Ok The pushing my feelings down idea isn't working so well. I posted this on IG last year. Last time we broke up I grew a beard to try and help get over her. This year I think I'm going to try something different. For the longest time I've always had an itch to write some fiction. I've always felt really dumb for thinking about doing it so I've never tried. Plus what the hell do I know about writing fiction? I don't know if it's too much Lord of the Rings or what but as an attempt to get my mind off of letting go of the woman I love and who probably would have been my wife I guess now is as good a time as any to start trying to write this stupid stuff. I also have this place to write it all that is secret and safe. Plus it's nice to have it online in case I die suddenly at some point in my life maybe friends and family will stumble upon my thoughts and find some sort of enjoyment out of this. So I think as, I don't know, a late new years resolution and maybe some sort of therapeutic coping mechanism I'm going to start what can only be a terrible fiction story. But what the hell else am I going to do with my mind? Sit around and think about all the mistakes I made in the relationship that I can never undo? ugh what a terrible place my mind can be. So here we go, since I haven't been able to sleep well this week I'll use the awake time to start writing.
The Garden District of Terraporum
Darkness and silence. That's how the day began. That's how everyday began before this one. Lutum's eyes were fighting to stay closed. The cold morning air cut through the window like a foot through thin ice. Lutum forced them open his green eyes dazed, slowly focused on the pillow straight in front of him. "Dawn will be here soon," He said out loud as his bare feet swung from the safety of the cozy warm pile of blankets wrapping him. He rested his feet on the cold wooden floor boards beneath him. The boards that had been there long before him, cut from trees older than Lutum could imagine, which is rather old. Lutum scratched his long golden hair as it feel in front of his eyes he exhaled pushing the hair up invisibly for a moment then feeling the hairs fall slowly back against his face. He stood up and walked over towards the window, nothing. Darkness and silence, he thought.
Lutum turned towards the fireplace and began to work the semi warm coals of last night pushing his hair over his head with his hand he began to blow carefully on the embers. The Darkness of the day pushed back on the embers as they faded after each breath. Lutum carefully introduced new kindling for the embers to slowly and carelessly feed on. In a short time, what was once dark and nearly dying had once again began to roar and come to life. The darkness was pushed back against the corners of the humble house. Shadows hiding behind furniture and decor most of which Lutum crafted himself or his father before him. He scooped the kettle into the water basin and rested it over the fire. His left hand still stinging from the cold of the water. It was a refreshing sting. He creaked back over towards his bed across the boards beneath him. He sat on his bed and began to pull socks over his numbing feet. He threw on a shirt buttoned it with attention to each button. Lutum stood and reached for his slacks he hopped into them one leg at a time. Already feeling the warmth of the clothes against his cold skin his eyes continued to wonder out the window.
"Where is it?" He thought. His eyes fixed on the nothingness of the outside. His mind began to wonder. Lutum always enjoyed when his mind wondered. It's the kind of thing a person can never plan for. If someone tried to schedule a mind wondering it never seems to come. Daydreams to truly be a daydream must happen spontaneously and even during the daydream if that person were to realize what was happening the mind would no longer be wondering for it would have found itself. The soft crescendo of the kettle's whistle snapped Lutum's mind back into the room. He paced toward the kettle with no certain hurry in his step. That's the way Lutum preferred to live all of his life, "haste was a thing for discontented," his father would always tell him, "and who could be more content than us the gardeners of Terraporum?" with the rhythm of a motion that has been performed countless yesterdays Lutum raised the kettle from the flame and tipped it over his old weathered mug. Ever so carefully he carried his steaming mug towards the cupboards and reached for some morning beans. He ground them up with a wooden kitchen hammer and sprinkled them into his drink. The room began to change as a new aroma was introduced. "It's all coming together, now to...ah shit..." Lutum looked towards the window. It was no longer complete darkness. Light had begun to push up it began to trace the silhouette of the city. "Missed it," He said with a sigh as he headed back towards the window. "Oh well, it's still just as beautiful as ever," As he raised his mug towards his stubbly chin then to his lips. "My favorite day of the year."
Lutum hung there in that moment. He tried to hold the sunrise like he did everyday. But exactly like each before it he couldn't. He knew it was foolish to imagine he could but still he enjoyed trying. "Alright let's see what today will bring" Lutum turned towards the door. He stepped out onto his porch continuing down the steps until his boots finally felt it, that ice cold hard dark soil. He looked up towards the south a figure started to emerge from the shadows it came towards him faster and faster. Lutum stood his ground, nothing could surprise him while in his families garden. The figure started to take shape more and more as it barreled closer. Lutum couldn't help but grin. "Good morning Mercedes," He welcomed as he stooped down to let the giant dog cover his face with slober. "Do you know what today is Mercedes? It's the first day of Spring!" Mercedes sat down looking very serious. "We've got a lot of work today girl," he said as they looked at each other.
Lutum grabbed his seed bag from the old leaning shed and headed towards the southwest corner of his garden. Mercedes followed behind him panting at a level that disturbed the silence of the morning in the best kind of way. Lutum meticulously pressed his left index finger into the cold hard soil creating shallow holes two inches apart, exactly. After each hole he would drop one seed. After each row he would sip one sip of his quickly cooling coffee. Mercedes would follow behind pressing her paws over the holes.
The paper kites- Bloom