I have fallen…
Burnt is different for everyone. Fiction
I vividly recall my slow motion descent
down, down, down.
Moments flash by
fear arrives, then subsides
all in the matter of an instant.
I see the ground,
see it coming,
feel gravity’s pull.
A quick breath,
the tension rises in my frame,
colors blur, blood rushes to my head.
My world crumbles before me,
once a pillar of strength,
I brace for an onslaught of potential pain.
My question is this?
Who left the hose pulled across the walk near the back door steps?
The homemade sausages I so carefully scorched,
now lay strewn, like fallen carcasses on a battlefield.
My Saturday has been altered.
I peak from my momentary darkness
stirring to the wet nudge of a dog’s nose.
Opening my eyes,
the carnage is revealed, horror steeps into my being.
I try to rise, feverishly attempting to fend off the pack.
I am too late,
they have taken the spoils.
Circling me, they lick their chops, dripping in satisfaction.
I moan in despair.
The opportunists have departed,
stolen the birthday dinner, quick as that.
I roll to the left,
still grasping the spatula in my hand, I flail it ferociously,
the one last little mutt but he scurries away,
a plump prize warbling in his muzzle.
I sit up, dejected, if not to say more.
Sullen and broken,
I see hope.
Is it true?
There, next to my belly,
one last meat tube of goodness.
It has been saved by chance.
Protected by the Gods,
well, by a fold in my apron.
It is a miracle.
I reach down and grab it.
Admiring the perfect burntness.
It still retains its warm exterior.
I look side to side, guarding it against any stragglers.
Blades of grass adhere to its moistness.
I swipe them away, nothing will stop me.
I am alone now, sitting there wishing for mustard.
I bite down on the morsel, juice drips down my chin.
One of the scavengers returns,
I wield my instrument against its foray.
It is delicious,
a savory delicacy, I relish in its natural flavor.
I roll up a smile for a brief second.
The screaming begins… She sees…
What have you done now? You have ruined the party!
I have failed, I have fallen.. I own the walk of shame today.
I rise, now surrounded by the peanut gallery,
my half eaten prize still in my hand, my head falls,
I slip away into the shadows.
Opening the freezer, the harsh glare of the open bulb obscures my view.
In the corner behind a frost bitten bag of mixed veggies,
It gleams, I see it, the edge of the package.
I have been saved, my vacuum sealed poultice of tubed meat held high, redemption is mine.
Retracing my steps, steering clear of the menacing hose,
I carefully sear the emulsified sticks of goodness.
Stack them on a tray with freshly burnt buns and deliver them to the hungry.
Failure is not an option today,
especially on this September Saturday.
Surrounded by a grip of feasting adolescent boys, I relish in the Silence.
