mkc414
08-13-2004, 12:03 AM
This is from a while back but I dont think I ever posted here.
Onion
She leaned slightly out of her window and her hair dangled in the morning breeze; the humidity touched her cheeks and sunlight grazed the narrow joints of her fingers. She shifted and her arm rose to rub the corner of one eye, and grazed the bridge of her nose with a bent finger.
Light caught on the palm of her hand and captured her attention. Curving lines, which appeared as tiny strings of dew drops; the scaly dunes and knuckles that rose and cast shadows as though they were hills or mountains; a sparse forest of near-invisible hairs, which sprouted along the tops her fingers. For a long moment she lost herself and was completely engrossed in this small and shimmering world. Her fingernails became gems and she looked beyond the form and outline of her hand. Far below, the world constituted itself of timeless gray rock and miniscule curved green leaves. Her face was a pasty silhouette in a high window.
The drain was swollen and gurgled hollowly beside a four-pronged fork and the dirty edge of a knife. He winced and tossed the scalp of an onion into the sink.
His fingers worked quickly to peel away the dry yellow layers, and they fell from his hand. Fingernails dug into moisture and another layer was broken away. Tears began to swell in his eyes and his hand squeezed the plastic handle of a thin knife. The blade slowly sank into the onion, and drew upon it lines and rows. The onion rested in his hand, and as the blade glided towards his thumb, chunks and tiny white squares fell into a clear plastic container; some bounced onto the counter top. The frayed remainder of the onion balanced inertly atop his right palm.
His fingers dug into another layer. It made a soft cracking sound before falling away.
She lifted her head from the pillow and stared at the hazy curves of his face in the darkness. Light bled through cracks in the blinds and left straw colored impressions on the far wall. She reached to touch his ear and passed her fingers through his hair. Rising slowly, she leaned over him and poured quiet words into his ear.
The elder man's withered face was trancelike; his porous cheeks were frozen and his eyelids hung low. His downcast eyes and eyelashes flickered esoterically in intense concentration.
A group of primitive men and women crowded in a loose circle around the man, tightly grasping spears and stones.
Those who witnessed this for the first time felt sickening fear penetrate and rise within their stomachs. These men and women believed a supernatural force was commanded by the small symbol-filled object resting open in the man's palms.
Onion shells floated like abandoned husks through the ocean-like void and slowly faded.
thanks for reading, cheers
MKC
Onion
She leaned slightly out of her window and her hair dangled in the morning breeze; the humidity touched her cheeks and sunlight grazed the narrow joints of her fingers. She shifted and her arm rose to rub the corner of one eye, and grazed the bridge of her nose with a bent finger.
Light caught on the palm of her hand and captured her attention. Curving lines, which appeared as tiny strings of dew drops; the scaly dunes and knuckles that rose and cast shadows as though they were hills or mountains; a sparse forest of near-invisible hairs, which sprouted along the tops her fingers. For a long moment she lost herself and was completely engrossed in this small and shimmering world. Her fingernails became gems and she looked beyond the form and outline of her hand. Far below, the world constituted itself of timeless gray rock and miniscule curved green leaves. Her face was a pasty silhouette in a high window.
The drain was swollen and gurgled hollowly beside a four-pronged fork and the dirty edge of a knife. He winced and tossed the scalp of an onion into the sink.
His fingers worked quickly to peel away the dry yellow layers, and they fell from his hand. Fingernails dug into moisture and another layer was broken away. Tears began to swell in his eyes and his hand squeezed the plastic handle of a thin knife. The blade slowly sank into the onion, and drew upon it lines and rows. The onion rested in his hand, and as the blade glided towards his thumb, chunks and tiny white squares fell into a clear plastic container; some bounced onto the counter top. The frayed remainder of the onion balanced inertly atop his right palm.
His fingers dug into another layer. It made a soft cracking sound before falling away.
She lifted her head from the pillow and stared at the hazy curves of his face in the darkness. Light bled through cracks in the blinds and left straw colored impressions on the far wall. She reached to touch his ear and passed her fingers through his hair. Rising slowly, she leaned over him and poured quiet words into his ear.
The elder man's withered face was trancelike; his porous cheeks were frozen and his eyelids hung low. His downcast eyes and eyelashes flickered esoterically in intense concentration.
A group of primitive men and women crowded in a loose circle around the man, tightly grasping spears and stones.
Those who witnessed this for the first time felt sickening fear penetrate and rise within their stomachs. These men and women believed a supernatural force was commanded by the small symbol-filled object resting open in the man's palms.
Onion shells floated like abandoned husks through the ocean-like void and slowly faded.
thanks for reading, cheers
MKC