Vignette: Girl and Animal (Mature)

[AnIdeasman]

I see the unformed image in my head; it is a girl and an animal. It is a scene with two lovers laying side by side. The girl sleeps while the animal lay awake, staring up toward the ceiling, listening to the soft rhythmic breathing, the rise and fall of her chest. He looks down into her face, it is smooth and shaped, as if it were made of white clay. Upon it floats an expression that thousands of years of art has failed to capture: the innocence of the unthinking, the unstrained eyes, and the indifferent mouth. She sleeps unaware, and he tries not to stare, so he looks up at the ceiling. He knows that she has left him. She, for reason not unfounded, has wearied with her animal. The animal is alone, the animal knows this, and soon the girl and the animal will not only be emotionally and spiritually separated, but also physically.

Through the murk of the night the animals face can be seen. It is blank, except for the heavy eyes which leer off out of their corners into some unknown distance. The animal is thinking.

Light spills through the bedroom window, casting a velvet sunrise over two figures laying tangled in the brand new linen of their queen size bed. The animal feels no change, even as he lay bathed in the colours of the day. The sunrise, which had once enraptured the animal with infinite possibilities no longer inspires him. How did it come to this? You can see this question spelled out through the contours of his face. How long had he been laying like this for? It didn’t matter. Nothing matters to this animal, except for the next moment, when she would wake up and get ready for her seven o’clock shift at the café.

Perhaps if he tried talking to her, he could change her mind. This thought solaced the animal, it made him believe that he was capable of changing the direction of his life. It gave him something to hover toward.

He checks his phone for the time and sees that it is nearing six o’clock. The time for sleep is over. She would be awake soon, and he cannot bear the naked hate her tired face has when it sees him first thing in the morning. He quietly gets out of the bed, and changes into the same clothes he wore the day before. He hears the warble of a magpie, the proud national anthem of the artamidae, who took up residence in the anachronistic gums and acacias that had been planted in and around the concreted garden beds of the apartment complex. These trees and these birds are all symbols recognising the fact that once upon a time something far more beautiful grew in this area.

He walks up the cold timber stairs to the kitchen. The apartment still smells like a construction site, as if the real estate agents hadn’t even waited for the paint and plaster to dry before dragging potential home owners through each room.
The animal remembered that day clearly. Young urban professional couples, not unlike him and the girl he had been sleeping beside, wandering inquiringly from room to room. The real estate agent standing at the door in a black suit and red tie and an authoritarian posture, as if to say ‘we don’t need you, but you need us.’ Surprisingly both the girl and the animal had secured a lease for 12 months and now, looking over the slightly under furnished living room and kitchenette, the scratchy carpet, and the appliances out dated when compared to the modernity of their apartment, he realised his entire residence seemed to stand as a testimony to the relationship between the girl and the animal: outside it seemed firm and solid, but inside it was empty, in a way that contradicted the outside impression.

He dumps two heaped spoons of coffee into the basket of his percolator and ignites the gas stove with the click-click of the electric switch. He carefully balances the coffee pot on the stove before walking over to the window. His feet are cold on the floor, the creaking of his steps seem amplified by the sheer silence of the morning. Downstairs he hears the girl showering. Perhaps, if he joined her in the shower they would once again be connected.

[sparky21737]

I loved the beautifully descriptive language that you used in this piece. There were so many stand out lines in this piece. It had a longing, but defeated feel to of a love that has changed. Well written and thanks for sharing

Sparky

[Jahaliel]

You wove this story well - there's such a sorrowful feel to it, a sense of hopelessness but not yet despair.

[rupertpupkin]

Hi. I thought that this was a wonderful tale. Well told with some very imaginitave and well scripted language throughout.
Neat piece of writing and something that I will probably come back to for another look at. Enjoyed. Sean.

[rupertpupkin]

Well I'm back for another look and enjoyed just as much this time. Well done on a most deserving spotlight!