The Last Pleasant Day of his Life
That morning he just stopped wondering when history would ever decide, and the gulls had landed on the very same unspoken shores. The smell of barbecued breakfast slithered its way to his nostrils. His high school friend beckoning, mutely at first, and then gathering volume in an attempt to overwhelm the verses of the waves nearby. Danny hesitantly got up from the bamboo shed, forgetting to yawn; at the look of his friend's frown he stopped short of stretching both arms. He followed his friend's tracks on the whitish sand, too sleepy to manage to keep a straight head on. The sunshine from this angle was intense and offensive to the eyesight. He cursed as he realized that he left his sunshades beneath his pillow.
They reached the next cottage where the scent of half burnt animal flesh seemed to originate. A whiff of noise accompanied the ambiance, courtesy of the group having a go at a round of card-game. Most of them had salted water beads standing firmly on their skin. He had a hard time imagining anyone soaking at sea with this kind of UV rays patrolling around. Without being given orders, almost automatically, he set the utensils on the makeshift dining table. The forks and spoons were sloppily soaped, slippery even in their disguise to seem washed and dried. He placed each pair on the corresponding plate anyway and at the cue of the rice's edible transformation, he started scooping up just the right amount to gratify a whole group's single serving. They settled themselves accordingly, the same seating assignment as last night's, or morning's, as he passively remembered. He helped himself with the usuals: fish, and a few bites at the veggies. The pack was livelier than yesterday's lunch, unless it was just the sun shining down on them far more brightly than ever. The new color taking effect, he guessed. After coffee he began rivaling their noise, their very laughter and what he'd elsewhere call their shallowness. Across her was Frix, the anonymous friend of a friend, distracted, short-haired, squat, on the chubby side, genetically inferior, almost girly. Plain, in simple language. She gave him an uncomfortable smile, which he returned a second over too late. She had averted her eyes just then, playing her own scene somewhere deep within her uninteresting mind, the lines her thoughts traced never meeting those of his. Danny continued smiling at her, away from her sight but close to her awareness just the same; he had forgotten how otherwise boring she was, being too happy to care, too far removed from his old realities to ever wonder.
Tonight, he would profess his undying love for Frix amidst the revolt of the gods. He would rage against the elements in response, and fight, fight to the bitter end for the potential of true attachment with only the slightest of chances, even if the illusion ends come the following morning. Dawn would find his soul committing suicide; until then there would be no reason to let the beautiful Arnelle know of their break-up, nor to challenge the present, perfect status quo.
END
They reached the next cottage where the scent of half burnt animal flesh seemed to originate. A whiff of noise accompanied the ambiance, courtesy of the group having a go at a round of card-game. Most of them had salted water beads standing firmly on their skin. He had a hard time imagining anyone soaking at sea with this kind of UV rays patrolling around. Without being given orders, almost automatically, he set the utensils on the makeshift dining table. The forks and spoons were sloppily soaped, slippery even in their disguise to seem washed and dried. He placed each pair on the corresponding plate anyway and at the cue of the rice's edible transformation, he started scooping up just the right amount to gratify a whole group's single serving. They settled themselves accordingly, the same seating assignment as last night's, or morning's, as he passively remembered. He helped himself with the usuals: fish, and a few bites at the veggies. The pack was livelier than yesterday's lunch, unless it was just the sun shining down on them far more brightly than ever. The new color taking effect, he guessed. After coffee he began rivaling their noise, their very laughter and what he'd elsewhere call their shallowness. Across her was Frix, the anonymous friend of a friend, distracted, short-haired, squat, on the chubby side, genetically inferior, almost girly. Plain, in simple language. She gave him an uncomfortable smile, which he returned a second over too late. She had averted her eyes just then, playing her own scene somewhere deep within her uninteresting mind, the lines her thoughts traced never meeting those of his. Danny continued smiling at her, away from her sight but close to her awareness just the same; he had forgotten how otherwise boring she was, being too happy to care, too far removed from his old realities to ever wonder.
Tonight, he would profess his undying love for Frix amidst the revolt of the gods. He would rage against the elements in response, and fight, fight to the bitter end for the potential of true attachment with only the slightest of chances, even if the illusion ends come the following morning. Dawn would find his soul committing suicide; until then there would be no reason to let the beautiful Arnelle know of their break-up, nor to challenge the present, perfect status quo.
END
posted by Ria D. at
4:32 AM
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