Day 203 – Stars – Where It Ends

“It’s so beautiful, you need to come an look!” She yells from the balcony.

“In a minute! It’ll go to an commercial soon,” he yells back.

“But you’re going to miss it,” she says, looking back up into the sky, her eyes wide with wonderment, her mouth, smiling, as she watches them dance. “Hurry up!”

“Okay, I’m coming,” He yells, as he storms through the kitchen, and out on to the balcony. “Is this it?” He says, looking up into the sky. “Is this seriously what you interrupted Letterman for? These things again? Really? Aren’t you tired of them at all?”

“Isn’t it beautiful?”

“It’s the same as it was last night, and the night before that.”

“Don’t be a stick in the mud,” she says with a giggle.

“I’m not being a stick in the mud, I’m just saying, it’s been like this for weeks, sure it was AMAZING the first night, mildly interesting the second night, since then, I just wish it would be over and we could get back to normal.”

She smacks him across the chest wish a limp arm, “Come on Harold, look at them, dancing around, all the pretty colors, a spark here, a pop there, glowing, doesn’t it make you feel whole?” She says, placing her hands over her heart, and smiling.

“They’re fucking each other, literally, mating, in full view of the entire planet, not a shred of dignity at in, any of them, and you think it’s pretty? The last time you said I looked pretty while I was making love to you was… Well, was never.”

“Don’t be a shred honey,” she says, looking at him with surprise. “I never took you for the type who cared for things like that, not with your wandering hands anyway.”

“Hey, what you do in the privacy of your own bedroom, is your business. But, to do it out in the open, and what, fly a few million light years to do it, in front of an audience, that’s an exhibition, not making love, it’s fucked, that’s what it is.”

“Well, I haven’t heard you complaining at night when we’re doing it.”

“What? You’re saying it’s because of those fucking things?”

“When was the last time we didn’t do it?”

He stands there for a few moments, as his mind ticks over, then, smiles, and looks up at the sky, placing a hand on his wife’s shoulder, “Isn’t it wonderful?” he says.

 

END

Published by

Matthew Tonks

People are surprised when reading Matthew’s stories that he’s a sane forty something year old, happily married, father of one, employed full time and dream of dark disturbing things that any sane person would never even contemplate thinking of. But it's true, he’s toyed with writing for most of his adult life, but has always found the peg a writer must fit into is not the shape he wished to be. His writing can be described as lamenting, long, concussive (yes it smashes you in the head), compulsive, and stuffed with rhythmic communication and violence, let’s not forget the violence. His own opinion on his writing is this, “You see, I don't just want the words to seep into your mind, but into your soul, showing you images of blood and beauty through, volatile language, violence, sex, love and sin. My muse takes different shapes, and every now and then you can see her shining her wicked smile in some of my stories, tempting you with her promises, but ripping your heart out instead.” So have a look, and take a seat in my wayward ride, as you join me while I purge through, this twisted road of madness.

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