Sunday December 14th, 2014

The exercise:

Write about something or someone that is: pounding.

No fog today, sadly. It was, however, very nice out. Particularly this afternoon, which I decided to take advantage of by taking Max to the park for the first time in a long time.

Heading across the border tomorrow morning to pick up a whole bunch of packages. Some Christmas presents, a few things for Max. I've honestly lost track of everything, which just means I'll need to take some time before I leave the house to figure it all out. Easier border crossings and all that good stuff.

And on Tuesday I'm working with our photographer friend on the product shots. Looking forward to both getting it and learning how it's done.

Mine:

I grow weary of this seemingly constant battering. All day and all night, for as long as I can remember. Which, I suppose, isn't saying much.

With all this abuse I could very well be brain damaged by now.

Relief. A break. That's what is needed. Even a brief respite would be invaluable.

But no. If it is not one thing, it's another. Maniacal drops of rain. Frantic footsteps. Even the occasional bouts of hail. It is... unending.

It is no easy work, being the streets of this city.

3 Comments:

Greg said...

Did you remember to bring Max back from the park with you? :) I'd definitely make a list if you've got all that to sort out; then you only need to remember the list and a pencil to cross things off on it as you do them. It sounds like a busy day for you, but hopefully in a good way!
Heh, I did wonder where your story was going; the punchline is both apposite and rather amusing. I felt the need to re-read it them to really appreciate it once I understood who was talking. Nice work!

Pounding
A heavyset woman with shoulder-length black hair with a slight curl to it and a glossy sheen that Jerome eventually realised was grease got onto the train hauling a medium-sized black suitcase with her. Once aboard she let it drop with a thump and stood upright, throwing herself back and making her spine click. Her hair drifted away from her face before falling back, briefly revealing pocked skin and the red blotches of fresh acne. She breathed deeply, her chest rising and falling like an ancient Empire, and then lumbered over to a seat next to him.
The case was rectangular, one of those with a handle that extended out and little wheels to make it easier to trip up people behind you and generally get in their way, and perhaps two and a half feet tall. She dumped that down between her legs, which straddled apart and undoubtedly gave the man opposite an interesting view; he turned pale and buried his head in a cheap, free newspaper. Jerome wondered about sighing audibly, and then decided that she looked like she might bite, so didn't.
The train doors closed and the train moved off, the thud of the motor a pounding noise that beat in time with his headache. It felt like someone was knocking determinedly on the side of his head, and his forehead felt hot; he had been hoping for a quiet journey undisturbed by his fellow passengers. He stared at the case, hopeful that the woman wouldn't turn out to be talkative, and out of the corner of his eye he saw her pull out a phone wrapped in a mouldy plastic case and saw the colourful glitter of Candy Crush.
Then he noticed that the zipper-tags were on the inside of the case. He squinted slightly, puzzled, but it was true: the zips were closed up and he could see the slider part, but the tags you gripped to open and close had been tucked inside and couldn't be got at. He wondered if it was some odd security measure, but a glance over confirmed that her fingers were too fat to be able to open the case without the tags.
He looked back at the case and realised that the zips had moved apart. Now he watched them, wondering if the pounding of the train along the track was vibrating the case open. The zips slid further apart still, and then a liquid eye pressed itself against the gap formed.
His breath caught in his chest and felt tight. He tried to breath, but couldn't make himself inhale. Blood pounded in his ears like waves crashing on rocks, and his face felt hotter still. The eye pulled back, and the zips opened further, and the case parted slightly to reveal the face and head of a baby. The lips pulled apart in an imitation of a smile revealing tiny pink gums, and then the head retracted and the case zipped up again. From the inside.

morganna said...

Pushing, pushing
Opening
Up the
Nether world
Drilling down
In the
Never-ending
Ground-destroying mines.

Marc said...

Greg - nah, we get all our US packages sent to a receiving business just across the border, so it's just one place to go to pick everything up.

It's coming back across the border that I need all the receipts for all that declaration fun. It was just a lot of orders over the course of a week or so that I figured I'd collect in one trip.

Welp, I would run screaming from that train if I were Jerome. Or perhaps I'd aim for a more discreet exit, hoping to avoid drawing that woman's (or her cargo's) attention!

Morganna - nice take on the prompt. I do so enjoy your acrostics :)