Perfect Family Tales And Other Trivia

The art of the short-story writer is that of the cartoonist. It is the magical craft of creating entire worlds with a few simple strokes of a pen. Tales told by an idiot? Maybe! But my tales are also a mix of reality and fantasy; truth and lies; some based on my own family; others, not. Readers must guess which characters are real; who are inventions - and who are an amalgam of both. Please draw the boundaries for yourself.

Sunday, 30 September 2012

‘You – And The Day'

Monchique.MountainsOur best day was the day we dared.

We hit the road at noon, eyes puckered against the piercing lights of a faultless sky.

Then speeding on, ever-faster, we became mountain goats on tiny bikes, fairly skipping, prancing through ring-slim, beribboned, be-tasselled trails, whose ends uncoiling, frayed slowly, calmly, revealing the gentle embrace of  yielding hills.

When  in a still moment we stopped to rest, you whispered: “You – and the day – I’m young again. Sixteen once more.”

“Me, too!”, I sighed. Then scrambling, trembling, hillside kids, we delved, dived to where all fragrance met, plucking, savaging wild and secret fruits, their seething juices blue and purple-black. Fervid, then wedded, finally spent.

Brief silence. Adrift. Dozing. Gorged. Happiness complete.

But we were briskly stirred. Blinking, returned to earth.

“Nice day for it, then?”

Giggling, we nodded, most contrite. Then staggered homeward, half-drunk on our feast of private plums just pulled.

Somersaulting, freewheeling ever downward, at last we crashed into the trailing fleece of the dying, citrus- cinnamon-scented sun.

“Time for bed?”, you asked.

“Of course!”, I said.

Natalie Wood

(Copyright, Natalie Irene Wood – 01 October 2012)

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