View Single Post
Old 09-27-2009, 12:31 PM   #1
Kevin Gerard
Kevin Gerard
Kevin Gerard ought to be getting tired of karma fortunes by now.Kevin Gerard ought to be getting tired of karma fortunes by now.Kevin Gerard ought to be getting tired of karma fortunes by now.Kevin Gerard ought to be getting tired of karma fortunes by now.Kevin Gerard ought to be getting tired of karma fortunes by now.Kevin Gerard ought to be getting tired of karma fortunes by now.Kevin Gerard ought to be getting tired of karma fortunes by now.Kevin Gerard ought to be getting tired of karma fortunes by now.Kevin Gerard ought to be getting tired of karma fortunes by now.Kevin Gerard ought to be getting tired of karma fortunes by now.Kevin Gerard ought to be getting tired of karma fortunes by now.
 
Kevin Gerard's Avatar
 
Posts: 54
Karma: 499848
Join Date: Aug 2009
Location: San Diego
Device: none
Okay, okay, I'll put all the short stories in an e-book - here's another one...

Napping with Friends (written in Santa Barbara)
Kevin Gerard

The gentle sound of a classical concerto tickled my eardrum, dancing lightly through my hair like a miniature ballerina. Peering through half raised eyelids, I spied the soft, blue glow emanating from the pocket-sized personal stereo resting on the antique side table. It neither greeted me nor moved at all. Nothing seemed to move in this perfectly serene space. Not one item was misplaced; everything in this comfortable den cradled my body in tranquil, nurturing warmth.

Readjusting the throw pillows I had scrunched beneath my head, I smiled inwardly, recalling the one active mechanism lodged in the ceiling of the room. A light wind, alive and loving, caressed my body, massaging my spirit with waves of welcome comfort. I saw the blades of the fan in my mind’s eye, rotating above the couch, observing the room and its occupant. Constantly supervising but never intruding, it fulfilled its function without disturbing my serene slumber.

The plump but malleable pillows on the couch moved languidly, flexing and curling beneath my body. Like an old, loyal friend, the eight foot sofa massaged my limbs, cocooning me like a bank of cumulus high above the hushed waves of a deserted shoreline. If I stirred, the pillows moved with me. With my feet curled against my legs or splayed out over the distant armrest, the couch silently shifted, showing boundless patience while devouring my form again and again.

I peeked around the small sitting room, listening to a lively movement in the concerto. Enjoying an exceedingly rare moment of conscious bliss, I breathed ever so lightly. I dared not even blink my eyes for fear of disrupting the spiritual forces that had blessed me with this brief interlude. I inhaled, listened to, touched, tasted, and looked upon a spot of time I might not see again for another decade.

I began to assess the many facets of my present life, categorizing, rating, assigning an amount of concern to each item, and then suddenly stopped. A bird had flown down to a wooden bench on the deck outside. Through the paneled windows I heard her singing contentedly. Somehow meshing with the orchestra’s concerto, the innocent bird enjoyed the moment, unfettered by any sense of planning or deadline. Following the conductor, she warbled her beautiful melody, rising and falling with the pulse of the instruments.

The bond between the bird’s simple song and the orchestra’s composition carried my mind away from its deliberations. I listened, smiled, and then lifted my chin just enough to spy a glimpse of my winged friend. Through a glistening pane of glass, I gleefully watched the small diva deliver her aria. Wishing her a peaceful journey, I silently gave thanks for her visit. She finished her song, blinked her right eye once and disappeared into the bright, sunny day.

Slipping my right hand underneath the uneven stack of pillows, I tucked my chin into my chest. I let my eyelids fall as they would, obeying my body’s request for continued sleep. Simple thoughts floated though my semi-conscious mind – the peaceful concerto, the rotating fan, the visiting soloist, the comfortable couch, the atmosphere of the room.

I breathed slowly, evenly, feeling my body rise and fall with each relaxing transition. My mind drifted freely, unfettered by the slightest notion. I nodded off, listening to the fading concerto. Upon seeing my contented expression, the wispy ballerina danced lightly around my ear before vanishing into the orchestra’s final movement.
Kevin Gerard is offline   Reply With Quote