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Saturday, April 22, 2006

small injuries

"I don't think it was right to leave them there." Oskar shuffled from one foot to the other.

"Huh? What are you talking about?" Ignoring him, I continued ripping my tshirt into strips. In my first two attempts I had torn in the wrong direction, against the grain I guess, and hence they were almost useless. But now I was ripping the right way and they tore easily... nice and straight, along the whole length of the fabric. It was satisfying to get it right.

"Mummy wouldn't have put them there. She took them off just before she'd go to bed, it was the last thing she'd do. It wasn't right to have put 'em in that wee dish." he continued.

I really didn't have a clue what he was talking about. He was clearly agitated and was rocking from foot to foot, like a schoolchild waiting to be given permission to leave for the toilet. "Look" I said, whilst continuing to tear strips, "I don't know what the fuck you are talking about. Any chance that you are going to tell me? Or are you just going to continue spouting cryptic shit?

He looked at me, stunned, as if I were a spotlight, then turned violently and ran towards the house. "What the....? Oskarrrr... where the fuck are you going!!!?" I forgot myself as I watched him pull at the door. "Oskarrrr....!!!!" He pulled at the door, then he was in.

---

"Listen cuntstable that's all I can remember. He was my fucking brother alright? My stupid fuck brother."

Constable Arsehole didn't like that, and proceeded to twisted my arm back between my shoulderblades, taking it almost clean out of the socket.

"Okay, okay, I'll try." I said, and with the release of his grip it all came flooding back to me, in a putrid wave of memory.

"As I said, he pulled at the door, then he was in... or maybe the door came off its hinges, and then he was in. It happened so quickly. Anyway yeah it was one or the other... and he was in the house. Yeah. Well. Well, well... the house exploded then. No, not exploded as such, cos it was already on fire. But when Oskar went in it just went Kaboom!! in an explosion of orange. Flames. My stupid fuck brother. I don't know why he went back. I guess he always was a Mummy's Boy, to his downfall. To his downfall."

The memory subsided and the pain returned, and I remembered why I'd been ripping my shirt. Two of my fingers: Ring and Pinky, were still in the house.

[for info: here is my first one]

Comments on "small injuries"

 

Blogger SL said ... (4:29 AM) : 

Woah. That's powerful. I enjoyed it.

 

Blogger Diana said ... (9:59 PM) : 

Wow! I had to read this several times because I couldn't believe it, or absorb it, or something. Definitely grabbed me. Is there more? Going to be more?

 

Blogger lodgerlow said ... (1:46 PM) : 

Thanks to both of you for nice comments. No, there isn't any more. I'm quite attracted to barbed and caustic writing, at the moment. And am exploring angry characters who can't quite control (or understand) themselves [similar for my last one].

 

Blogger Fluff said ... (10:31 PM) : 

My first thought too was 'WOAH'. Exactly that.
Cool.

 

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