. : F o r w a r d : .
"NOW, YOU LISTEN TO ME, WOMAN..." A shaken fist, a quivering lip.
"No...NO, YOU LISTEN TO ME! I'M THROUGH WITH YOU AND I'M THROUGH WITH YOUR ABUSE! I'M LEAVING. I'VE HAD ENOUGH!" A defiant pink silhouette rises into the dim, swaying ceiling light.
Sheets of rain pelt the window, and distant lightning pulses through drawn curtains. All else was dark.
A sharp sound severs the lingering silence.
A soft thud follows. A weak rasp of breath.
Rosy wings draw over a bruised cheek, eyes gleam without fear.
Heavy, booted footsteps approach the fallen figure. "Yer stayin' here, I already decided fer you. You best be thankin' me...I just made yer life a whole lot easier. But DON'T MAKE ME TELL YOU AGAIN."
. : P r o l o g u e : .
"The pain in my face had disoriented me, his voice muffled through my stinging ear. Out of the corner of my eye I saw his hand flash towards the 8-gauge. I couldn't let myself lose to him again--not now, not ever again. All within an instant, my pulse peaked, my wing swept around me for anything tangible, I ripped a loose board from the floor and followed through.
I barely heard his piercing scream over my own blood rushing through my ears.
Upon inspection, his bill was pocked with punctures from the rusty nails on the bottom of the board. His lip still quivered now and again with each weak breath. Even now, in my position of power, I could sense his--still greater; compared to his past this was but a scratch.
He was far from dead.
I stood up, despite the pain in my side from falling, and took advantage of my triumph by fishing through his chest at the other end of the room. At its nadir—below the loose, false one—I discovered his gruesome treasure, boxed and wrapped in blood-red velvet. I grabbed his old coat from its rusted nail on the wall and draped it over my shaking shoulders. His scent wafted around me, a lingering reminder. I tucked It away, safe against my violently thumping breast.
Re-crossing the room, I stepped gingerly over his body. The storm door creaked proudly as I opened it, as if congratulating me. Mist from the rain glistened on my feathers as I looked over my shoulder one last time. The small diamond on my middle feather also caught light; I removed it apathetically and laid it in his open hand.
I certainly wouldn't let him forget that I trumped him when he woke. So, for good measure, I tied both his bootlaces together in a single bow.
After I was sure I had left my mark, I turned my back to him, to my house, to my town and all my life there as I walked through that doorway for the last time. I took the next train out, and I ended up here."
--
Phyllis stared off into the distance, her pink feathers rhythmically tapping her glossy, red coffee mug. In a faint voice, she added solidly, "I never looked back."
"Wow. That's groovy." The white beagle noted after an eternal pause.
The indie artist Totakeke--better known as K.K. Slider--and the nighttime postal worker Phyllis were passing time at the train station. K.K. was seated on his usual throne, an orange box, and Phyllis was leaning on the pillar to the left of the steps, profile to him.
"You're following your own path, man. I like that."
Phylis just nodded. Her face remained stoic.
"So, why do you travel?" She asked him at last. Her voice was soft, yet curious.
K.K. shifted his weight, as if her question was a splinter in the lid of his box. "I just...like...never felt good staying in one place, man. The grind of daily life dragged me down. My music always carried me off to new places, seeking to gain and give inspir--."
DONG—DONG—DONG—The bell chimed 11 times.
K.K.'s voice was harshly overpowered by the town bell, which hung directly above him. Phyllis sighed.
Eleven o'clock. Time for work.
"Oh, how the bell tolls." The pink pelican sighed, standing upright and leaving the warmed stone
column.
"But for whom does the bell toll, man?" K.K. added, almost smartly.
"We'll never know." Phyllis' usual persona had returned. She turned her back to him, sighing and sipping her coffee. Its steam danced around her bill rather pleasantly.
But, that night, it tolled for me.
As she headed off, just before he was out of earshot, Phyllis heard K.K. say, "See you next week."
And in her mind she counted the time until next Saturday.
She stopped briefly, only to wave (though still with her back turned) and say, "It's a date."