~ Skeletal Limbs Reaching Out ~ { The short-story that came with the limited edition of the Harvest Rain Evening and Devotion E.P. } ******************** When the night wind shakes leaves across the tin roof of the old house or when the barn outside is making the nights chorus echo across the lawn, I wait for Her fingers to scratch at my windowsill. The Hazel tree outside as seen through the dirty window has turned into Her corpse as the Spanish Moss grows and glows over its limbs, its glowing skeletal limbs that reach out toward the side of the old house. During the course of Her visit I have watched Her breath turn each leaf into a decaying mask of blood-red, a soiled sheet of dusk-orange or a glistening eye of country-rust. They seem to glow outside before She finally blows each Autumnal leaf through the air, each one spiraling down to its destination on the frost covered lawn. I hear them at night washing against the ground and crawling across the roof of the old place like a nocturnal family of little mice. The soil here is old and it is Her very perfume. She smells like a library. It is the hundred year old corpse of all those leaves, all those many crawling leaves sleeping in a casket of old roots. Im waiting for Her to scratch at my window. As I sit and look out the old window glass I know it will be soon. I can see Her gown already, Her gown of gray floating around and coming in, those night clouds hovering like seductive female apparitions, speaking through the shivering dead leaves in a fantastic silent dead language. The Hazel tree begins to illuminate and it reaches out. It seems to awaken and sway around like a skeleton in the wind. The Spanish Moss, Her old gray hair, is lifted about and flows around like an ancient river made from some ghostly dream. The scent of burning leaves swirls through the room as I cover myself in bed sheets. Something is moving across the tin roof up above me. Leaves and limbs. The barn outside begins to howl and sigh as I close my eyes. The skeletal limbs reach out towards me, brushing against the walls and eyeless windows of my room. Her fingers begin to scratch. Her fingers scratch at my windowsill. Jason Thompkins ********************** ~ The Midnight Field ~ Harvest Rain ~ Evening and Devotion E.P. ~ youtu.be/ZVLs_qwu7Ek
Posted on: Sat, 05 Jul 2014 10:22:33 +0000
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