22 May 2012
According to all sources on weather, today was supposed to be awful. Awful grey clouds, awful half-rain-half-wind, and an awful sun, hiding behind an awful layer of various awful ionospheres and general awful radiation-blockers. Just thought you should know that.
A perculiar incident bestowed itself upon me as I strolled up tolvan hill today, banjo in hand. The blistering, endless sun was sweltering in the clean sky as clouds walked by me, and all but the shadows of the oaks stood in my way. I could feel my heels crunch the ancient layer of Tarmac underneath my feet, and the sky warmed my skin like a bath. At every turn, birds seemed to spring from the trees, crowing and chirruping a familiar evening-song. I could see the pollen ahead of me, darting aimlessly to the ground, as my nose started to tingle. Slowly, as the warcry of the bees and flies died to a hum, I paced the last few steps to my house, as far away from the stinking bus and piss-drenched shelters as my shoes could carry me. Taking a careful sip from the clear plastic bottle nestling into the side of my bag, I turned to survey the boiling landscape before me. It was truly beautiful. Limitless blue lining limitless green and yellow, with barely a monochrome object in sight, and all manner of plant-like smells opening to me. I had already planned my evening; homework, drawing, eating, and sitting down, through the long drawn out sessions of internal assessments in the earlier half of the day. Warmth pummeled down onto the bare road as if it were summer, and the exam felt miles away in this heat. I finally had time to organise the day's thoughts. However, Tracing the last few steps to the driveway, A sound caught my ear. A high pitched, whining, buzzing sound. I swatted around my head, waving my arms feebly over my face in an attempt to ward off today's mystery flying insect. However, there was no such bug to be seen, leaving me to twirl in the spot in a mystified sweep of the area. Could it be the cat? Nope, he's out. A bee? Unlikely. A door? Nobody's home.
I could hear it clearer now; but I was blind to it's origin. It sounded almost like a cry for help, on helium, and quite guttural in tone. An animal? I looked under the easy-to-shift rocks, up each tree, in every hedge, even on the car. Nothing
And that, I suppose, is when I saw it: a tiny red woman in the middle of the road.
I walked over to it, as it can't have been much taller than seven inches. A toy, maybe? But I saw that it was moving. Moving far too fluidly. She was dressed all in red, clothing looking like it was made out of the same material as her, like a sweet. She was lying on her side, rib-cage rising and falling as she took her tiny gulps and gasps for air. Her hair was tied back in what resembled a gelatenous bun, for it looked as though her entire form was made out of a shiny, red jelly-like substance. This was intriguing to me. I had never looked at anything like the miniature figure before me, and the sight startled me.
Something was wrong with her minuscule frame, however. Red pools had started to form beneath her, and when she struggled to pull herself to her knees, strings of translucent scarlet gloop hung from her like melting Snow, and I soon came to realise that that was exactly what she was doing: melting. Slowly, her legs and feet flattened into the ground, spreading over it like syrup. Then her arms started to drip, as her hands became fixed to the concrete she lay on. Finally, she stopped struggling, clumsily lying her head back onto the road, her elbows bending into circular shapes as her legs started to drip downhill. After about a minute, her head stirred, turning to look at me this time, with what energy had not escaped the poor creature. Her eyes were only just intact, as her body started to collapse and melt away into a red dewy puddle, but I could make out an expression of remorse from her shiny visage. She took one huge, final breath, and forced seven words out, before being finally denatured into a simple pool of crimson in the road. I had to stoop to catch them. "it was supposed to be awful today..." And with that, she died.
Small Red Woman • Opuss № I