A strange, dark tale this one that Leila has chosen for a Rerun this is what she said:
Well here we are yet again. Another week over and another just beginning.
The postings are fair adding up. At the last count we’ve reached number 274.
I was struggling what to write this week as inspiration has either taken a holiday or just couldn’t be arsed whispering in my ear.
Solitude’s slight light falls faintly across my folded hands
Surrounded by the vacuum of his absence I shiver
a freedom vibration to the tune of Footloose and Fancy-free
Lost and found.
That’s where Kathleen would go if this had happened at a big box store, her carelessness broadcast over the loudspeaker. Instead, she lost something precious in the snow, in deep, cold, silent snow. Beautiful, but impossible to search — unlike the hard floors and ordered aisles of housewares and sports equipment, toiletries and toys.
I’m wealthy so it’s appropriate I camp in a Cadillac. Those luxuries! Genuine simulated wood accents, leatherish trim, shiny bits. The exterior paint is nearly unblistered and all glass is intact, except the impact snowflake embossed into the windshield. Despite the daytime warmth I barely detect the previous owner’s carpet-blood.
The cold, not a storm loaded with snow, but the cold in burrowing waves, came sweeping down the valley just north of the Yalu River. Vatcher Sexton McKee, sergeant of infantry, as cold as he’d ever been in his life, could not hold the pencil in his hand. He’d already broken the lead point three times, but only worried about handling the rifle, managing the trigger when called upon, his latest letter home to be finished at an hour less demanding.
Emma was pissed off. She hadn’t seen him since he got out of jail after doing a weekender. He’d been huckled for theft and fighting with the security guard who caught him. She knew Sean’s logic only too well. Getting done for the theft was fair enough but the fighting was the guards fault for catching him.
Indefatigable, that’s the only word. Under cover of darkness, Leila crept out and made her way via, alleyways and byways and the odd back yard – truth be told – to gain access to the catacombs of LS Towers. There she picked out another Rerun suggestion – and (and you didn’t hear this from me) a stale Twinkie that she had secreted in the survival section. Anyway, once the dust dry crumbs had been coughed away this is what she said:
Well another week over and a new one is just about to begin.
I have sworn quite a bit this week. And you should have heard Diane! The oaths that lady doesn’t know are not worth knowing.
You know that phrase about ‘My giddy aunt’? Well, Diane adds the reason for the old dear’s giddyness.
I hate that eleventh step. It’s the darkest one. It always has been. I remember noticing it when I was around twelve years old but I couldn’t say anything, not to my parents.
I blamed them. I thought when they died it would leave me alone. It didn’t.
I’ve suffered that step for forty years now. But I don’t think I’ll need to for much longer.