"Move over!" she said. "I want to get all the houses," she said. She was filming us with her little handheld camera. The summer was here, and we wanted everything documented, viewable. "There it is, there! Fine."1
"Ok," I said, but I could still see part of my head in the corner of the viewfinder. She didn't notice, and he was holding my hips; I didn't want to move.2
"That's cute," he whispered into my ear, and looked at her.3
"Ok, there," she said; "that was good. So why don't you- why don't you give some commentary, some symbolism, and that can start us off."4
"So the catacombs," I said, and she focused in on my face.5
*6
We were sitting under the wooden play area in the park, and it was getting darker.7
"God dammit," he said. "Where's the night vision?"8
"Here, give it to me."9
"Ok."10
"Ok!" she said as she pushed the button and they switched places. He scooted over to me. Nobody ever let me film. "Alright. So, do... something."11
"Like what?" he said suggestively.12
"Not that."13
"Fine."14
"Can you get the stars on that thing?" I asked.15
"Um... I dunno."16
"We should try."17
"Ok. Let's see..."18
"We might want to move out into the open," I said.19
"Shut up."20
"Don't move," he said into my hair as we watched her crawl out and stand up, stretching her legs.21
"But I wanna see if it works."22
"Please," he said, and put his head on my arm. "Just for a minute."23
Author notes
I found this in the 'draft' section of my email account. I wrote it once while bored in computer apps last year. Interesting little bit, I think. No plot, but oh well.
What did you think? Please comment!
Comments
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Oh this is all very poised. You can write, which is as rare as a zizel with a nut allergy, so you must continue, and dance us on into this tale. You write dialogue with an absolutely perfect lemon-zingy tone.
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But it's all there. A trembing, beautiful prose-poem.
And "Not that." was funny.
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