rain...
The blades crawled in circles as it cut through the thick summer air. The heat was unbearable. The picture out the window was continuously distorted by the hot air rising. It looked as if you’d passed a magnet over the picture of the television. The television on the other hand was showing a crisp clear picture.
It was too hot to do anything else other than to laze around. Simply watching the air rise off the ground took so too out of the viewer. John took a large mouthful of cold beer and felt the coldness rush down his throat. John took a second long drag at the liquid gold. This time the coldness didn’t go too far down. The coldness sort of disappeared in his mouth. A third attempt and John was greeted by an empty can.
John wished the beer would magically refill itself. Getting up would prove too difficult a task at this time. The television was running an advertisement about air conditioning. John stared hard at the screen, trying to will himself to feel the cool breeze of the advertisement. It was equally useless as wishing that the beer refill itself. John made no attempt to deceive himself further and gave up trying.
The room seemed to take in the heat and slowly John thought he felt the room start to burn. John wished it would burn, and then perhaps the people in the blue raincoats would come and hose down everything with their powerful water-guns. Maybe it was the only way, the only way to find relief from the blistering heat.
It was the second week of the heat wave. The heat has gotten so bad that a national curfew to stop people from going out in the day had been set up. John gripped the handle of the leather armchair with one hand and with his other hand, he formed a fist and pounded his chest. Some could have mistaken this as a heart attack, John was recovering form one. Without warning, John let out an earthmoving belch. The beer had tried to escape the bowels of John, but to no avail. All it achieved was to leave a tingling sensation in John’s throat. Tempting, tempting John to get more. But that too was wishful thinking. Nothing short of a life threatening situation could get John to get off.
The hand that gripped the handle was still holding on to the arm of the chair. John could feel his palms slowly moistening, slowly losing grip. The leather chair also provided no relief from the heat. It did nothing to help remove the excess perspiration rushing out of John’s pores. All it did was to form a sickly, sticky moist skin on the black leather. John made a quick decision there and then to sell the armchair once he had the strength. He couldn’t bear to sit in it after this. It would remind him too much of the heat.
The air stirred around John. The heat was entering the room again. John could feel the air rise off the floorboards and up to the ceiling. This momentary movement in the air created a slightest of breeze that gave him a moment of comfort. But John knew that soon it would just get worst. There was only so much cool air left in the room to warm up. John took this chance of slight comfort to change the channel on the television. John reached the remote but his wet fingers couldn’t do the simple task that John wanted.
John’s fingers slipped and the remote fell crashing to the carpeted floor. The television flinched. The channel switched to the weather channel. John used up all his energy trying to switch the channel, the air had stopped moving and the room seemed like the inside of an oven. And John was the cookie. John gave up trying to salvage the remote and made a last ditch effort to make himself comfortable. However, all it achieved was to remind John about the sickly, stick skin on the leather. John started to hope, against all hope, that the weather channel would be showing a blizzard sometime soon.
The blizzard didn’t come. Apparently, the heat wave got to the weathermen too. They’ve stopped trying to predict the impossible: the end of the wave. Instead, they brought more bad news, they predicted that the wave would last through the month. John didn’t used to believe the weather station. But now seemed like a good time to start. They could hardly be wrong about something as obvious as this. John closed his eyes. It seems there was nothing left to do but to wait for the coolness of nightfall. And even then it was not much different.
With his eyes shut, John heard the distant roar of thunder. It sounded foreign, like something out of a fantasy novel that you couldn’t believe. John collected himself, he wasn’t going to let the heat get the better of him. There may be a heat wave, but John wasn’t going to lose his sanity. John’s rational being told him that it must have come from the television. He wasn’t going to get his hopes up. John didn’t think he could survive a disappointment like this.
Suddenly, a familiar scent tingled John’s nostrils. It was foreign like the sound of thunder. John couldn’t remember what it was. It resembled the smell of freshly cut grass, the smell of moisture in the air. John slowly pried open his salt crusted eyes. The picture outside his window was still baked in sunshine. The weather channel was still showing its three day forecast: sun, sun and more sun. John closed his eyes.
John took the bad news better than he thought he would. He didn’t let out a scream of disappointment. He couldn’t, John couldn’t spare the extra energy. Then, John felt it. John felt himself melting. John felt himself melting in to the leather. He felt his skin soak up the sickly, sticky skin. John was becoming one with the heat. He couldn’t get out, even if he wanted to.
And then he heard it. Faintly at first, then it got stronger, the pitter patter of raindrops. John’s heart raced, he felt like he was going to get another heart attack. John’s eyes opened, seeing water from the heavens, John fought to get out of the chair. The chair fought to swallow John into it. All that effort to wait for this moment, John wasn’t going to let a chair get the better of him. With a final heave, John ejected himself from the chair and made it out of the front door into the refreshing outdoors.
The rain brought with it a feeling that John thought he would never be able to experience ever again: a feeling of cleansing. The sickly, sticky skin was slowly being washed away. The blackness of the leather was being washed away. John fell to his knees as he soaked in the rain. He gave thanks, especially to the weathermen for being wrong.
