Cresote Part I
robertthecat
Posts: 69
Okay, let me know if you guys find this one interesting enough to make me dig it out my archives and post the rest of it here. Let me know if you find it a bore. Be honest. I don't mind. This one's finished but could use a swift rewrite. This is another one way back from my old college days.
Cresote
=====================
Saturday
Martha sat up in bed, a bit lost in the dark and surprised, while tonight's passing train wreaked chaos in her bedroom. Her bed was afloat on the unsteady ground. And as her senses sharpened, silhouettes of the world danced around her--the velvet painting of a Roman soldier hung on the wall next to her, the picture collage of her wedding, and the swinging pink, lace nightgown hung lazily on a coat rack. The old coffee tin stuffed with pansies, dust-covered and imitation silk, shook with the tarnishing mirror on her prized, antique dresser. "Damn train!" she whined. Her ears rang as the train whistle blew. Her hands quickly cupped her ears in response. Looking out her bedroom window, she grew disgusted. The dark silhouettes of the passing freight cars formed perfect rectangles. Not a single one looked different. Beside her, her husband smiled, still fully asleep. A snore broke Neil's silence. "Great," Martha said as she plopped her pillow atop her head and tried to sleep.
Monday
“The Cresote plant is the only plant that lives in the low deserts of North America. This plant marks the lowest land level in North American continent, several feet below sea level,” the young park ranger continued as she lead a group of tourist around the desert center’s premiere cactus garden. Martha listened, wondering if the new, young ranger would miss a line in her speech. The park ranger continued, “It’s leaves maintain moisture and were often given to oxen and used by travelers as a source of water to ensure their survival while crossing Death Valley to the gold country in California.”
Martha sighed. "I swore to myself I was going to leave for the store this morning," she said, as she watched her shadow float along the desert floor through the cresote forest. She stopped momentarily and dropped the bags of groceries on the dirt. "That's what I'd planned all along." Martha caught the strap of her handbag, which was slipping off her shoulder once more, and pulled it up, so that it hung squarely. She wiped her warm forehead, bent down to pick up the bags, and continued walking along the dirt road home.
The sun, now hid behind the peaks of the Old Woman Mountains, painted the ground a warm terracotta. Her shoes clung to the bottoms of her feet, above them her legs were caked and dusty. She passed Essex's town sign a quarter-mile ago and had only about a quarter-mile left to travel before she reached home. The plastic grocery bags swung beside her dusty legs. She wondered if the eggs were getting too warm.
Monday
The screen door creaked when Neil walked outside. Today, Neil held the door slightly open and stood at the threshold, waiting.
"What is it?" Martha asked, as she approached him, brushing the cinders that sprinkled his newly washed overalls. Gently, she ran her hand across his nametag, Neil, with the words Gerald Mining Co. stitched above it.
"I'm leaving," he said. "What are you doing today? Are you going to make it over there or what?"
"Yes," she replied, scanning the hazy dawn, which colored the ground a temperate burgundy. "I'm leaving pretty soon," Martha said.
"What? Sun's not even up. Whata you rushing for?"
"Nothing." She squinted and rubbed her warm arms. The sun still hid behind the eastern mountains. "It takes awhile. I don't have transportation. My legs are not wheels you know. They're not even like how they used to be."
"Hmmm. Guess you're right."
Martha chuckled. She caught a familiar smile on Neil's face just as he turned to leave before she had the chance to kiss him.
"You oughta take a look in the mirror!" she yelled to him. For a moment, he turned and stood silently. She beamed, as she examined his gaze. He faded with the morning shadows. Martha managed to slip in a wave good-bye, then Neil got into his truck and left. She watched as he ran over the cresote bushes.
Cresote
=====================
Saturday
Martha sat up in bed, a bit lost in the dark and surprised, while tonight's passing train wreaked chaos in her bedroom. Her bed was afloat on the unsteady ground. And as her senses sharpened, silhouettes of the world danced around her--the velvet painting of a Roman soldier hung on the wall next to her, the picture collage of her wedding, and the swinging pink, lace nightgown hung lazily on a coat rack. The old coffee tin stuffed with pansies, dust-covered and imitation silk, shook with the tarnishing mirror on her prized, antique dresser. "Damn train!" she whined. Her ears rang as the train whistle blew. Her hands quickly cupped her ears in response. Looking out her bedroom window, she grew disgusted. The dark silhouettes of the passing freight cars formed perfect rectangles. Not a single one looked different. Beside her, her husband smiled, still fully asleep. A snore broke Neil's silence. "Great," Martha said as she plopped her pillow atop her head and tried to sleep.
Monday
“The Cresote plant is the only plant that lives in the low deserts of North America. This plant marks the lowest land level in North American continent, several feet below sea level,” the young park ranger continued as she lead a group of tourist around the desert center’s premiere cactus garden. Martha listened, wondering if the new, young ranger would miss a line in her speech. The park ranger continued, “It’s leaves maintain moisture and were often given to oxen and used by travelers as a source of water to ensure their survival while crossing Death Valley to the gold country in California.”
Martha sighed. "I swore to myself I was going to leave for the store this morning," she said, as she watched her shadow float along the desert floor through the cresote forest. She stopped momentarily and dropped the bags of groceries on the dirt. "That's what I'd planned all along." Martha caught the strap of her handbag, which was slipping off her shoulder once more, and pulled it up, so that it hung squarely. She wiped her warm forehead, bent down to pick up the bags, and continued walking along the dirt road home.
The sun, now hid behind the peaks of the Old Woman Mountains, painted the ground a warm terracotta. Her shoes clung to the bottoms of her feet, above them her legs were caked and dusty. She passed Essex's town sign a quarter-mile ago and had only about a quarter-mile left to travel before she reached home. The plastic grocery bags swung beside her dusty legs. She wondered if the eggs were getting too warm.
Monday
The screen door creaked when Neil walked outside. Today, Neil held the door slightly open and stood at the threshold, waiting.
"What is it?" Martha asked, as she approached him, brushing the cinders that sprinkled his newly washed overalls. Gently, she ran her hand across his nametag, Neil, with the words Gerald Mining Co. stitched above it.
"I'm leaving," he said. "What are you doing today? Are you going to make it over there or what?"
"Yes," she replied, scanning the hazy dawn, which colored the ground a temperate burgundy. "I'm leaving pretty soon," Martha said.
"What? Sun's not even up. Whata you rushing for?"
"Nothing." She squinted and rubbed her warm arms. The sun still hid behind the eastern mountains. "It takes awhile. I don't have transportation. My legs are not wheels you know. They're not even like how they used to be."
"Hmmm. Guess you're right."
Martha chuckled. She caught a familiar smile on Neil's face just as he turned to leave before she had the chance to kiss him.
"You oughta take a look in the mirror!" she yelled to him. For a moment, he turned and stood silently. She beamed, as she examined his gaze. He faded with the morning shadows. Martha managed to slip in a wave good-bye, then Neil got into his truck and left. She watched as he ran over the cresote bushes.
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Comments
You know I said that to you someplace else too!