The Oak Tree on the Side of Burn’s Lane By James Hayes The Morning was like all others the sound of him crossing the landing to the toilet and taking a long piss. She shuttered as she heard it, and prayed that she could get back to sleep and block the pain that she knew was coming. The feeling of being exposed to the coldness of the room and all the warmth fading as he grunted all over her. And then in her mind she would find herself an old oak tree, with many names carved into its trunk that grew on the side of Burns Lane. She would fall asleep under that tree, yearning for the days that have gone. The days when she as happy, when the memories of other lovers caressing her. Their sweet words telling her lies that she loved to hear, anything but the pain a man she had come to hate. She woke up hours after he had left, cold and sore she feels disgust. The hot water turns her pale body a bright rose red. The feelings of him are burned away but her body continues to shake. Her legs shake as she steps into shower. She opens her eyes to see the old oak tree that stands on the side of Burns Lane. It is summer here on Burn’s Lane, but a cold breeze has come to the old oak tree. And upon the wind she smells something that flickers the fire in her heart. It smells of cigarette smoke from Philly’s just around the corner. She looks up the Lane and she sees a faint mountain range, it’s a clear night and the Silver-mines can be seen. The wind catches her hair and tugs at it softly, A slight shiver bolts down her back and lodges deep in her lower stomach. A small smile creeps across her face as she stands. The sent encircles her slender figure lifting her from the green grass at the trunk of the old oak tree that stand on the side of Burns Lane. With a light step she runs down the Lane toward a moment of desire. She wakes to find she is still shaking as the hot water has turned cold. She dawns a pale purple dress that shows her figure. It smells of the sweatiness of love. She quickly mists herself with the overwhelming sent of violet and rose petals with a suggestion of orange flower and cinnamon. With a new found enthusiasm she flees to a place where she can flutter free from the demands of a man who she once cared about. The thought of him coming home to an empty house sends a hint of fear though her, she hurries home to wait for the man she no longer loves. Hours pass as she lays in wait for the man who clams that she is everything to him. The sweetness of his absence finds its way to her, calming her to the comfort of his money. In her slumbers she awakens to see the old oak trees on the side of Burn’s Lane. Night has come to the surrounding area, the sky is freckled with stars twinkling far off in the dark sky. And up Burns Lane, she can still see the purple Silver-mines Mountains beacon her with the rising of the moon. A light breeze caresses her cheek as she stands. She can hear the laughter of people in Philly’s pub. She leaves the soft grass from under the old oak tree on Burns Lane and seeks out the delight from the rising moon. She snaps awake to hear the answering machine clicking on. The sound of his voice causes her to cower. But what he has to say brings a bright smile to her face. I’m working late. There is…. Don’t stay up. She jumps up and grabs the purple dress and heads out into the crisp night. The vibrations beat deep into her bones. Her heart flutters as her body sways to the life of the night. Like minds dance and move with the only notion to be free from what she has not. The smell of hot bodies and cigarettes breath into her very soul as Philly’s bar sways with people. And through it all a spark of interest catches her attention. She can smell his breath and feel his hand softly touching her even before their eyes met. Like two solar bodies gravitating toward each other, they slowly circled the crowd to meet at the end of the bar. Her hands met his with a spark of white hot heat. He fell into the absence that she held open and she caressed him like a new born child. Their heat combined into one as they circled amongst the night stars. As the stars of the night fell and the ambiance of their heat smoulder to an ember heat, words are spoken. What is your name, if you don’t mind me asking? He asked softly into her ear as they slowly waltzed. I’m sorry, but I here to escape, but I wish I was not, the bitterness of who may be waiting at home settles in as she spoke. I’m with another. No, you are with me at this moment. And in this moment all I want to know, is your name? His voice dug deep into her desires. The soft light of what they held, now brightly flickered a dull orange. She turned and ran back to the man she once said she loved more than anything. The coldness of the stranger’s absence left her wanting more. But the fear of him getting home before her was out of control. And so in a purple dress she ran from the freedom of the night. And ran to the man she said yes to on one fateful day. The big car that he drove was in the driveway as she got to the house. To her amazement the front door was locked. With no keys, she held onto the peaceful moment when the house was quiet and the door was closed. The warmth that was in such abundance earlier, had quickly escaped into the moonless night, causing her to shake. With an acceptance born of fear she raised her hand and knocked on the door. Silence followed the echoes of her announcement. And after what felt like a single heart beat. She could hear his footsteps approaching; through the darkness beyond the open door she could feel his rage. It burned like cinders against the night. It first started out with words of rage against her, shaking the foundation of the house as they erupted from his onslaught. His breath was so hot than she waited to burst into flames like a young sapling in the oncoming forest fire. But not a single tear fell from her cheek, for in her mind she was hugging the old oak tree on Burns Lane, whose roots grew deep into the earth. Whose trunk was perfect for holding onto? Who’s a leaf has seen many loves been formed and lost. His rage flared out to the point where he usually stops, and succumbs to the person he once loved. But the wall he had built for her had taken all that it could take. And now they came crashing down on her. Her frailness was what he loved about her, her innocent look, he like the feeling of protecting such a fragile flower. And now they are broke under his broken-hearted hatred for them all. Her broken body was left to bleed out over her purple dress. In a panic, in a fear of being called a murderer, he ran from the house, as the purple dress got darker and darker. And as silence admits the blackness, a spark of light was seen, followed by an odd stillness. The pain was what she expected, but the lack of ability to move caught her by surprise. A crunch of pain in her arm and sent a bolt of fear jolting her body awake. Confused and only seeing through one eye, she could not recognize where she was. The smoke quickly filled the house and a threatening orange light grew. Panic set in and she needed to get out. But the smoke burned her eyes and seared her lungs. She tried to scream but it only added to pain in her throat. Another crunch in her other arm and the pain that followed sent her to the floor. The orange glow quickly consumed the darkness and the coldness that she felt was filled with an overbearing heat. She blinked her tear filled eyes, trying to see anything that she could do to save herself. But she knew this was it and so she closed her eyes and began to cry. The tears took their toll upon her and began to slip out of mind. Through the orange flames she spotted a shadow that moved through the smoke and came to her. The touch was cold against the fire, but it was what she had been crying for, with broken arms she hugged the dark shadow. And a part of her giggled, I know this feeling. It said. It felt hard and comforting. Like the old oak tree on the side of Burn’s Lane, she said to herself as she began to smile. The sudden shock of the cold night sprang life through her body, and with it she began to cough. With the pain in her eyes searing as she tried to open them. She fought the pain and looked upon the face of the man from Philly’s. He was blacked with smoke and coughing. Her smile cracked to a question. What, why did… I’m sorry but I followed you home. I wanted to know, I… I almost left; I don’t know why I didn’t… But after I saw a man leave and the place on fire, I thought of you in that purple dress. And I came looking for you. She lay on the ground under the old oak tree on the side of Burn’s Lane she looked at him, smiled and said... My name is Pauling. Copyrighthayesp2006
Posted on: Thu, 29 Aug 2013 11:25:28 +0000
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