Green and blue

[squirmelia]

Sunday morning, thieves rising. I'm nervous, never stolen anything of importance before. (Well, it's not really stealing - it's more a case of reclaiming something that was once precious to the great-grandfather). It's a globe. A globe with the land and the seas, all marked up, textured in green and blue. It's balanced on a splintering wooden stand, and it shimmers, just slightly, as you turn it and spin it to find somewhere else in the world that you want to be.

We're all smiling, on a get-away high, and the planet is ours. We drift off in the car, successful. Then I notice the motorbike that is speeding towards us, following us. It's getting closer, and I know now that we might not get away. I feel nauseous, just slightly.

We spin swiftly away from the road, swerving with tragedy, as the motorbike copies our movements. An ant leaps from the dashboard as we collide amongst trees and pillars with a reverberating roar that rushes violently all the way through my stunned body. The motorbike clings to us. It is scraping the side of the car, the ant has gone, and the day is grey and then dripping with feeling, chewed up pieces of feeling.

I remember what it is about the globe, that makes it special, not the great-grandfather bit, but the real bit, the important part - You spin it, and you'll know where you'll end up. If I had spun it, before being here, then I'd have known, or so the myth goes. I would have known that my seconds were fading, that the ant would be the last animal I'd engage with. That this would be the only possible place that the globe could have spun to. This land mass, this throttled green eternity.

Comments

[arachne.livejournal.com]

Y'know what I was saying about your entries, and how I like them? This is a *sterling* example.

[ex-d2933.livejournal.com]

there was once a boy who finished reading ham on the rye. he was at work and he took of his pants and walked the other way

[squirmelia.livejournal.com]

There was once a drinks bottle, a black and silver drinks bottle. A girl drank from it, until it started tasting a bit mouldy. She then buried it in a plant pot, along with a melted snowball and her dead work colleague who used to sit next to her.