Brenton
itumeleng kganyago
Shea
Always Eighteen
AhmedStars in My Head - Part One - Chapter 1.
November 11th 2007 08:27
Stars In My Head
PART ONE
Chapter 1.
SHARNEE’S BOOK.
I saw Lola again today. She was lying on her back in her little bed, tubes up her nose, over her mouth. A little dribble of spit lingered out down her cheek. Her face was drained of blood and spirit. The little veins, bulging with lumps of blood over her neck made me want to vomit. Made me sick to the stomach.
Faith sat with her for a while and talked. School, lunch, Michael, Me, Her job, the freak who lives by the water tower, all memories, all garbage. All happy sugarcoated garbage.
Lola didn’t hear.
He eyes were closed, and looked like dry, feathery skin. Her fingers were paused in a half-attempted clutch. She looked so dead, so unalive. So gone, but the gentle his and misty streams of her breath told me she was alive.
On the outside, anyway.
“You are walking through the forests. You are not alone. Who are you going with?”
“My Brother”
“While walking you come across an animal. What animal and how big?”
“A panther. Middle sized.”
“What does it do, is it passive or aggressive?”
“Rubs past me. So, yeah, passive”
“You continue past the panther to a clearing, where you see your dream house. How big is it?”
“About average size I guess.”
“Does it have a fence?”
“No.”
“You enter the dining room. What do you see from the following, food, flowers, people, a mixture of the above or nothing?”
“Food. And people.”
“You go out the back door where a body of water lies. Is it hot or cold?”
“Hot.”
“Really?” Said Sharnee, sliding up from her book with a small grin, a drip of a self satisfied laughter slicking out in her voice. “How fascinating.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing. Let’s keep going.”
“Kay”
“You have to get to the other side. How do you get there?”
“Water-ski.”
“Cool. OK, you wanna know about yourself now?”
“Shoot.”
“Kay. Orrite, here we go.” Sharnee adjusted herself, twisting her legs over the depressed grey rock. She looked at the mass of scribble on her pages, his answers jotted down in ragged lines.
“First. Your brother is the most important person to you. Your problems are medium sized, your desire to overcome them is average. You deal with your problems passively. You are very open about accepting new people into your life. If you saw people flowers food or a combination, you’re generally happy, so, yeah, you’re generally happy. The temperature of the water is the temperature of your sexual desire and the wetter you got, the more body interaction you’d prefer.”
“What was your water temp?”
“That would be telling.”
“C’mon.” Sharnee grinned at him.
“Nup.”
“Fine. Hey that’s pretty cool, most of that’s pretty on the spot. Can I have a copy? Where’d you get it?”
“Found it on the net. Wrote it in my book. Here.” She tore out a page of her book and gave it to the boy.
“What else do you keep in that book?”
“My heart and soul.” She stood up. “I really should be gone. I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”
“I’ll see you later Sharn.”
She nodded.
“Later Mike.”
***
The night air was uncertain. Faith threw off her sheet. Her legs felt slimy together, her body covered in sweat. It was Summer and the heat and humidity was scorching in the day, deep and sticky. Her smooth white satin PJ’s stuck to the curve of her stomach. She opened her window, leaned out into the sticky night. Misty white clouds danced over the horizon line. A backdrop of brown dead mountains was almost all visible between her window and forever.
But for the water-tower. But for the water-tower, checkered and round, beside the huge Herreby House. The Herreby House was owned by Maverick Bootlicks, an actor from Hobart. He’d come to their town seven years ago where he had run circles with pointless fund raisers for useless ventures such as the now rotten stinking asparagus farm.
Faith looked to her small cupboard. A digital clock, an inactive lava lamp graced the top along with the framed photo of Lola. She looked at Lola.
She looked at Lola and prayed.
Sharnee sat in her glowering lamp-light, looking at the school photo, year seven, her eyes cutting through the bold waves of faces. She dumped her HEINEMANN YEAR 10 MATHEMATICS book on the ground, where it landed with a satisfying thud. She moved the photo to the centre of her desk and examined it.
She spotted George, Mike’s friend. He looked so much different there. His face, though his hair still black and wild and his eyes wide, looked generally sane. Of course, now his face bore the marks of a tattoo parlor visit – a black nose and cat whiskers. This somehow seemed not to change him, only made his violence-prone nature all the more absurdly scary.
She looked at Michael’s face. Then trailed her eyes down to her card, signed by everyone in grade seven. She looked at his message.
Go Sharno! You rule and ya got a bloody good future waiting for ya. See ya next year.
Luv, Mike.
She smiled, almost sadly at the message, put it away. Just another person she could only love without return.
In her fingers, strands of invisible hair fell and escaped her, blown to the breezes of fate.
It was midnight. Maverick opened the door, and walked through his house, tired. He didn’t get changed out of his costume. He didn’t have a shower.
He put down his axe, went to bed and slept, his arms and legs creaking over the moonlit mattress.
PART ONE
Chapter 1.
SHARNEE’S BOOK.
