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With the whistling of the kettle, I tossed aside the pillow propped in my lap and hopped off the warm leather of my couch as if I’d sat on hot coal. Quickly unplugging the kettle, I emptied its scalding contents into my eager cup, already equipped with a teabag. I stood agape in the aromatic cloud of steam only momentarily before being snapped out of the trance by the sound of gunshots from the television. I raced back to my seat as the true crime show I’d been watching took up where it had left off before the commercial break.
Shaky-cam footage soaked in contrast and blur and filters abstractly portrayed a re-enactment man murdering his wife and child without really showing anything. It was the typical ‘family-friendly’ method of depiction that relies on simply suggesting the murder. I could swear they just run the same footage through different filters for every instalment of the program. Some footage of running feet here, a close up on an unsteady hand holding knife or a gun there, a quick shot of the killers eyes, another of a beautiful TV child crying and screaming in fear, his mother weakly trying to act the human shield for him. I see nothing but it portrays the loss of two actual human lives. It’s strange how things work.
I accidentally sipped at the warm mug in my hands a little too early, burning the tip of my tongue numb. Decidedly placing the cup back on the coffee table, I focus my eyes once more on the television. The show is about to wrap up: There’s some final footage of the killer’s confession, a narrator’s open ended musings about the nature of crime, and a last update on the criminal’s current status. On
I turned down the volume and let my head fall back onto the cushioning of the couch. Lazily, I squinted at the clock. . I’d usually be good for another couple of hours but I’d taken my sleeping meds a little early. Punching the rubbery off button on my remote with a jerky thumb-motion, I raised myself once more from the couch. Swaying a little, I lurched into the hall. Quickly realizing I’d forgotten my mug, I whipped around to snatch it. Tea ever so carefully balanced in hand, I continued floundering towards the stairs.
As I placed my first foot upon the steps, I heard the slightest muffled thumping from the upper floor. It felt strange to think that the thumping had been continuing all day and I simply hadn’t noticed, but the thumping continued, steady and slow. I cracked and fell prey to my usual nervous habit.
“Hello?” I called up the empty stairwell, louder than I’d intended. I flinched at the sound of my own voice despite myself.
No one responded of course. I figured I’d simply left a window open, allowing a door to be blown around in the breeze. Carefully balancing the cup in my hand, I hopped up the remainder of the stairs. Slowly opening the door to my room, I peak my head into the bare bedchamber. Thin curtains flapped by the tall window near the bed. Walking into the cold gust and closing the window, I looked for what was continuing to cause the resonating thumping. At a loss for an explanation, I let that harmless, thoughtless word slip from my lips once more.
do you believe in x
Tuesday October 14rd, 2008