The sound of her car was a familiar sound to me by now. Its deep and mighty roar would shake up the forest on more than one occasion. Whenever that roar was heard, mosquitoes would flare up in anticipation and I'd be sure to follow. This time, however, there was a strange squeak to the growl, as if the car was howling out defiance. It came swirling up towards the rivers crushing bushes and bugs and whatever else came up under its tyres. For a moment there I thought it would plunge into the river, but just before it reached the water, it let loose a gutwrenching pierce. The car stopped, as suddenly as it had appeared. I wasn't the only one to get nervous, but instead of turning tail, like the others did, I found myself hopping a few branches closer to the scene of the crime. My gut told me there was something going on down there. This wasn't her time and it sure wasn't her place. I only ever saw her down at Quackajack Pond, not out here near the river. But I only noted the strangest thing about her sudden appearance when she stumbled out of the vehicle: she was alone.
She looked like a real mess and no fancy clothes could hide that fact. Oh, I sure noticed that now she wasn't wearing any of that tacky much-revealing attire she'd normally put on – and take off pretty quick too. This time, she wore a simple black dress. It would've made her look classy, if it weren't for the rest of her. Her eyes were little swollen red slits and it seemed like a bunch of Carolina wrens had been nesting in her hair. The smell of fear surrounding her was thick enough to choke on. For once, there was no mosquito to beset her. After they smelled her, all of them remembered they had something better to do, somewhere way else.
She staggered up to the river and squated down unceremonously. She hid her head in her hands. I flew up to a bush right near the water's edge, but somehow, she was so lost in thought she didn't even see me. She shifted position, sinking down on the ground all together. 'Pentecost, you stubborn, stubborn man,' she said, scooping some water over her face. Red was spattered all over her arms and chest, but I wasn't close enough to make out its origin. Ever so careful I tried to wriggle my way closer to her. She sighed. 'It wasn't supposed to be like this.' She let the water caress her hand. I didn't find out if she said or did anything more, because on my way over I seemed to have located myself in hoppergrass-paradise and I was hardpressed to keep focussed on the situation at hand. If she'd up and left then, without much further ado, I'd have a different tale to tell. Probably one featuring more bugs and less car. But the thing is, she looked at me – actually saw me, while I was trying to swallow me a whole hoppergras. She'd picked up a rock. 'This will do, right?' she asked me. My beak fell open and one very happy hoppergras saw his prayes answered. She weighed the stone in her hand and nodded.
Previous parts:
Birds-eye, part 1
Birds-eye, part 2
Birds-eye, part 3
Geen opmerkingen:
Een reactie posten