Wednesday, 15 April 2009

Look Past The Mirror

It was a land of excitement and dangers unduly amplified in perception. Rolling green hills, bright white sunlight, and the raucous laughter of tiny terrors running amok in the intangible and ineffective grip of freedom. There was a wind in his hair, and a throbbing in his heart, but he couldn't understand them yet. All he knew was that he had to run, up a hill, down a hill, then up a hill, and down a hill, just like all his peers would. Such was the way of their world.

Not a part of this world of savagery and euphoric incontinence, she toddled towards the tyrants trampling through the land, grave air of grace forming an aura around her. She frowned into the sunlight, smoothing her dress with her delicate hands with every raise of the knee, the ribbon and bow on her head gently pushed back into place. She followed the noise, a regal curiosity roused within her, and would stop at every hilltop to survey the arduous journey that remained sprawling before her. 

Meanwhile, the unfettered tornado of young boys rambled along at breakneck pace, with the breakneck abandon of childhood's indifference, shrieks and peals crashing through to the outside being. The world spun dizzyingly, and he spun with it; he spun faster than it, so it would be spinning with him.  Tired of the hills, they chose a lofty plain, and decided instead to play some strange form of tag, where everyone was it, and everyone was also not it. It would not be unsuitable to call it a melee. But he didn't know what it was, or what it could be called. He only knew this was where he was, and this was what he wanted to do.

And so it was, this melee of tag that she happened upon, that they would come face to face for the first time. A melee is no laughing matter, of course, and he somehow knew this, like a intrinsically acknowledged universal truth. So when he speared his tiny fist into another's arm, there were yelps of pain, and fiery accusations levelled. 
"No, I Didn't! I WIN"
This verbal rally threatened to split at the seams, just as she stepped up to the now cleared center-stage setting of the scrum.

"...Actually, I think you were cheating."

Bewilderment rippled through the ruckus. Who was this stranger, and who was she to decide matters as serious as this?

"Who are YOU? And You can't say I'm a cheat. You're not even playing!"

Her effortless dignity floated in a ring around her, her air untouched by the fury threatening to seethe forth and ruffle her perfect white dress with its perfect frills, and knock her ribbon from her hair. 

"It doesn't matter who I am. And I can too. You're a CHEAT."

He narrowed his eyes, and bared his teeth in a snarl.

"Are too."
"Are too."
"Yeah, well, I've already WON! And youre pbtbtbtbtbtbtbtbt"

Laughter broke out at this last emulation of a fart, and a cheeky grin settled onto his lips. Completely unruffled, she delicately closed her eyes, pursed her lips, and produced a pop, crisp, clear, and ethereal.

Shock swarmed down upon the hapless ruffians, with his surprise the most palpable of the lot. What was this magical trick she had just done?

With suspicious eyes, and suspicious mind, he looked at her through still-narrowed eyes, and demanded, "Do that again?"

With perfect poise, she repeated her feat as eloquently as if she were merely breathing. He saw no tricks, and refused to be outdone by a girl. Following suit he closed eyes, and pursed his lips, concentrating all his being into producing a pop.

Nothing but farty sounds came out, no matter how hard he tried. The boys turned their aimless ridicule at him, and guffawed louder with each failed attempt. She watched him, unamused, as he failed time after time. All he could sound were his farts. And all he could think was, "I have to do this...I won't be beaten by a girl....Pop....Pop.....Pop....It has to Pop soon...."

He tried, and he failed. He tried. And he failed. And he tried again....and he failed again.....and......


Years passed, and they found themselves in the throes of passion, their bodies merging late into the night. When their passions finally relaxed, she pushed her lips roughly against his, and sucked the breath right out of him. Releasing him within inches of the precipice of death, She allowed him some hasty, grateful gasps, before she closed her eyes, pursed her lips, and produced a pop. His breath back to normal, he followed suit, but could only produce a fart.

He opened his eyes to the radiance of her smiling face, as she traced corners around his lips, where just moments before she had very gloriously almost killed him.

"Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine. You win. You always win....."


Anonymous said...

Love it. loved how you connected the years together... must write more often. :)

Anushay. said...

aww! How cute! Childhood weird love evolved into happily forever weird love =)

Dreaminglass said...

not quite, but you are entitled to your interpretation....