The door opened quickly and violently, as if someone was breaking in, but Maddie knew otherwise. Brandon stumbled in, hiccupping as he went, closing the door behind him, fiddling with the keys in his hand before sighing angrily and waving at the door, as if the air would lock it for him. Drunkenly, he turned, swaying heavily, his arms swinging around him like vines around a tree. As their eyes met he stopped, in his drunken state assuming she hadn’t seen him. Her glare was fixed and arms folded. She was wearing what she did every night, a long grey nightie, one she had worn since their wedding, ‘easy access’ she had called it. But now her face wasn’t the same as that night, it was stern and furious with flared nostrils and wide eyes.
“Where have you been?” Maddie demanded, quoting almost every wife whose husband had come home inexplicably drunk.
“Out,” Brandon said quickly, trying his best to hide his slurs.
“Where?” she demanded again. He huffed at her.
“Out,” he repeated. This time, she huffed at him, taking a step closer. Now, Brandon could see the fury in her blue eyes and her withdrawn tongue as she held back her shouts.
“You better have a bloody good reason,” she seething, breathing heavily through her teeth. Brendon huffed at her again, pushing aside her anger clearly written across her face.
“Did you miss me?” he teased, still swaying, his arms dangerously close to the framed pictures on the table beside him. Maddie recoiled slightly, her anger slowly fading into sorrow, tears building in her eyes. She bit her lip and sucked in cool air before looking back at him.
“Yes, I did,” she said. Brandon jolted back slightly at the sincere, contained answer, swinging himself steady again. “Because while you were off galivanting around town with your friends, I was here, tucking our daughter into bed. And as I am doing that, my phone rings. I have to stop saying goodnight to her to answer it. It was from my father…” she hesitated, breathing in sharply again but her eyes never left his. “My mother died.” She finished. Even through his drunken vision, Brendon could see Maddie’s eyes well up again, more tears falling down her face. He brought a hand forward to pull her closer but she stepped back, lightly pushing his hand to the side and he let it fall, confusion spreading across his face. She took in another deep breath. “This is how it’s been since the beginning. You go out, get drunk, come home late and I'm already asleep and I find you passed out on the sofa. Thought it was funny and cute to begin with, but then it got boring and annoying. But then, you stopped, cleaned up your act, but, since last week, you’ve been sneaking out to drink, leaving me alone. And not only that, but alone with your infant daughter.” Once she had finished, Brendon had started to cry, the warm tears gently falling down his face, creating a river as they meandered down where the wrinkles of smiles used to form.
“Maddie, I,” he started.
“No,” she interjected, her voice stern again. “I have lost my mother, your daughter has lost her grandmother, a woman she will never remember. I lost someone and the only person I could talk to was our daughter, who was confused about why I was crying in the first place! I don’t want her Christmas ruined with the memory of her grandmother’s death! And you weren’t here for me, or for her. I don’t feel like I can rely on you anymore.” Brendon opened his mouth but she barged past him, heading for the stairs.
“Maddie, please I’m…” he tried, but she didn’t turn. As she reached the stairs she stopped, her back still to him.
“I'm taking Rachel to my brother’s tomorrow,” she said after a moment, her voice warbled with tears, holding back the urge to run to him. “We can talk more after that.” With no further words, and ignoring Brendon’s wails and desperate calls, Maddie walked up the stairs and to their bedroom, where she didn’t sleep.
Day 1
Closed Eyes
Closed Eyes
Deafening
Deafening
Closed Eyes
Day 15
E s t 2 0 2 0
Published: November 20th 2021
The Rocks
The Inanimates
Two rocks sit at the top of a hill, separated by a few centimetres of grass. One is shorter than the other.
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“What’s that whistling?” One asked.
“The wind,” said the other.
“But we’re not at the beach,” One said.
“Wind is everywhere,” the other replied.
“Will there always be wind?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because life goes on.”
“Does our life go on?”
“Yes.”
“So when will we die?”
“I don’t know.”
“Will we die?”
“Most likely.” One made a noise. The other could tell it was thinking.
“Will you die first?” One asked.
“I don’t know,” the other replied.
“But it’s more likely?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, you must know something.” The other sighed heavily. One knew that it had gone too far.
“What is it with this onslaught of questions?” The other said. One didn’t know what to say.
“I'm not sure,” One said. “I just felt like there was a lot I didn’t know and I wanted to know.”
“Well, it isn’t good to know everything,” the other said back, its tone gruffer than before.
“But you know everything,” One snapped back.
“That’s because I'm old.”
“So eventually I’ll know as much as you?”
“Perhaps.”
“But I want to know everything now.”
“You can't rush time.” One sighed. The other felt a small wave of relief. Maybe it would be quiet.
“Why can't I?” One said loudly. The other groaned. It would roll its eyes if it had eyes do to so with.
“Because that isn’t how time works.”
“How does time work?”
“I don’t know.”
“So how do you–”
“I just do,” the other interrupted. “And you can't just decide that that is what you want to do.”
“But I–”
“Many things happen over time.”
“Of course, but I just want to–”
“Things happen across many lifetimes, a lot of it bad and terrible.” The atmosphere became tense.
“What kind of bad things?” One asked after a moment. The other took a moment to search its memories. So much.
“Wars,” the other murmured. “Death and war. Men who think that can control lands that aren’t theirs. Lands that are only worth as much as the people who want them say they are. The people are taken as well. Taken away from their homes, from their families, their identities. They will have to fight when they get to their new lands. Not for their freedom, not for a home or job, but to survive. To survive in a land that others are already surviving in. People betrayed One another, gave promises they never intended to keep. And to break those promises, others were killed or slaughtered for their gain.” The other didn’t stop for a breath, its memories and thoughts spilling from its head. One could just sit there and listen.
“All that’s happened?” One asked.
“All of it. Again and again,” the other replied slowly. Its gaze was pointed out over the other hills.
“But there’s gotta be some good,” One said. “Something good had to happen.” The other sighed and searched its head.
“Perhaps,” the other muttered. “I guess there’s some stuff. When tragedy hits, people rally. Thousands come together to fight for one thing. A giant, united front. If someone dies unjustly, people fight for their freedom. They sign petitions, hold protests and fight for the change necessary. They fight for a better world because they know that it will be safer for all. That their future generations will benefit from their actions.” One remained quiet, the information slowly sinking into its mind.
“And that’s what’s out there?” One asked. The other gave a grunt of a reply. “And that’s all I need to know?”
“You'll learn more with time,” the other said slowly, trying to force the memories back into its head.
“And time is slow,” One murmured. “I’ll have to wait.” If it could have, the other would have nodded. “I can't wait.”
Silence fell around them as the atmosphere softened and the sound of the whistling returned, the grass beneath them gently swaying in the breeze in time with the trees. The clouds overhead stretched into the distance, circling themselves in pinks and yellows and blues, creating a tapestry of colour in the sky. Despite it not having a smile, One could feel itself doing so.
​
Two rocks sit at the top of a hill, separated by a few centimetres of grass. Together, they watch. Together, they wait.
​