Roach Motels for the Elderly (614 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 2 on 9 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by T.chow <trcose.at.wisc.edu> (View user info) at 2004-01-21 13:52:58 EST
Mary had been in the hospital for three months. The day had finally come. It was aching cold in her guts. She would be leaving soon; she knew. Her insides murmured the minutes one by one; the IV dribbled into her wrinkled arm; consciousness hissed from the corners of her eyes.
*
The two children squatted together, close. Their attention bent hard towards their feet, whispers floated on their hushed fascination.
"Do ya think 'til go in?" the little girl asked.
"Most always do." replied the boy aloofly. The roach twitched closer to the lethal little accommodations, feelers feeling and entranced by the hints of food and whatever it is roaches enjoy most.
"What happens when 'ey do?" the girl leaned away a little from the bug, her attention hopelessly entangled by the transpiring drama.
"'Ey git dead." Answered the boy. He had the kind of bravado usually reserved for magic shows and ghost stories.
"Whot's 'at like?"
*
Great red hills crawled the horizon. A moon hung yellow and nearly full, trailing an entourage of stars spackled to the deep teal heavens. Beneath, pale waves of grass sloped and rose in swells and ebbs. Mary was very sleepy.
Her lawn lapped happily at her naked ankles to her hips. The cool blades salved her creaking limbs. As far as she could see, the maroon mountains hemmed in her silver rustling sea. There was not much else to see, but there was very much. The twilight grass seemed to be working out a song, a melody. First it rose up there on the left; then it would rear up on the right, and splash down in hushed surf, before rolling over somewhere else.
A hum became apparent to Mary. She realized she had been hearing it all along, but just then had she started to listen. It was like one long low note; she could feel it in her ribs like an invisible blanket wrapped around her insides. And it stretched from her to forever. And further, or so it seemed.
*
"You'll see," said the boy "the roach'll go in and then 'e won't come out, be'ez he cain't move. You cain even pick 'im up an 'ey won't move." He patiently explained to Mary the intricacies of death.
"Whoy cain't 'e move?"
"Coz' 'es dead."
"But whoy's dat?"
The boy threw his hands up, feigning the kind of exasperation his parents would show when he'd ask too many questions. "Jes' wotch."
*
Another note joined the first; it was low too. This one moved in Mary's legs. She looked to them, they had become weak and fragile from so long in bed. When she looked, they seemed healthy and firm; but perhaps it was just the moonlight. But another note interrupted the thought before she could finish. This harmony ran along the bones of her arms and into her fingers. There was no doubt: her wrinkles were gone; she was younger.
Melody washed up her spine, straightening her back: across her face, flattening the skin: through her breasts, making them full and smooth again. Strange enough, she could even feel it in her hair, washing out the grey of age.
Another sound joined the song, a rumble. This she felt through her entire body. It was different. It was like stone caterpillars crawling along her bones and curling up in her stomach. In the distance she saw a light above the tides of grass. She watched as it crossed the plain. It was a train without wheels, running over the top of the blades of her pasture. The engine was the color of the sky, like deep teal and smoky white. The cars trailed back as far as Mary could see.
As Mary watched the train made one long slow turn, and it's big pale light pointed in her direction. It sped in heavy lead and leather and coal. The rumbling grew louder until it was shaking Mary by the bones. It hurt her feet to stand on the grumbling ground. She looked down at them and realized she was now only a teenager; she was still un-aging. Mary turned and ran from the big pale scary light.
Mary ran through the pale silver grass. Run Mary run.
She ran until she was only a child.
She ran until she could only crawl like a baby.
She stopped running and shrank; the light was still coming.
The song shrilled and whined, and clinked and clanked.
Mary closed her eyes and saw only maroon hills and teal skies.
The light rushed over. Locomotive titan, iron behemoth, unstoppable and pale.
*
The boy shook the little box. The roach rattled inside. With a screwdriver he pried off the lid and the dried bug fell out and didn't move. He picked it up and held it out to Mary.
"'Ere Mary, see? 'At's dead."
User Reviews
Submitted by Ballare (user info) at 2006-07-24 22:34:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by dakingisdead (user info) at 2004-01-21 22:19:10 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I hear my train a coming.
Submitted by T.chow (user info) at 2004-01-21 17:34:59 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
thanks, i just had a busy winter vacation.
Submitted by gascs (user info) at 2004-01-21 15:06:50 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I'm glad to see you're back from your sabbatical.
Submitted by Phinch (user info) at 2004-01-21 15:02:54 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
i like the dialect.
Submitted by SpikeGoddess (user info) at 2004-01-21 14:37:59 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Why don't you post more often?!?!?!
SpikeGoddess
Submitted by j0andre1 (user info) at 2004-01-21 14:37:25 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Some very impressive writing based around a plot I haven't the slightest idea how to follow
I like choo choo's
Submitted by BRICKHOUSE (user info) at 2004-01-21 14:12:01 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Im not for sure what to think
+2 for that
Submitted by T.chow (user info) at 2004-01-21 13:59:23 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
inspired by godspeed you black emperor!