I
NEED LESS TIME
Anon
He sat and watched.
Probably. That's what he would have probably been doing. Probably. That's what
shouldn't really happen, but it probably did. Things arent always like he sees
them on the television. This surprised him, and he believed the person who told
him this to be very profound. Some kind of urban lore or legend if that fits
somehow.
So he should have been watching. Probably. He looked back and gazed. He was always fascinated by the dirge of trees and wildlife, arranged in some strange and frightening position.
He shook as a car drove past while he wasn't looking. Damn. Red. Minimal rust. He stopped shaking.
FUCK he shouted as his foot impacted with a small pile of wood. What the fuck do people leave piles of fucking wood all over the fucking place he thought. What is the fucking point? One of those stupid countryside things? The road lay silent to his left and right. He saw all the princes and all the princesses on the other side of the road up the long winding path littered with rubble, laughing around. He hoped they couldn't or couldn't be bothered to see him stood there staring. At them. He looked around
And the forest still lay, silent and dormant seemingly. He knew the forest was teeming with life, it just appeared to not be. He looked at his watch. He forgot to read the time and so he looked again.
They moved like angels. They moved like fire. Blue fire. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck fuck. He had a problem whereby he didn't have much anything to say but he felt so strongly that the word fuck seemed to express himself and what he was trying to say. He didn't have anything to say. He looked down. At the floor. The floor was dirty and brown. Like soil, but brown, more dirt really. He wasn't sure of the difference.
Sometimes he say his favourite one walk down to the river near the bridge that is part of the road towards the right of where he was stood. Just after Where the trees threw dark shadows across the road. Think he thought. Think of something. At least. Do me the honour of at least thinking of something.
He'd felt like this for a while now. He ceased to have much to say. Before, he never really said anything to anyone, but he could at least have it there and feel he was nearer completion and full like a normal person. As well as the other problems. He didn't really pay much attention to them.
He figured he could give at least something to someone or something. So that's why he started feeding the ducks. The ducks became his best friend. They didn't have advice to show him where he was going wrong and they didn't tell him the right kind of stuff that would make him wish he was or whatever. They didn't require anything much except water , and they already had that. They required food so he fed them. They had freedom and other stuff like rain and wind and other things. They didn't require love or anything so he felt in the position where he could love them but them not notice or care how poorly he did so.
The next few weeks were a bit of a daze. Nothing much happened. He just developed an alcohol prblem. Habit. Addiction. Whatever. He lost his nerves, shot to pieces, ages ago. If he had five minutes to say let me in to your barn I am freezing he would wander of and probably die in the snow. Dirty grit in snow. Pollution. And polluted.
So he found himself staring across the road again in the bushes behind the trees waiting for the special one to walk down to the river.
The special one came. He watched what the special one did. The special one just stood by the water usually and played with their hands in the water. He felt a bit guilty for spying but if they didn't know he felt the desire to inform the special one of his spying but he didn't. he felt it a right that the special one did know.
His headphones began to gush out some of the old tunes he had selected. He accidentally let slip the words I Wanna hold your hand. Quite loudly. Bizarrely loudly and really quite weird. The special one looked up, and he must have jumped, for the special one came over the road towards where he was hidden.
''Oh hello there, singing in the bushes, eh? I'd watch it if I were you, people might think you a bit strange''
''Umm oh. Yeah. Sorry. I was just.. I was just. Singing. I guess. Sorry''.
''oh its fine really, I was only joking are you ok?''
He had begun to look pale by now. Very pale.
''Ohhh'' he collapsed.
When he woke up he was sat up against a big tree looking very strange in his massively oversized jumper.
''Hello again my friend, are you ok now?''
''Err yes I am fine. Thankyou. Did I collapse? What happened?''
''Yes I'm afraid you collapsed. Do you rem-'' the special one was caught short
''who are you? Why are you here? What are you doing? Why are you talking to me? What have I done wrong?''
''no dear sir, you haven't done anything wrong, I am merely helping you. I am up from the castle. Where are you from?''
''I've got leprosy.''
''really?'' stood back a bit
''no. I mean. I am from the old wooden lumber jack shack up on the other hill. '' he used to suck his thumb they continued for a while, the boys side failing and stuttering miserably.
Then the special one said, so, you Wanna hold my hand? The special one sung the last bit.
Silence.
SILENCE
Breaking, tearing,
ruining. A million thoughts competed against the backdrop of an industrial revolution
and a nuclear apocalypse. Cockroaches fled. People bled. Trees fell. Buildings
were erected. Harmonicas were played. Street musicians made music. Some people
stank. Roads twisted., bridges concrete.
Silence. Tearing at the last remnants of his soul.
The last traces, the residue of a once healthy and productive mind were torn up by small but viscous claws. He withered and crouched into a ball into the tree.
''my hands. I don't have any hands''
The special one looked a bit shocked but worried and still as compassionate as before. The boy with no hands got up and felt the last morsels of mind and soul fall back onto the floor, the dirty floor. Dirty brown floor. Soil more than dirt. He wasn't sure of the definition.
He moved his left foot. Then his right. His pace quickened and he jumped over he bushes. He thought he heard someone shout his name, but he was already diving. The carthorse wheels crushed his head and his body. What was left of it.
Nothing.
Silence.