Post by nicolelavonne on Jan 23, 2005 13:32:50 GMT -5
It was the summer and sweaty mist fluttered through out the air. Diesel clouds hugged the ground of passerby cars as they mumbled their way down tar-slicked roads, the black substance stuck to their tires like a woman’s lipstick on a man’s cheek.
There I was, a girl of merely fifteen propped out on the porch, hoping God would offer a breeze to quench the body liquid that was foaming underneath the folds of my white t-shirt. Mom was at work, and the remainder of my family went out to the woods to seek adventure and most likely shade. The tingle of the creek was so tempting, and I could hear it, being only a mile or less away from it. But I was a surrogate mother today, and I had chores to do before I could assume the role of child again. My facial pores gushed and I wiped the sweat on the back of my hand. I was usually pale most of the year, but this summer had lined me with streaks of rosy suntint. The unusual redness made my hair glow and the blue of my eyes pop out.
The sat there on the weather-beaten porch chanting a breeze to come, but it didn’t. The air was as heavy as boulder, and it rested, sucking the oxygen and muscle straight out of you. Even the usual squirrels that skipped across our lawn were rested in the tree tops, they didn’t want to scramble in the heat either.
Just then, as I was wishing we had an air conditioner, Jeremy’s dusty Chevrolet swerved up the drive. I caught the surprise that lurched up my throat. Jeremy wasn’t supposed to be home until later. Suddenly, goosebumps rose to my skin, despite the lingering heat of the afternoon. I was scared.
His face looked stone like, I always thought of him as a Gargoyle; a watcher and observer of all things.
Smokey dust trailed behind him as he got out of the car, he then marched toward me looking like a marine leuitenant, or someone with cringing authority.
“Why aren’t you in the house girl? Aren’t you ‘posed to be cleaning for yer mother?”
I only stared back at him. We didn’t have any fans in the house, and the heat was much more tolerable with the hope of a wind gust.
Yet, shrivers rattled my frame, even though he was always acting this way.
“It feels a little better out here. It’s warm in there,” I said, motioning to the former plantation house we called home.
“Get ‘ur chores done?” he asked, with a grin of impatience.
“Some of it, I’ll do it all before mom gets here.”
Jeremy nodded somewhat uninterested, I gave him a somewhat satisfying answer, but he was hoping to hear that all of it was clean, I could tell. He spat a chunk of tobacco on the ground and ushered himself inside. The smack of the front door concluded what I had thought- he was disappointed in my “work-ethic,” or so he calls it.
I twiddled my fingers and heard the tree rustle in the background, the breeze hit me hard and quickly dissipated. It was time to go back into the house and straighten things up, even though Jeremy was here.
I swiveled my body and looked toward the door, walking slowly to the entrance. Bees hushed around the house lantern and it looked as if they had found a home in it. Their black-yellow skin swirled around my head like a tornado. They couldn’t scare me, I lived with Jeremy and he could do more harm.
Once inside, I heard the break of leather and leaned towards the door. He was there with a belt, warm and cupped in the palm of his right hand.
I'll have to print it out and read it more carefully, though.
it 
and 
all
time for me 
echoes, hope you all are doing well 
