Quandary

[muchtooarrogant]

LJI Week 10: synesthesia
He can hear the wind outside his window, the oak there bending in time to its gusts. This evening there's a bite to the air, a reminder of the changing season that's echoed in the russet leaves floating groundward.

"Are you going to the party?"

"I wasn't invited."

The sun's last rays are warm against his face, and he closes his eyes, shutting out the dancing branches beyond the glass. The shadows they throw remain, slithering across his skin like chilled snakes.

"You could go with me."

"A sibling escort?"

Somewhere in the distance there's a slowly rising wail, a sound of desperation and urgent intent.

"Sure, it'll be fun."

"Uh, the last time I went to a party with you, I watched while you drank too much, pulled over before you could get sick in my car, and held your head while you committed a hate crime in the McKenzie's front yard."

The sun's warmth vanishes from his face, and the siren's call is abruptly muted. He imagines the flashing lights, rushing figures, racing engines.

"Nikki's going to be there."

"She only said, 'The day is dreary,
He cometh not,' she said."

There is a low rumble from outside, and then a tentative tapping against the window pane. The rain has arrived.

"I thought you liked her?"

"Robert said he was going to ask her out."

The tapping intensifies, a steady thrumming against the glass. Yesterday, there had been a similar thrumming from overhead, holding the umbrella, her wet face turned up to his. They kissed.

"So, you can't like her too?"

"Not according to the guy code."

He opens his eyes in time to see a brilliant flash of lightning, the oak standing resolute, its remaining leaves glistening with a myriad of raindrops. She had tasted like strawberries.

"You look pretty happy for a guy who got blocked by his best friend."

"I'm resilient."

There's an exhilarating wildness now in the scene outside his window. The oak's thrashing outline is blurred with torrents of water cascading from above, its branches scratch scratching along the window's screen. Every few seconds a strobe of lightning aluminates the sky, followed almost instantly by a clap of thunder.

"So, Mr. Resilient, will you go with me to the party tomorrow?"

"I will."

His response tastes like victory. Like strawberries.

Author's Note
The poem my main character quotes from is Mariana By Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

Dan

Comments

[muchtooarrogant]

For me, since I've never seen color, it's all just words. Sky blue, blood red, green grass, and like that. While writing my story, I Googled what colors fall leaves were, and then specifically the ones for oak trees, since that was the tree my main character had outside their window. I eventually went with russet to describe them, since brown, red, and orange were mentioned, and it appeared to be a combination of all three. (shrug) In the end, I'm an amateur playing in an area I don't understand. (grin) Hopefully the big kids won't throw me out.

Dan