I saw Lola again today. She was lying on her back in her little bed, tubes up her nose, over her mouth. A little dribble of spit lingered out down her cheek. Her face was drained of blood and spirit. The little veins, bulging with lumps of blood over her neck made me want to vomit. Made me sick to the stomach.
Faith sat with her for a while and talked. School, lunch, Michael, Me, Her job, the freak who lives by the water tower, all memories, all garbage. All happy sugarcoated garbage.
Lola didn’t hear.
He eyes were closed, and looked like dry, feathery skin. Her fingers were paused in a half-attempted clutch. She looked so dead, so unalive. So gone, but the gentle his and misty streams of her breath told me she was alive.
On the outside, anyway.
***
“You are walking through the forests. You are not alone. Who are you going with?”
“My Brother”
“While walking you come across an animal. What animal and how big?”
“A panther. Middle sized.”
“What does it do, is it passive or aggressive?”
“Rubs past me. So, yeah, passive”
“You continue past the panther to a clearing, where you see your dream house. How big is it?”
“About average size I guess.”
“Does it have a fence?”
“No.”
“You enter the dining room. What do you see from the following, food, flowers, people, a mixture of the above or nothing?”
“Food. And people.”
“You go out the back door where a body of water lies. Is it hot or cold?”
“Hot.”
“Really?” Said Sharnee, sliding up from her book with a small grin, a drip of a self satisfied laughter slicking out in her voice. “How fascinating.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing. Let’s keep going.”
“Kay”
“You have to get to the other side. How do you get there?”
“Water-ski.”
“Cool. OK, you wanna know about yourself now?”
“Shoot.”
“Kay. Orrite, here we go.” Sharnee adjusted herself, twisting her legs over the depressed grey rock. She looked at the mass of scribble on her pages, his answers jotted down in ragged lines.
“First. Your brother is the most important person to you. Your problems are medium sized, your desire to overcome them is average. You deal with your problems passively. You are very open about accepting new people into your life. If you saw people flowers food or a combination, you’re generally happy, so, yeah, you’re generally happy. The temperature of the water is the temperature of your sexual desire and the wetter you got, the more body interaction you’d prefer.”
“What was your water temp?”
“That would be telling.”
“C’mon.” Sharnee grinned at him.
“Nup.”
“Fine. Hey that’s pretty cool, most of that’s pretty on the spot. Can I have a copy? Where’d you get it?”
“Found it on the net. Wrote it in my book. Here.” She tore out a page of her book and gave it to the boy.
“What else do you keep in that book?”
“My heart and soul.” She stood up. “I really should be gone. I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”
“I’ll see you later Sharn.”
She nodded.
“Later Mike.”
***
The night air was uncertain. Faith threw off her sheet. Her legs felt slimy together, her body covered in sweat. It was Summer and the heat and humidity was scorching in the day, deep and sticky. Her smooth white satin PJ’s stuck to the curve of her stomach. She opened her window, leaned out into the sticky night. Misty white clouds danced over the horizon line. A backdrop of brown dead mountains was almost all visible between her window and forever.
But for the water-tower. But for the water-tower, checkered and round, beside the huge Herreby House. The Herreby House was owned by Maverick Bootlicks, an actor from Hobart. He’d come to their town seven years ago where he had run circles with pointless fund raisers for useless ventures such as the now rotten stinking asparagus farm.
Faith looked to her small cupboard. A digital clock, an inactive lava lamp graced the top along with the framed photo of Lola. She looked at Lola.
She looked at Lola and prayed.
***
Sharnee sat in her glowering lamp-light, looking at the school photo, year seven, her eyes cutting through the bold waves of faces. She dumped her HEINEMANN YEAR 10 MATHEMATICS book on the ground, where it landed with a satisfying thud. She moved the photo to the centre of her desk and examined it.
She spotted George, Mike’s friend. He looked so much different there. His face, though his hair still black and wild and his eyes wide, looked generally sane. Of course, now his face bore the marks of a tattoo parlor visit – a black nose and cat whiskers. This somehow seemed not to change him, only made his violence-prone nature all the more absurdly scary.
She looked at Michael’s face. Then trailed her eyes down to her card, signed by everyone in grade seven. She looked at his message.
Go Sharno! You rule and ya got a bloody good future waiting for ya. See ya next year.
Luv, Mike.
She smiled, almost sadly at the message, put it away. Just another person she could only love without return.
In her fingers, strands of invisible hair fell and escaped her, blown to the breezes of fate.
***
It was midnight. Maverick opened the door, and walked through his house, tired. He didn’t get changed out of his costume. He didn’t have a shower.
He put down his axe, went to bed and slept, his arms and legs creaking over the moonlit mattress.
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The opening was sad, it reminded me of my first born chld, who was premature and in a humidy-crib for six agonising long weeks, with tubes running ina nd out of her everywhere...
Can't wait for more to see how they all tie together...
Thanks for bringing something interesting back to Orble ... you have inspired me.
Lilla ...
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