I just wrote a story and it's real short and I'm going to post it here. It's kind of experimental, reminds me a little of my old Forever story. Not so much a narrative as a list of details. It may not be in final form, but the structure's there. Anyway, I'm calling it The Heartbeat, though I also like The Silence of the Sunrise as a possible title. I'll probably have a more regular post coming in the week ahead, since my life is ohhhhhh so interesting. But for now, here's this.

The Heartbeat

It’s the smell of dust, the specks floating in rays of light, rising off a couch. The drip drip drip of the water slowly running from the faucet. The millimeters the tap is away from closed. The sound of birds chirping, a tweet, a whirr, something like a horse braying in fast forward. The soft rustling of the trees as a breeze ever so gently rubs leaves together, heard through a window left slightly ajar in a moment of forgetfulness.
The way the heat rises from the floor, the wood melting in the afternoon, like water rippled from a fallen leaf. Drops of sweat forming on a forehead imperceptibly, dropping down the slope of the nose, hanging on for a moment before diving to a small but growing puddle. The faint whisper of breath taken slowly, a fragile hint of sound that may or may not exist. The way the clouds move across the sky, forming shapes, shades that block out the sun.
The way the grass feels on the back of the neck, the hair standing on end, the soft scratching. The way for a moment there are no cares. The soft breeze that cools the wet skin, gently moves the hair. The way when eyes are closed, everything feels so peaceful. It’s the sunburn, the pain, the fun of picking off the dry skin. The concerned family, the knowing smiles, the sly winks.
It’s the way a boy feels when a girl brushes against him. The first time lips touch, the electricity that passes between two bodies when for that one moment the world doesn’t exist. The beating of two hearts perfectly matched, skin on skin. The way it feels so safe in embrace.
It’s the tears that come when something ends. It’s the astonishment that comes when the tears dry up, that inability to sustain emotion. The way the world keeps turning. The beating of a heart that knows its time is running low.
The creaking of an old house still settling after all these years. The fear of lying awake at night not knowing what it is. The noise, the future, the reason for lying awake in the first place. The way the mind can’t be turned off. The song that won’t leave long enough for sheep to be counted. The realization that counting sheep doesn’t help.
It’s cold nights alone with no heat. It’s warm nights together under sheets. It’s standing on top of a mountain, yelling at the top of lungs. It’s whispering sweet nothings in a lover’s ear. It’s dancing alone knowing nobody’s watching. It’s tripping down the stairs in front of a full house.
That orange red color of the sunset contrasted against the light light blue of the fading sky. The crisp smell of the air that signifies the coming of night. Watching storm clouds slowly roll in over the mountains. The lightning jumping from cloud to cloud, from cloud to ground. The pitch black cloud of smoke drifting peacefully into the air. The way that peace always follows strife. Sitting on a porch rocking slowly back and forth, nothing to do but waste the night away.
The blurry vision of waking. The wonder of time and location. Nervous glances around the room. The patterns imagined on the ceiling. The dark spot on the wall. The same surroundings on a new day. The amazement and confusion that life goes by so fast.
The elation of love and the devastation of heartbreak. The way the heart feels when it finds a match. The way everything pales when a child is born. The way people change so much with age.
The regrets of promises broken, people hurt, friends forgotten. The wanting to try it again, to say something different, to not do that one thing wrong. The lying in bed that one night and realizing it’ll be over soon. Remembering everyone ever known. Wishing people didn’t have to change. Wishing people didn’t have to leave. Wishing people didn’t have to die.
The way life seems to move in slow motion for a while, then speeds up beyond recognition. The way years are forgotten. The way seconds are remembered.
The way night falls day after day.
The heartbeat.
The intense pain as the world slowly slips away.
The heartbeat.
The incredible release as the world slowly slips away.
The heartbeat.
The silence of the sunrise in a newly emptied room.