy in the crook of one of the branches that straggled into the clearing. Swivelling his eyes to the left Atom’d found Cajones looking directly at him from the ginger triangle that he formed against the morning mist.
“Morning”
“What time is it?”
“Morning”
“What’s Number Three doing?”
“Number Three?”
“Him” Atom pointed at No.3 who was in the process of impaling a large (and rather intimidating) portion of nothing on the end of his spear.
“Who knows,” Cajones blinked his eyes slowly, “He’s been at it since before it got light. He’s not quite right, your Number Three.”
“You should’ve seen the other two” said Atom.
Cajones had spent the night in spiral curl sleep with both ears on sentry duty while Atom had slept fitfully under the weight of the policeman’s coat. No.3, unable to sleep for the voices of NOM 1 & 2 echoing in his head, had fashioned a crude spear from a fallen branch.
In the array of branches and leaves that informed the woods with the particular benefits that only light can deliver; up and away from the base fear provided by contact with the black earth and her grim recycle; up in what passed as thoughts to the listening woods, there was an awareness that remembered to fear the complexity of these terribly mobile creatures. This awareness, though powerless to react in the immediacy of direct action, knew enough to begin proceedings that might allay their complete destruction at the hands of man.
Under the dew-soaked coat Atom had considered the emptiness of the space where he knew his self should reside. He’d lifted the coat enough to see the figure of No.3 performing some slow motion battle moves while the woollen loincloth hung dew-heavy in the crook of one of the branches that straggled into the clearing. Swivelling his eyes to the left Atom’d found Cajones looking directly at him from the ginger triangle that he formed against the morning mist.
“Morning”
“What time is it?”
“Morning”
“What’s Number Three doing?”
“Number Three?”
“Him” Atom pointed at No.3 who was in the process of impaling a large (and rather intimidating) portion of nothing on the end of his spear.
“Who knows,” Cajones blinked his eyes slowly, “He’s been at it since before it got light. He’s not quite right, your Number Three.”
“You should’ve seen the other two” said Atom.
5 comments:
... and i have promises to keep:
such as, telling you how enjoyable are your april posts, lyrical and troubling and edgy. always a pleasure to read.
this one, another treat, especially the image of that bastardized tai chi avec sword.
and i'm liking the developing relationship between cajones and atom.
Harlequin: As ever, you are too kind. Atom's journey is in it's final furlong and as he gallops toward the winning post we must wonder if he will appreciate the cynical realism that Cajones has exposed him to. Hope you continue to enjoy.
yup...whatever happens, am curious as to Atom's journey
Aight... marking my spot. I shall return.
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