Her father walked her to the edge of the oasis and stood next to her. He was very large, and she was very small, and the desert sprawled shimmering before them.
“There is much to see,” he said. “And you have one hundred and one years in which to see it.” His eyes were as red gold and with every word he spoke she could see the fires burning in his throat.
“I will bring back stories for my aunts and sisters,” she said.
He pushed her and her feet sank into the hot sand and she was left alone.
He sprawled in the grass, smelling jasmine and honeysuckle, letting the sweat tickle him as it rolled down his ribcage. Overhead, birds chirruped lazily. A beetle crawled across his stomach.
“Got a bug on you,” Ranulf said. He was half asleep, sheltered under the blossom-heavy branches of a fragrant tea olive. Geoffrey rolled his head to the side, lifted it enough to slurp lemonade from a straw thrust into a sweating glass. At their feet, a creek chuckled as it ran across rocks in its bed.
“Ranulf?” Geoffrey said. Ranulf grunted. “We should have moved to South Carolina years ago…”
3. #2, fireworksaugust_wolfJune 1 2010, 07:32:24 UTC
They went to China on a whim, Augustin and Ranulf and Geoffrey and Stella. It was her idea, and she pranced through the streets in red shoes.
They found new food, and music that hurt Ranulf’s ears but which delighted Augustin. What seemed discordant to them was lovely to him, and made them stop to listen.
The fireworks were the highlight, erupting above them in a glorious riot of colors. Stella laughed, and Geoffrey lifted her up to reach for the bursting sparks, and Ranulf took Augustin’s hand and they stood quietly content, bathed in red and gold and green.
4. #64, iced tea (picture)major_fredJune 1 2010, 21:12:06 UTC
Freddie remembered the way summer was back home. Trips to the beach, soft shell crab sandwiches, tall glasses of sweet iced tea, and Mama singing Loretta Lynn songs as she hemmed and darned from her rocking chair on the porch.
The beach house they stayed at belonged to her uncle. There was only one shower, and it was outside. They had waffles for breakfast every morning and she played pirates with her cousins.
Now, she sits in a military designed house - all square corners and functionality - and drinks beer and wonders when she stopped doing things that brought her joy.
5. #33, the last thing you lostaugust_wolfJune 1 2010, 21:19:11 UTC
Augustin had many things. He stashed them in a trunk at the foot of his bed, in crates and boxes at the house in Spain, all over the shelves and counters wherever he found himself. There was a degree of comfort in it, a pleasant feeling when he looked at his things and thought, Yes, these are mine.
Things were misplaced. They strayed. He gave some away, and sold others. Nothing, to him, was ever lost. It had simply gone to a new home. He’d taught himself to think that way.
Comments 16
“There is much to see,” he said. “And you have one hundred and one years in which to see it.” His eyes were as red gold and with every word he spoke she could see the fires burning in his throat.
“I will bring back stories for my aunts and sisters,” she said.
He pushed her and her feet sank into the hot sand and she was left alone.
Reply
“Got a bug on you,” Ranulf said. He was half asleep, sheltered under the blossom-heavy branches of a fragrant tea olive. Geoffrey rolled his head to the side, lifted it enough to slurp lemonade from a straw thrust into a sweating glass. At their feet, a creek chuckled as it ran across rocks in its bed.
“Ranulf?” Geoffrey said. Ranulf grunted. “We should have moved to South Carolina years ago…”
Reply
They found new food, and music that hurt Ranulf’s ears but which delighted Augustin. What seemed discordant to them was lovely to him, and made them stop to listen.
The fireworks were the highlight, erupting above them in a glorious riot of colors. Stella laughed, and Geoffrey lifted her up to reach for the bursting sparks, and Ranulf took Augustin’s hand and they stood quietly content, bathed in red and gold and green.
Reply
The beach house they stayed at belonged to her uncle. There was only one shower, and it was outside. They had waffles for breakfast every morning and she played pirates with her cousins.
Now, she sits in a military designed house - all square corners and functionality - and drinks beer and wonders when she stopped doing things that brought her joy.
Reply
Things were misplaced. They strayed. He gave some away, and sold others. Nothing, to him, was ever lost. It had simply gone to a new home. He’d taught himself to think that way.
It made his memory loss a little less painful.
Reply
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