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pete
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he stepped outside and was almost levelled by the heat. its funny, he thought, how these old houses manage to stay warm in the winter but cool in the summer. shaking his head he stepped under the small oak in the front yard, looking both ways down the street. in his mind he plotted the route for his run. the sun's going to kill me he thought. shaking his head again he jumped the ditch and started off.
somewhere in the distance pipes danced across the farm and into the hills of the arboritum. the base virtue of the tune filled his soul with endurance, a musical prayer of strength and war. a garauntee of peace and beauty. the ground passed beneath his feet as dirt track turned to rough pavement.
with each pace uniform, the tune skirling through his mind, thoughts moving faster than his body ever could, the boy looked up at the sun. it wavered in the heat though it was just past nine in the morning. that great ball of gas grinned as if to say "i'm not exploding in the face of god. i'm exploding in your face!" it was enough to make a boy think he had heat stroke.
desperate to reach the thin forest in the centre of the city he pressed on, embracing the shade when it graced him with its glory. the trees reached out with care, offering sanctuary in the quiet place down in the creek valley. he was tempted. he tasted the rest. he pressed on.
soon he came to the lake. it smelled of life and called to him. swim, it said, give up your silly run. there's no point to let the sun oppress you. come, jump in. the boy suppressed the urges, focused on the bridge, and soon crossed over.
the rest of the run passed in a dream like memory. nature stopped talking to him, but his mind danced. he cooked. his body glistened with sweat.
arriving at home at last the hallucinations set in. he was restless. each step brought a new dream to life. a new reason to escape. to run. to never come back. each one lead him closer to the shower. he turned it on, adjusting the temperature until it was nice and cold. "i need to stop cooking" he said aloud to his reflection.
stepping in he let the water rush over him. relaxing his muscles. renewing his senses. he stretched while the water massaged him. he smiled, all soapy and free. he was alive and he knew it. a boy, body in soul, squeaky clean with only the world to gain.
the first litre of water went down like, well, water. he lay back on his bed, twisting his body to stay out of the ever encroaching sunshine but still within the fan's reach. he closed his eyes and sunk into a light nap, filled with dreams of a girl...
he woke about ten minutes later still tangled in his damp towel. he felt the wait of her head resting on his chest, heard the beating of her heart in the close quaters of his bed encolve but was utterly alone. sighing he stood up and put on a token amount of clothes and turned on the music.
"home...
is this a quiet place where you should be alone?
is this where the torture and troubled find their own?
i don't know...."
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050625
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