Angelryon Open Mic Night – 18 Mar 2009

I love Angelryon and all it stands for. I have a feeling of family there. It is a place of comfort, positivity, solace. On Wednesday nights, our family comes together and takes part in “Open Mic Night”. Some share their own creations, others perform readings by their favourite poets or authors. It is an experience, that in one way or another, never fails to reach out and touch your soul.

The following story was my contribution last night. It is based on words given to me by my fellow members. The words were:
Bullwhip, Ominous, pretend, illuminate, indescribable, combustible, redemption, consumption, perception, spam, Breathing, Waking, satchel, kisses, sycophant, prayer, Phenakism, stenotropic, headphones, Ipod, jealousy, love, Succumb, release, Heavy, Wings, passion, promise, carambaloshus, hippopotamus. As you can see, some let their imaginations run wild, in turn, allowing mine to do the same. I hope you enjoy the story.

As the bedroom door closes, the soft sway of the coiled bullwhip hanging on a hook speaks in a whisper as soft as her breathing. Hy blindly reached out and silenced it, not wanting to illuminate the room and chance waking her. Hy was full of jealousy wondering how she could fall asleep so easily after listening to that sycophant most of the evening, babbling on like some stenotropic beast about anything and everything.

Hy slithered hys hand down the side of the small desk and gripped the hippopotamus hide satchel, and slips hys Ipod into it. The music hy had placed on it would comfort hym during the long train journey tomorrow, hy thought. Hys hand rummaged around inside the soft leather finding, pens, spare lighters, hard candy … probably lemon sherbets. Damn, where were those small headphones? Hy had seen them only the other day. Slowly opening the door hy turned on the bathroom light and looked into the abyss of the satchel … cursing under hys breath, hy made a promise to hymself to buy a spare set that hy would keep in the satchel.

Walking through the house, hy tried to remember where hy had seen the tiny headphones last. From room to room until as hy walked into the kitchen, hy realized hy had made no sandwiches for the trip. Hand on cupboard door pulled it open. Peering inside, hy saw nothing suitable except a can of spam. Not hys favourite, but unless hy wanted day old bread and a sliver of rubbery ham from the station kiosk, it would have to do. those British Rail sandwiches never had been fit for human consumption, hy thought as hy spread mayonnaise and German mustard on the slices of rye bread.

The ominous howl of a neighbour’s tomcat turned hys head towards the window. Damn cats … why can’t people look after them a bit better. Clearly, their perception of responsibility for one’s domestic animals was not the same as hys. Hy spent hours planting bulbs and korms in small half barrels only to go out the next day and find the soil disturbed by felines requiring a litter tray. But hy would smile when hy saw the people next door and pretend the was nothing out of the ordinary. Hy chuckled as hy pondered mousetraps on the surface of the soil.

Hy finished making the sandwiches, wrapped them in saran wrap and placed them in the plastic lunchbox hy carried when traveling. Hy had an indescribable craving for chips so dropped a couple of bags in. Hy would have to stop by the newsagents and grab some chocolate. Hy didn’t eat it much but after hours of dealing with phenakism, hy tended to get a headache and there was something about a sliver of milk chocolate melting on hys tongue that soothed hym and eased the pain that lodged between hys temples.

Carrying hys lunchbox, hy meandered back up the stairs, pushing the door to their room open and sliding the box onto the chest of drawers by the door. Hys clothes were ironed and a clean “wifebeater”, boxers, hanky and socks lay next to the food box. Hy removed wallet, keys and loose change from the pockets of hys jeans, unbuckled the heavy black leather belt and hung it on the hook with the bullwhip. agile fingers deftly unbuttoned the fly and the denim slid over hys hips, down hys legs and rested around hys ankles. Stepping out hy bent over to pick them up and tossed them into the dirty clothes basket in the corner.

Hy seldom wore a shirt at home unless hy was pottering around outside, hy was becoming more and more used to the scars hy bore on hys chest and hy uttered a silent prayer for several acquaintances that were going through the prelude to scars hoping that they would not succumb to the doubt that fills one’s mind when faced with something as malicious as cancer.

The heat in the room was almost at a combustible level and hy moved the thermostat to off and cracked the window a little. Hys knee resting on the edge of the bed as hy did so. Hy jumped markedly as a movement on hys skin dragged hym away from the moonlit view of the estuary and she whispered … “You have a long day tomorrow, aren’t you tired?” Oh damn, had hy awaken her from her dreaming slumber? “I’m exhausted, but I needed to find my headphones”, hy said quietly. Then lifting the quilt, hy slipped into bed beside her.

Hy heard the scraping of wood against wood and felt a tickle on hys chest as she danced the headphone wired like a marionette over hys skin. Hy chuckled and took them from her, murmuring a thank you that hy knew was not required. Placing them on the table beside the bed, hy rolled over to embrace her tenderly and placing kisses upon her delicious lips. “Goodnight baby, see you in the morning.”

Hy closed hys eyes, the slow release of air from hys lungs passing over hys lips. Never in hys life had hy known such passion. She gave hym wings and encouraged hym to soar, facing all hys fears head on. After all hy had been through in hys many years, perhaps hy had gained some redemption. If they could all just see hym now … happy, content beyond belief and so very much in love. To sum it up with her unromantic words … it was not only priceless, it was carambaloshus!!

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