Sticks

11.

'Coffee! Mark! I've made us some coffee...' Laura called out immediately making an effort to temper her exasperation. 'What are you doing? Are you coming in?'

I was standing in the middle of the lawn with a dumbfounded expression as I looked here and there. Turning to face her with my mouth agape, I raised both my arms in a state of total bewilderment. She looked beautiful standing there, her hands pressed firmly against her hips. She looked strong and radiant, her lips pouting moodily with disapproval and her eyes focussed yet still soft and pleading. I walked toward her, my mouth curling into a grateful smile.

'Do you believe how bad it's gotten? I've only left it for a few days.'

'It's not that bad at all, you're being too much of a perfectionist. It's not that important. Sure, it looked very nice but you're making yourself ill.'

'No I know, you're right. I suppose I am overreacting but I worked hard on it, and you can hardly see the stripes anymore.'

'Your health is more important, but the stripes were quite nice.' she smiled.

'Quite nice! They were a fucking masterpiece.' I joked, 'I am going to have to run the mower over it quickly.'

'Really?'

'Yeah, it won't take long, I'll do it in a minute. Let's go inside, we'll have our coffee first.'

I tried to put the state of the lawn out of my mind while we drank our coffee but I sat restlessly glancing now and then in the direction of the garden. Laura could sense my unease.

'I don't want you spending all day out there, you've not been well and you need to rest.'

I had necked the coffee within a few minutes, almost scolding my mouth in the process. I felt a tingling in my hands from nervous excitement as I pushed the lawnmower up the path. As the lawnmower whirled into action the smell of freshly cut grass hit me almost instantaneously. I hadn't realised how much I had missed the smell, but it really had become such an intoxicatingly satisfying odour. I had only pushed the lawnmower up and down for a few lengths before there was a loud clunk. This was followed by such unpleasant grinding and rattling sounds that I had to stop. I knew straight away what it was. How had I forgotten about the sticks? Tipping the mower over, sure enough there was a large piece of broken up stick caught up in the blade. Pulling it free I looked ahead and saw a couple of others nestled in the grass, I picked them up and set them aside.

'At least it's just a few this time and not a whole pile.' I thought to myself.

As I cast my eyes across the lawn my heart sank. On the opposite side of the lawn right by the edge there was in fact a small mound of sticks peaking out of the grass. I squeezed my forehead in my hand and imagined the kind of satisfaction crushing my brain would bring. I stood where I was for a moment collecting my thoughts. I couldn't seem to set my feet into motion, after all going over to the pile of sticks would be an acknowledgement of their existence. I really did not want them to exist. I would see that they wouldn't. I didn't have to put up with this. I would finally do something about it. I positively charged back down to the shed, grabbing the incinerator and slamming it down in the centre of the lawn. I'd had enough and I was determined to be done with it. I would burn every single stick in the garden if I had to.

I tipped half a sack of dried out leaves into the incinerator and set about collecting as many sticks as possible. I snatched up the pile in both hands and tossed it in. Prowling across the lawn I collected each and every stick, some were hidden quite deeply amongst the blades of grass but I was meticulous. When I had half filled the incinerator I fetched some matches and set the can ablaze. A plume of dirty black smoke wafted into the air and a devilish grin curled at my lips as I watched the flames dance just above the edge of the opening. After a few moments I began to jog around the garden collecting more sticks to feed the flames. When the flames began to die down I would tip in more leaves again sending black smoke into the air in a twisting funnel.

'I don't think you should be doing all this Mark!' Laura came marching across the grass toward me.

'Oh, no... yeah I didn't mean to really, I just got carried away. I just got frustrated, there was another pile of sticks over there,' I pointed, 'I just thought if there were no sticks, then whatever it is that's doing it, well, it would have to stop.'

'Yeah I get it, but you're off sick, you need to get yourself well enough for work. Wouldn't it be best to spend the weekend resting?'

'Well if I get this done today, I can spend tomorrow resting. How about that?' I bargained.

'Okay Mark, just try not to get too fixated on the lawn for god's sake. There's more important things on this earth.' Laura turned away reticently and headed back inside.

The flames were beginning to die down yet again and I was almost out of leaves. I raked the lawn collecting all the small twigs and debris into a pile. I then headed down through the trellis archway toward the end of the garden. There were bound to be more sticks here on account of this section of the garden being below the trees canopy. I collected quite a few in a bucket, I suddenly stopped dead and looking around in a state of unease, I saw that there was barely anything left to collect. Was my job done? How could that be the case? I had hardly collected anything and I had expected to fill bucket loads down here. I started to feel a strange sense of dread. Everything around me was so ordinary and unassuming but something seemed off. The gentle summer breeze changed direction oddly and as it shifted over my skin made me feel uncomfortable. The plants seemed to grow differently, their stems and leaves curling and twisting in a way that didn't seem quite right. The gravel below my feet seemed to be arranged peculiarly, the sizes of the various stones not looking as though they belonged next to each other. Even the insects seemed to move in a strange and uncanny fashion.

'There's something wrong with you Mark.' her words came as a whisper at first. Their intensity grew stronger and stronger each time they repeated in my mind.

'What are you doing to yourself? You're jumping at shadows!' I thought to myself, feeling instantly relieved as I walked back up to the lawn.

I arranged all of the sticks in a pile next to the incinerator and smiled at my accomplishment. I couldn't believe it but I really felt an overwhelming sense of elation. I knew this was an overreaction to what I'd done but there was a sense of finality to it, I had dealt with the issue once and for all. There were still some embers smouldering and I hoped it was enough to burn what was left. I emptied the remaining leaves into the incinerator, some of which were not completely dry. They crackled and spat furiously as they hit the heat, billowing plumes of blue black smoke carried away into the air. As the crackling stopped and the flames seemed to fade away to nothing, I was worried that I'd smothered out the fire. After a few moments of inactivity and with a sudden whoosh, flames burst into the air in a frenzy. I lurched back worried that I would be burnt, perhaps I had put too much on all at once. It raged for just a minute before I felt comfortable enough to add the last of the sticks.

I was feeling more serene than I had felt in weeks as I watched the flames clawing rhythmically at the air. There was now a coolness within the breeze, I had spent much of the day outside and the sunlight was beginning to fade. It was that time of year somewhere between summer and autumn, and in the quiet of the early evening I could almost sense the melancholy in the air. Laura looked over at me from the kitchen window, a sort of motionless half smile upon her face. I smiled and waved to her but she'd already turned away. A calmness seemed to have descended on the garden and all that could be heard was the slowly retreating flames as they crackled softly.

The distinct and piercing sound of a snapping stick resounded behind me. I turned in an instant, staring at the shrub behind me. There was a brief rustling of leaves and then silence. I stared at the shrub peering left and right, raising and lowering my head. Something was in there, I was sure of it. I waited and listened. No sound came. Dread enveloped me. My heart rate began to rise at the thought of pulling back the branches. I had to know though. I tried to steady my nerves and stepped toward the bush. Slowly pulling back a large branch I found nothing there but fallen leaves, a few weeds and a single snapped stick.