All original... by me...
It was too hot to do anything else other than to laze around. Simply watching the air rise off the ground took so too out of the viewer. John took a large mouthful of cold beer and felt the coldness rush down his throat. John took a second long drag at the liquid gold. This time the coldness didn’t go too far down. The coldness sort of disappeared in his mouth. A third attempt and John was greeted by an empty can.
John wished the beer would magically refill itself. Getting up would prove too difficult a task at this time. The television was running an advertisement about air conditioning. John stared hard at the screen, trying to will himself to feel the cool breeze of the advertisement. It was equally useless as wishing that the beer refill itself. John made no attempt to deceive himself further and gave up trying.
The room seemed to take in the heat and slowly John thought he felt the room start to burn. John wished it would burn, and then perhaps the people in the blue raincoats would come and hose down everything with their powerful water-guns. Maybe it was the only way, the only way to find relief from the blistering heat.
It was the second week of the heat wave. The heat has gotten so bad that a national curfew to stop people from going out in the day had been set up. John gripped the handle of the leather armchair with one hand and with his other hand, he formed a fist and pounded his chest. Some could have mistaken this as a heart attack, John was recovering form one. Without warning, John let out an earthmoving belch. The beer had tried to escape the bowels of John, but to no avail. All it achieved was to leave a tingling sensation in John’s throat. Tempting, tempting John to get more. But that too was wishful thinking. Nothing short of a life threatening situation could get John to get off.
The hand that gripped the handle was still holding on to the arm of the chair. John could feel his palms slowly moistening, slowly losing grip. The leather chair also provided no relief from the heat. It did nothing to help remove the excess perspiration rushing out of John’s pores. All it did was to form a sickly, sticky moist skin on the black leather. John made a quick decision there and then to sell the armchair once he had the strength. He couldn’t bear to sit in it after this. It would remind him too much of the heat.
The air stirred around John. The heat was entering the room again. John could feel the air rise off the floorboards and up to the ceiling. This momentary movement in the air created a slightest of breeze that gave him a moment of comfort. But John knew that soon it would just get worst. There was only so much cool air left in the room to warm up. John took this chance of slight comfort to change the channel on the television. John reached the remote but his wet fingers couldn’t do the simple task that John wanted.
John’s fingers slipped and the remote fell crashing to the carpeted floor. The television flinched. The channel switched to the weather channel. John used up all his energy trying to switch the channel, the air had stopped moving and the room seemed like the inside of an oven. And John was the cookie. John gave up trying to salvage the remote and made a last ditch effort to make himself comfortable. However, all it achieved was to remind John about the sickly, stick skin on the leather. John started to hope, against all hope, that the weather channel would be showing a blizzard sometime soon.
The blizzard didn’t come. Apparently, the heat wave got to the weathermen too. They’ve stopped trying to predict the impossible: the end of the wave. Instead, they brought more bad news, they predicted that the wave would last through the month. John didn’t used to believe the weather station. But now seemed like a good time to start. They could hardly be wrong about something as obvious as this. John closed his eyes. It seems there was nothing left to do but to wait for the coolness of nightfall. And even then it was not much different.
With his eyes shut, John heard the distant roar of thunder. It sounded foreign, like something out of a fantasy novel that you couldn’t believe. John collected himself, he wasn’t going to let the heat get the better of him. There may be a heat wave, but John wasn’t going to lose his sanity. John’s rational being told him that it must have come from the television. He wasn’t going to get his hopes up. John didn’t think he could survive a disappointment like this.
Suddenly, a familiar scent tingled John’s nostrils. It was foreign like the sound of thunder. John couldn’t remember what it was. It resembled the smell of freshly cut grass, the smell of moisture in the air. John slowly pried open his salt crusted eyes. The picture outside his window was still baked in sunshine. The weather channel was still showing its three day forecast: sun, sun and more sun. John closed his eyes.
John took the bad news better than he thought he would. He didn’t let out a scream of disappointment. He couldn’t, John couldn’t spare the extra energy. Then, John felt it. John felt himself melting. John felt himself melting in to the leather. He felt his skin soak up the sickly, sticky skin. John was becoming one with the heat. He couldn’t get out, even if he wanted to.
And then he heard it. Faintly at first, then it got stronger, the pitter patter of raindrops. John’s heart raced, he felt like he was going to get another heart attack. John’s eyes opened, seeing water from the heavens, John fought to get out of the chair. The chair fought to swallow John into it. All that effort to wait for this moment, John wasn’t going to let a chair get the better of him. With a final heave, John ejected himself from the chair and made it out of the front door into the refreshing outdoors.
The rain brought with it a feeling that John thought he would never be able to experience ever again: a feeling of cleansing. The sickly, sticky skin was slowly being washed away. The blackness of the leather was being washed away. John fell to his knees as he soaked in the rain. He gave thanks, especially to the weathermen for being wrong.
All original... by me...
posted by alvin_c at 10:30 pm
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