Moving Clocks Run Slow.

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 Hey guys! 

This is the first installment of a series of short stories I intend sharing on here. The character's name is Addison and she honestly is one of the most emblematic characters I've ever written. Not to beat a dead horse; my consistence on sharing the stories totally depends on how well received it is. Her journey is sad but inspiring and hopelessly beautiful. 

MOVING CLOCKS RUN SLOW.

The morning broke with the wind which made the doors downstairs rattle like snare drums; Ashley was still sleeping on her bed, her legs crawled up to her tummy and her hands tucked in between her laps. The drapes in the room were swirling like the rage of the ocean. The room had a soft, light lavender color with white furniture. It wasn't so big, yet it made an average room look bigger. The bed was made of white fine wood and had three shelves underneath, also with a soft, lavender colored flower bedding- matching the flower imprint on the whole bed. Beside it was a nightstand with a pink rose in a vase. He gave her that rose flower on that summer morning; she waking up in his office shirt that went down to her knees and him backing the sun with his chiseled physique.

"Good morning sunshine" he had said hurriedly before kissing her forehead. 

"Aww, you didn't have to". Her cheeks flushed.

"I have to run out immediately." He ignored her dramatic reaction to the flower because he knew she had already seen it at the back of his car. He took off his boxer shorts and headed for the shower.

Addison rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands and soon thought of rushing down to make him pancakes. Her hair was in a messy loose bun and only two buttons in the shirt was done. She looked into the mirror shortly, greased her palms with her saliva and ran it over her hair. She needed to be perect even when he wasn't paying attention.

"Are you going to join me? He yelled.

 "I wouldn't say no to that for the rest of my life'

She smiled. She wanted this everyday; to feel the stickiness of his tongue in her mouth each morning and to scrub his legs as they soaked into a bathtub. She wanted him at all times, everywhere, and it wasn't just him she wanted; she felt like she needed his soul to align with hers, that without that, she would need to breathe into a bag. It was in all the little things she did; how she would hold his hands as they shopped through the aisles of Shoprite and get her mother to send him hand written notes when she visited. It was Addison that would pick out the fleck of dust that settled on his hair even as the pastor preached during church service. It was every time she needed him; everywhere, at the heave of her chest to her lungs. And during the day at work, she would look out of her office window into the city and think of him. She would call him when that happens and sometimes he tells her that he was about to call her and they would smile hard at each other without knowing. Somehow this made Addison feel important; a two minute call from him during lunch; a text message of a joke they shared recently; and the times when he showed up to her office unannounced. She felt special and was convinced that he needed her also. All she wanted was to be like the air that he breathes in that moment when they shared a kiss. She wanted to be that unnoticed but at the same time, that necessary. And each night he was not by her side, she would trundle from one edge of the bed to another and fondle her pillow till the sounds of Elton John drove her to sleep. As day was to night; Addison was sure of a life time with him. She needed him.

In front of the vase was a picture of Addison when she was younger. In it she was sitting on a carpeted floor, smiling happily. She smiled with her younger self. She hadn’t changed much; she realized. She still had the baby looking small face, her almost black-brown eyes matched perfectly with her light skin which was darker than an olive skin. She sighed and dropped the frame face flat and walked away.

Addison walked towards the balcony, her feet heavy from last night. Her body ached; it felt like she was walking on hot coal and shattered glasses. She didn’t make any noise as she moved across, lifting the door higher as she opened it to avoid waking Ashley. Outside the wind blew harder, It flowed around trees like mud oozing between toes. It blew like a wild beast tangled in a net; hissed and roared like dragons. A gap under the corrugated roof above wailed like a flute. The clock ticked forcefully, as if trying to break its cover. Everywhere was quiet for a few seconds and then Addison began to feel the coldness of the bare marble floor run up her spine. Her head was spinning. A blast of arctic air speared through her silk night dress and prickled along her skin; sinking down to her very bones. She was expecting the phone to ring and she was afraid of what she was going to hear. It wasn't like Addison didn’t know what to expect; she knew it too well and that was all there was to frighten her. 

Addison held unto the rails of the balcony, somehow she didn’t feel its coldness or its rust. Her gaze was lost south; her oval face thrown up into the air that the scratch from last night was visible. The red lines that turned her yellow skin into a pale pink was soothed by the fresh, mystic breeze. She thought about the soft warmness that embellished his eyes and made it feel like a safe haven; a magical, forbidden temple of all her dreams and fears. She didn’t hear the little chants from Ashley; she didn’t hear the faint footsteps also. She was busy looking at the clouds, wondering what it was that made God so mad.

