dimgray

Sorrowoods 6.9.2024

A timelapse of talking lamp posts on each side dashed past me as I cycled into the cerulean horizon. A creamy piggy floated across the face of the sun. Bump! My grandmother bicyle hit a rock on this gravel headed toward Ahpo's house. Every morning, I am supposed to fetch yesterday's newspaper from Ahma's sister in exchange for a hearty bowl of green peas soup laced with minced pork. Yum yum. 30km of sweat and toil. Six days you shall cycle and on the seventh day GOD-knows-what. And so that was how a hobbit shall live for the rest of his life. But I digress, into a muggle-could-never-see path hidden behind an ordinary bush. A bullfrog croaked in a distance. The crickets were especially quiet today. Somewhere in the still water of the surrounding swamp, a nefarious swamp Thing was emerging. Ahpo lived right at the edge of Sorrowoods. She must have witnessed a lot of strange things, or not. I wondered how she went about her days with cloudy eyeballs and managed to conjure up my favorite food. Ding-ding the old rusty Christmas bell hanging off the porch roof and a yellow wooden door reluctantly opened up.