brass / stories / 2006 / Speck

May 5, 2006

With finality, the chair struck the bare wood floor. The air had no choice but to snap at first, but slowly it helped the chair down into oblivion. The weave of space and time undulated with a warm grace that offered a wishful eye and a careful stare of her newfound decision.

The creaking of the rope-spawn tendrils from high above tightened so sharply. Reverberations of past cries could only make their way into the current web of the room. How her echoes of density carried through.

One strike.

Two strikes.

Three strikes.


The air tasted her tears, as if to know the deeper story. It would travel on a journey with her. Perhaps it would hold her hand through a forest somewhere, somewhere green and peaceful. Through the beams of yellow it would follow her closely.

Suddenly, dust from that lonely bare wood floor shot up in abundance, flying high into the barren beams of sunlight from the outside world. They made their way up, up, up into the heavens. The heavens, they did embrace. Oh yes, they did embrace.

Two particles from within this group circled towards each other. A certain string did pull them closer. Together they intertwined and danced. They swung each other around with a certain joy that you would see at perhaps a wedding. Look how happy they are! Their beauty rung clear, clear and true they did ring. And for what looked like a hapless fare-through, was really a merry wonderment of nostalgia. They swing together, riding their velocity with grace and virtue. They must have practiced this for years. How happy are they? How happy are they?

Tears continued to stream into her mouth. She must have seen those beautiful particles of joy. She was happy for them, she wished to be them.

Soon, she would be.