TCOTNK 15 Fall
Fall
She walked over. The gardener in the red overalls laughed. Unabashed. He had dark skin, dreadlocked hair and giggles. Not a little but a pandemic sized contagious whirl. Wiping the whole island clean of built-up tension. He actually lay on the floor and held his belly. Tried to say something through his tears, but couldn't get his words out, and what did come out was unintelligible.
Scarlotte was shaking. She laughed nervously because she couldn't help it, and felt like a little kid. Something was very wrong. She had been incredibly wrong. Completely wrong. Picasso joined her. Looked at her intensely with his bright eyes. A chunk of respect with a thick slice of amusement. He pulled the arrow from the tree. With difficulty because it was firmly attached. Gave it back to her. Without commenting. James and Chris were there too. She pulled the hood off her head and held up a shy hand. She returned the arrow to its quiver and bowed to her small audience.
James and Chris laughed a little sourly. Didn't really appreciate it.
The first to pat her on the back was the Moor. The man with the earpiece. Still a bundle of excited glee.
“Sorry,” he said, “I saw that fat carp swimming and only had your bow to hand. I caught him with one shot and was looking for a bucket with that floundering monster when you came up and I had to disappear.” The gardener-cook-fisherman laughed merrily. “I wanted to use the very first raspberries in your dessert as a thank you, but that is no longer happening, is it?! After this, I would say we're dead even. Whoohoo,” he exclaimed, “you are a wild girl!”
He disappeared towards the cottage. Chris looked at her. His look warned her. They walked back to the table. And now she felt the energy differently. They were too serious. And it wasn't because of her mishap.
Sit down, Chris gestured. They both looked so stern. He glanced at James. Shall I? Or will you, he seemed to ask.
He took the floor.
"Michelangelo has fallen," he said.
She looked at them, trying to read what that meant.
"He was airlifted to the hospital earlier tonight," Chris said in a grave voice. Her chest tightened. Did he fall? From his chair? Oh no, fuck, off the dragon of course! He is not a climber. He should have stayed on the ground. They had come all the way to her for this? Then it wasn't a sprained ankle. Was he dead? I should never have gone! We should have just rented those aerial work platforms. Her head went full throttle.
“Yeah, so?” she asked impatiently, “what the hell does that mean?”
“Yeah, nothing, and,” James said, extending his hand across the table to her, “ten yards is a bloody stretch. We don't know how he is yet. Fortunately, one of the girls saw it happen. What can I say? Gravity is a bitch and she got intimate pretty fast. It wasn’t fun to watch. He looked as gray as a…”, and he got no further. His mouth twisted into a shapeless writhe and his eyes became pools of water.
"We don't know how it goes," Chris took over. He sat down next to her, “we have to wait. That's why we're coming to get you. You must be there when he wakes up.”
—-
(end of part one….)
These fifteen chapters make up part one of TCOTNK. They may seem rather inconspicuous but the text is filled with clues, omens and symbolism. Something I wasn’t aware of when writing. I thought it mainly consisted of reconstructed memories.
I wanted to write about festivals and their slow suffocation. How the freedom of gathering is regulated to death. How important subculture is. But the narrative took over. Part three and four came out very different than expected. I was as excited as a reader to discover what each new chapter would bring. I hope you will feel the same….
Part 2.1 Six Letters and a Postcard
