Random Works

Blackbird (2.0)

I watched the blackbird fly away. The aged wicker sun lounger felt rough beneath my skin, causing my clothes to snag with the tiniest movement. Eyes watering slightly as the smell of freshly cut grass filled the air, I observed the blackbird almost fade to nothing against the endless blue zircon sky.

Heat attacked my skin as I laid in the sunlight. Birds could be heard calling to each other, as could the sounds of food sizzling on a nearby barbecue, high-pitched chattering in thick accents, and the beginning notes of a song coming from inside my house. Normally I would have turned towards the sound, but for some reason I didn't have the energy.

No reason to feel as awful as I did. It was the hottest afternoon in the summer so far. Though others took great relish in the warmth, I remained consumed with apathy. The last few weeks had seen me housebound and uninspired.

He was coming for me; I knew it even before the footsteps echoed down the hall. The music grew slowly louder and louder, and it didn't take long for Tom to appear by my side and offer me his hand. My husband smiled as he pulled me to my feet, and then we were inches apart and swaying side to side. He knew exactly what song I wanted to hear; "The Fear" by Pulp.

The plan had always been for me to work alone, travel alone, eat alone, sleep alone, and eventually die alone. My parents' divorce shortly after my seventh birthday had left me convinced that there was no way in hell love existed and I definitely never cared to test this.

Until I met Tom, that is. Even I couldn't deny myself Tom.

In a strange way he was everything I'd never been searching for. Incredibly skinnier than me and ten times as intelligent, I probably should have hated him. Elbows, cheekbones and ribs that could cut glass managed to slice their way through my defences and leave me desperately in need of his slightly uncomfortable, narrow-wristed embrace. Thick ebony hair. Skin so pale it reflected sunlight. Onyx eyes. Sallow cheeks. Rose pink cupids bow lips. Slender figure constantly clad in black, grey or begrudgingly indigo clothes. I once gave him a red shirt which he instantly rejected under the premise that it was 'too bright'. Tempestuous and incessant at times yet thoughtful and gentle at others, I admired every aspect of his jagged personality. Tom was deeply interested in politics. A lifetime of vegetarianism made him a strong advocate for animal rights. His childhood ruled by strict Catholicism had left him a bitter atheist.

He was the perfect imperfect man.

My cheek was starting to numb slightly as it rested on its hard collarbone pillow, his arms enshrouding me like a pall, and I sighed with relief as Jarvis Cocker continued to croon in the distance. Tom sang along only slightly out of time and for a second I felt an actual emotion.

"Oh baby, here comes the fear again..."

The louder the singing got, the more vigorously we danced, and it didn't take long for us both to start laughing. I couldn't remember feeling so happy in a long time- but then the song began to slow down and we went back to standard swaying. After it ended, he kissed me on the forehead. A confused expression crossed his face.

"Callie, why are you crying?" he spoke softly.

"Because this isn't real..." I whispered. His frown deepened and a trembling hand rose up to wipe a tear from my cheek.

"What are you talking about?"

"This... this isn't real. This isn't real!" I yelled at him suddenly.

Shrieking as something flew close to my face, I quickly ducked and covered my head with my hands. My breathing was heavy as I waited for my erratic heart to stop racing. Bewilderment crashed over me in waves when I lowered my hands and found the sky had gone dark. Standing up, my eyes gradually began to drink in my surrounds though at first my brain couldn't process it.