Thursday November 13th, 2014

The exercise:

Write about: the net.

Had a pretty long day. Took Max to gym time at the community center this morning, drove up to Penticton this afternoon to get groceries, and this evening I caught a ride with our bakery friend to Oliver to play some badminton.

I have not played badminton since... I'm pretty sure high school. That's a good 18+ years right there. Sean went last week (they do drop-in on Tuesday and Thursday nights) and he hadn't played since high school too. Except he played competitively, going to tournaments and all that good stuff, and I only did it when it came up in our P.E. class rotation.

It was fun, and I enjoyed doing something just for myself while hanging out with a friend, but right now I'm not super confident about my ability to get out of bed tomorrow morning.


"We've cast a very wide net here, folks. The creeps that did this to you can't possibly escape it."

"Doesn't that just mean that almost everyone will be caught in it?"

"Yup - especially the criminals we're looking for."

"Especially? It sounds like they'll just be one for every thousand people squirming around in your great big tangled mess."

"Oh, no... I'd say it'll be more like one for every twenty thousand."

"So how will you know you've found who did this to us?"

"They'll be caught in our net!"

"Officer, I think I see a few holes in this plan..."


morganna said...

Toss it out
Haul it in
Every fish a
Nice addition to the
Evening meal
Toss it out ...

Greg said...

Haha, you are completely going to not want to move tomorrow! Stiff won't begin to describe you :-) On the plus side though, you'll sleep well tonight, and the only way to avoid the chronic stiffness is to do this regularly. Badminton's fun, though when you play someone very good they tend to treat it as target practice....
Your police officer has an (unwarranted) optimism that I admire, and I'm sure that he'll succeed in catching his criminals. Though where he'll keep everyone he's caught until he's winnowed out the criminals might be an issue as well!

The net
A blue feather of tobacco smoke twisted in the gentle breeze as it lifted upwards, and the red coal of the cigarette blazed momentarily, laced through with orange and yellow, as Del drew hard on it. Somewhere in a tree nearby a bird called sadly, a low honking sound as though it were a mourner. The sun had set fifteen minutes earlier, but the light hadn't faded away quite yet, and she could see the grave still: an open pit next to the potato patch with a sprawling tumulus of earth nearby, the shovel stuck in nearly sideways and drooping towards the ground. Across the grave, glistening with the settling dew, was a net of human hair.
"Delilah?" The man had approached silently, and his hand fell to rest an inch above her shoulder: not touching her but well inside her personal space. He had a Southern drawl and a warmth in his voice that the encroaching night air definitely lacked.
"Ayup," she said.
"Del, what's that y'all've spread over that there hole?"
"Spirit net," said Delilah. She sucked on the cigarette again, noticing that that it was nearly all burned down now; more ash than tobacco. Maybe there was a pause then, or maybe they just speak more slowly down in that neck of the woods.
"Keepin' out, or keepin' in?" The bird honked again in the trees, and something rustled the grasses behind the grave. Overhead the sky darkened to the blue of Navy uniforms and stars appeared in it like polished buttons.
The net sagged a little, as though something had jumped onto the middle of it. The man's hand tightened, fingers clawing half-way to making a fist and stopping as though actually gripping her shoulder, and Del shuddered as though he'd actually touched her. The ash fell from her cigarette, bounced off her knees and scattered on the dirt beneath her, and the revealed coal glowed like the rear-light of a truck for a moment.
"Be I hurtin' y'all?" asked the man, his breath a little ragged. He might have been a little pale as well, but perhaps that was the twinkling starlight. Moments passed, and the net sagged again, and then fell into the open grave; the rustle and slither of hair was like a woman's gasp.
"Ayup," said Del.

Marc said...

Morganna - I like the way you looped it back around again at the end there. Nicely matches the repetitiveness of fishing :)

Greg - yeah, there were definitely a few guys there who enjoyed making their opponents run while they kept things pretty casual on their side of the net :P

Love the imagery in this one, starting with that opening line. And the whole thing is just delightfully intriguing.

Would not mind, in the least, to see Del around these parts again.