Mrs. Aniston felt different today. She could hear the birds chirping outside her window. As her soft hands brushed the hair off her face the flowers were blooming bright. “I forgot to water the plants!” she yelled and ran to the yard, only to find Mr. Aniston with the hose. “Come here, touch the Rhododendron!” said he. The blue burst its hue and drops of purple plopped anew. The entire yard was bursting colours. Everything she touched changed colour. Everything she smelt burst into colours. Mr. Aniston stood in the corner admiring his beauty. “Happy birthday, my sun, moon and stars.” She shied away from him, turned back around, punched him in the stomach and ran saying, “I’m going inside to finish my book now! Catch you later mister customized hell. You will be the death of me someday!” The air made her feel light headed. “Chapter 420”, she started writing.
She walked right past him. Little did he know what was coming for him. The skies knew her lust like it was their cinqo de mayo. “Kein dearest, won’t you come for me? I am so lonely here.” whispered the wind in his ear while it struck 4:20pm on the other side of the wall. Kein dearest’s heart ran at the speed of Flash.
“Lucy darl, you are like my Captain Planet.”
“Earth, fire, wind, water, heart.”
While she chuckled, Tom, Dick and Harry couldn’t help but notice her tantalizing smile. Her eyes still searched for the searching eyes of Al. “Business. Purely business!” thought she. Could she dissect his brain though? Find out what he thought? Not about her. That’s too simple. But about himself. About the world. About the wall. About why being acted as a catalyst to self-actualization. Pretentious? Maybe a little. Pretentious? Maybe a lot. But when did they know when to be a little and when to be a lot? As she sank, higher and higher, into her mind, Al’s colour changed crimson. She felt his skin. It was as smooth as that yellow flower that she wished he could touch the other day when they were walking under the shine of the sun amidst the rain. She couldn’t help but look down. The floor was wet. Patterns of peacock feathers shined bright on the ground. Above her was a glass ceiling mirroring the sky. The sun peaked its way through the ceiling. Her presence made Al crimson. On the table lay BW-ACK, Bowie, Seal 2000, M-9 Bayonet, Bird’s Beak, Sashimi and Heftier. All of them arranged in order of height. From the drawer below she picked up her purple butcher’s knife and kept it on the table. She considered this her prized possession. Something had colour in her life. The blade complemented the dried red of blood. She picked it up and smelt it. She came closer to him and smelt him. Nothing brought more satisfaction than the love for her lust. To know that she could have him, in front of her, vulnerable, did not please her. She liked his charm, his intimidation, his domination so she picked Sashimi and lay her on his soft skin slitting his face and scarring his soul. The look in his eyes tantalized her. His helplessness interested her.
All he had to do was snap his fingers and he could own her. Could he? Well he snapped them anyway. He caught her off guard but her guard she kept.
“Wasn’t expecting you here.”
“Well it’s a pleasure to see you too, Luce.”
“You mister are going to get me into trouble real soon”, said she with a shrug.
“If you didn’t want trouble dear, you wouldn’t be here with Tom, Dick and Harry.”
His eyes twinkled hoping she would say that she was there waiting for him. Her heart sank knowing that he was her trouble personified. “Business! Pure Business!” Their aura filled the space and lit their light as their banter continued. While the dusk absorbed them, they realised how insignificant in this huge galaxy they were. The evening grew. The stars shone. The verisimilitude of an amalgamated existence was as fluid as Lucy darl’s love for the sky studded with diamonds.
“You know what they say about you Luce?”
“They say a lot of things. The one that intrigues you is what interests me.”
“Nothing about you intrigues me dear. I think you are a pretty simple person. At least you try to be. I don’t understand why the air of mystery around you is salvation to the people around you. Tom, Dick and Harry especially.”
“Air of mystery? Are you sure you aren’t talking about yourself?”
“Not everything is about me now, is it?”
“Haha! No I don’t know what they say about me.”
With her favourite lopsided smile on his face, he came closer to her and said “You are the deepest shallow person.” Her face changed colour. Crimson! “Ah! I am the favourite colour of my Kein dearest.” she consoled herself. She could be everybody’s favourite colour but was she? “Am I?” whispered her mind while she put a hand on her tummy and rubbed it. The very next moment her hunger disguised her face. “I’m hungry too” said Al tilting his head to the side. Her face lit up with a thousand colours. At once she jumped and asked him to come home. “I’m cooking today! You are coming home.” Not so much of a question though.
The glass ceiling was mirroring the sky. This time diamonds shone bright. They danced to Sonata Pathétique. Falling on the floor they laughed rubbing their tummies. “That was a nice meal” said he. She turned her face and blushed crimson. Her smile lit up his smile all the way to his eyes. The night grew darker. Their bodies got closer. “Déjà vu.” said she still rubbing her tummy and turned towards him. His embrace would welcome her anyway she would have him. She was his Luce in the sky studded with diamonds after all.
“Save her! Save her! Please! Save her!” his voice quivered. This wasn’t his world. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to say.” As the pen dropped from Mrs. Aniston’s startled hand, she saw Al’s blood drenched body emerge in front of her. “Wh-what happened?” stammered she. He bend down and picked the pen up. While handing it to her, he said, “She couldn’t take the pain anymore. I couldn’t hurt her anymore. As we lay on our backs she said that she felt complete today. She got up and started writing something. Entices my curiosity, that little lady! Déjà vu, she said again.” He hands out a piece of crumbled paper to Mrs. Aniston. She straightens it, clears her throat and starts reading. Mr. Aniston had just entered the room. He too sat down.
“Flowers and moon dances he gave her,
The islands of adventure, time took ’em away.
Little did she know, the moon dances would be blur
Ornaments of brutality she wore in gay.
Amidst the clouds of green,
The herd knew her keen.
He played her like Apollo’s lyre.
Ignited her loins with fire.
She needed to hush the product of her fire.
The herd couldn’t know what layered her red,
The herd wouldn’t know what layered her dred.
She smothered her sun-fire in the pyre.
Complete now felt she,
Down to ashes he can be.”
Mrs. Aniston tried to comprehend what happened. The zephyr of her spring evening mystified her clouded mind. She turned to Mr. Aniston, “Kein dearest” asked she, “the time, could you tell me please?”
“Four-twenty, my love” said he with a confused look. “What have you been writing so long?”
“Care to read?”
“My dear, there is blood on the paper and all this ash! Have you started smoking again?”
“I-I feel complete too. Kill me now, could you?.”