“Ad, there are people downstairs. They’re asking to see you”

Addison turned around; gripping firmly to the rails like she swallowed her heart at the sound of Ashley’s voice. She was staring at her little sister, knowing fully well that the people downstairs, the people that came in this boisterous wind; this hostile, gusty and puissant wind, were the police.

“I didn’t hear you come in Ash. Who are they?” She said and cleared her throat. “They want to see me? Really?”

“Yes. I didn’t let them in of course but apparently they’ve been down a while”

“How many of them?

“Umm, I think about 4?

“4?” Her eyes widening as quickly as her mouth went wide open.

“You are scaring me sis. Should I phone mum?" Ashley sounded worried.

“No. We better hurry up and find out what they want”

The stairs on the stairway felt longer for Addison as she walked down with a fold of her flowing beige nightdress under her arm. The air in the living room was thick. It was like the windows haven’t been opened for days. Addison felt like she would asphyxiate.

“Get the windows while I go talk to them” She said to Ashley and watched her back turn. Ashley was taller than her even though she was older with four years. Her legs were thinner and her waist was slim and proportional to her buttocks. She was every man's dream.

The door knob felt cold as Addison reached out for it.

“Good day madam. I believe this is Flat F?” Said the fat man on uniform. He was black and from all indications, extremely comfortable in it.

“Yes. How may I help you?. Addison asked; trying so hard not to wet her pants. His face was flat and he had long, deep tribal marks.

“Great. Are you Miss Addison Pierce?”

“Yes, this is she. Once again how may I….”

“We are here concerning the murder of Mr Denise Igbokwe. We believe you know him?” The female police officer with dreads cut her short. “He was found dead in his car and while our men cleared out the car, we found this”

She was holding a piece of Addison Pierce MD’s business card which had blood stains on it. She held it up in the air and even as Addison tried to squint to get a firm glimpse of it; she knew she didn’t have to. She knew she didn’t need to. She knew her card well enough and she was staring at it, somehow wishing the grounds could open and swallow her.

“Oh my God. He is what?” She said and covered her mouth in sobs.

In that brief moment, she still thought of him. She wouldn't be able to give him all the love she could hold in her soul; she felt that all the love withering inside will aggrieve her entire being; that they will howl around like little devils, and while some will tug at her eyes, others will pierce her heart into stringent pieces.

The other officer that had toothpick in his mouth walked over to Addison as she leaned on the cold steer door. He had his head shaven and his sleeves were rolled up.

“Madam, we will like you to follow us to the station regarding this case as this is the only evidence we have”

“Can I see..”

“An I.D?" The officer chuckled as he dipped his hands into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “We are not here to stain your rugs madam. Sergeant Okoro from the Obalende police station”

Addison genuinely tried to read the card. The words were merging with words and she somehow couldn’t blurt out any more questions. She was so on edge that she could feel the blood flowing in her palms.  Nothing tickled her laps. She hadn’t wet herself yet and she couldn’t believe why.

“Are you arresting her?” Ashley questioned, holding a glass of water. Addison turned back to look at her before running into her arms. The living room didn’t feel so choked up again, they were breathing normally.

The police men were getting impatient; the female officer and the fat dark man were already talking in low voices. The other officer who hadn’t said a word left to receive a call, while the officer with tooth pick still in his mouth joined the others as they all talked in low tones; sounding like ants licking on sugar.

“We are not arresting her. We just have a few questions for her” said the female officer.

“Can I come?

“Ashley.." Addison exclaimed

“What? They’re taking you to the station and you want me to be at home watching TV? I’m not leaving you alone. No way in hell” Ashley yelled.

“I’m sorry, you can come. But we don’t have all day to waste. We are leaving this minute. “The female officer insisted.

“I’d grab my purse”

The wind had stopped by the time they were leaving their apartment in Parkview and Addison knew too well that the wild caged beast had been let out and all the dragons were racing after her. 


Copyright © 2013 Keside Anosike. All Rights Reserved.

SONG BENEATH THE SONG.

This segment is overloaded. Often times people say a song is depressing just because it's quiet and this literally gets under my skin, lol. I mean, some of the most uplifting songs ever are quiet piano ballads. I find 'jolly happy-go-lucky pop music' more depressing because it seems so shallow and soulless, don't you think so?

 I've been listening to a lot of new stuff but for a change, I'm sharing the songs I worked with while writing this. Would be fun to try that out now, wouldn't it? 

1, James Vincent McMorrow - Wicked Games.

2, James Vincent McMorrow- Down The Burning Rope.

3, Griffin House- Waterfall.

 4, Zola Jesus- Skin