Moon Desert
Bio
UK-based
BA in Cultural Studies
Crime Fiction: Love
Poetry: Friend
Psychology: Salvation
Where the wild roses grow full of words...
Stories (945)
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Magical Roman Barn in The Marigold Field
For several days I’ve been wandering wearily through the fields and still don’t know where I come from, where I am, and where I am going… I’m going straight ahead; my closest friends are wheat, rye, barley, oats… Marmots, mice, moles, grasshoppers… Poppies, cornflowers, bluebells, Lychnis viscaria… Herbarium and menagerie have always been my strengths. The images in front of my wide-open eyelids grind like grain in a combine. I wouldn’t dare to count them all. They’re constantly changing, I would never keep up with their directions that tempt with colours, smells, textures, viscosities… Sparrows storm the air with the frequency of the wind over the river. I passed one scarecrow which made me laugh as the crows couldn’t hide their audacity and perched on it like hens in a coop. Sparrowhawks and goshawks put in their two pennyworths to this masquerade, circling my head as if they were going to grab my hat to enrich their field collection. My footsteps are as regular as the ticking of a second hand of a clock trailing the traces of time. My knapsack is filled with random goods provided by a saleswoman from a local village bakery in the morning: brioche, yoghurt, milk, honey… Since I don’t possess any money, she gave it to me for free. She offered sweets as well, there were so many on the store shelves, yet I don’t know that stuff. She said that was probably why I never needed a dentist. I don’t even know who that person is. Some doctor, I guess.
By Moon Desert5 years ago in Fiction
