#andreamichael

The wind strokes its fingers through the tall grass

The sun glazes the river in a thick orange and pink

The tips of the trees battle for the clouds

The land smiles in unison with the sky

The view is brief, not to spoil from familiarity

Breathe quickly to soak in its life

  Now the land lay as skeletons

Stomped on by anxious machinery

Their bones twisted and distorted

Cement slowly casts their innocence

Their veins collapse beneath signed papers

                  Constructed houses pay for a view

The shell of empty life needs to be filled

Morning coffee tastes better with a sunrise

It becomes spoiled, over sweetened with every sip

The life begins to dull, the paint chips and fades

The Endless Reign

Andrea Mountford

  We rode our bikes, fearlessly guarding our kingdom. Thomas pounded on the peddles of his bright red steed which he rode training wheel-less since he was four, a year younger than me, which I’ll never be able to forget. My purple bike kept its distance, recovering scars reminded me to leave room to react to his spontaneous jerk of steering, laughing at my terror of being hit.

The sun sets so the light lingers on the tops of the trees that line our street, stray rays glimmer on the faded pavement, catching specks of mica. The glowing trees always lift my eyes, focusing on them as a reflection of the day and foreshadowing the unknown promise of the next. The glowing reassurance of childhood. We laced through the warn paths and found familiar footing on threating rocks to get to and from our worlds to explore. We had built secret passages weaved throughout our kingdom, testing us on our ability to chase the summer days away. Forts were strung up wherever we could find the space, nested in a tree, carved under a fortress of dynamited rock, or just next to a particular swamp where we liked catching frogs.  We had high responsibilities to entertain our subjects but they always came second, after all the peach throwing fights, the rope swinging contests, the wiffle ball games, and the dog-pulled rollerblading races, we put our competitiveness aside and rekindled our loyalty. The sacredness of our domain couldn’t be affected by mere wins and losses. We had a monarchy to run and we were fully submersed in our duties.

A stray trailer was parked on the side of the street. An intruder. Thomas jumped off his bike while still in motion and flung it to its side, letting it pitifully skid to a stop. I put down my kickstand and stood by the foreigner. He jumped up on the metal and wood trailer at the center and slowly started rocking it on the axis. I continued as look out as the investigation was underway. He began moving towards the hitch, and as the trailer started tilting down towards the ground, he’d catch it and run back to the axis, leveling out the trailer. He started towards the other side and ran off the open back end, causing it to crash into the ground, echoing a large bang. A soft ting could be heard through the echo and we both looked to see what broke. A small piece of metal that attached the hitch to the trailer. I picked it up but it was quickly snatched out of my hands. A decision had to be made. Thomas pretended to throw it into the dense swamp that we never cared to explore too thoroughly, trying to earn my reaction, which he always did.  He was a proponent of the action while I needed further convincing.

            “Come on lighten up,” Thomas egged me on.

            “No we don’t know whose this is.”

            “Who cares?”

            “Okay fine.”

            “Really?” Thomas bounced it playfully in his palm, its life riding on my indecisiveness.

            “No wait I change my mind.”

He leaned his body back, his arm perched above his head, and rocked forward, launching the tiny piece of metal deep into the moat of our kingdom, banishing it from returning. I giggled nervously and Thomas seemed satisfied. We quickly jumped onto our bikes and continued along our route, a little faster and glancing behind as we did, concerned of witnesses lurking.

It was still dark out when I awoke by the phone ringing. I attempted to sleep through it until I was harshly dragged out of bed. I quickly flung on boots and a sweatshirt and was forced out the door. I was still asleep as I was trying to piece together what was happening. Thomas was being held by the collar of his shirt as he attempted to explain himself, hands up defensively with the occasional shoulder shrug, I was used to these idiosyncrasies. I was familiar with the movements of his hands, the way his fingers were always tightly locked, causing the tips to bend upwards. I was also familiar with taking the blame for his actions, which, when faced to face, he could no longer take the lie and set me free from responsibility.

Only the unsteady light of the flashlight could be seeing walking itself down the road. I watched from the living room window until it was out of sight. I tried to stay awake to fight with him through the swamp, but I couldn’t even do that from the couch as I quickly fell asleep. I awoke a second time to Thomas wrestling out of his boots by the door, fighting not only the unforgiving rubber but also his frustration. I had let him down. Guilt began brewing as I played the scene of telling him to throw the hitch connector, I should have joined him beyond the castle walls.

              “Sorry for blaming you,” he slumped on the adjacent couch.

            “You always do.” It was true, he always did.

            “I must have thrown that thing a mile into the woods, it’ll never be found.” He quickly turned his failure into an achievement, clearly impressed with himself and lessening my guilt.

            “Hey wanna build a tree fort tomorrow? I saw a perfect tree out there.”