No Cygnet for Sleep: 7
‘No Cygnet for Sleep’ contains strong language, sexual scenes, drug use, and gore.
No Such Thing as Serendipity
By Jivan Ward
Open eyes to Ané thong bottom. Too early for Saturday, I yawn, roll round to black and turn back. She dressed and she kiss cheek say, Sorry I have work, I’ll…around seven if…hang out tonight. Lips fresh lipstick smack against mine. Hands round waist I pull in. She knee on mattress laugh and I moan and smile to acceptance. We kiss and door click as she leave. Small gesture mean big thing. Her phone ring she loud say, Hi yes Sun I’m just leaving now, I’ll be there soon. Door slam, chain rattle. I up no way sleepy now. I up and roll hip to plant feet on carpet, cold tickle. Stretch yawn. Wander to kitchen find coffee pot half full and warm. Stomach folds and smile springs up gut neck to lips.
Remote’s odd. Button pattern like series of X’s. Kinda glad she gone now. Saturday ritual intact with solitude and coffee and news. I feel like furniture, Ané’s feel like home. Sometime I wonder if I like sponge soak in her insurmountable wage-slip with HD TV. Record, pause, rewind, play to dissipate to hungry stomach grumble, to skip to kitchen whistle through teeth and open cupboard to folds of foil crisps and nuts with raisins. Grab as many packets as possible and throw on table. Glass tap water bubble silent and glass clunk on table.
Advert reign. White teeth glisten in droves of unrelenting happy a world of no remorse. Just consumer buy-buy with stereotype guy and stereotype girl, hapless in aisle of multi-colour boxes, look like flamboyant maze. She come employee winning smile and preened stolid hand wave to couple smile and employee smile and they smile to saturate white, every little helps. Groan. Ceramic black-toned car drive round corner and skids in rain. Groan, gotta find remote. Avoid big blue X button. Can’t find menu menu-menu-where’s-the-menu? Press one with window picture and screen go black. Shit. Press big blue X. Screen go grey loading bar load and it 23% full and black space below blink and see me sit on couch. Hair like haystack, jeeze. Mumbled low growling slow rumble. Screech. I. Screech. Ear. Fall. Screech. Knees. Press. Button. Peace. Breathe in breathe. What. The. Fuck. Loading bar 24%. Stand up try no stumble. In darker shadow of TV stand see glowing blue. Walk to stand and kneel down, slip hand under black glass slat, and hold black box. Pick up to blue X across front disc drive side. Look like console-cum-television-box.
Xana say, Hello.
Jivan Ward was born and reared in London, where he learnt that there’s more to life than what surrounds you. Stumbling out of a tumultuous passion for music, into the corridors of libraries and the dank recesses of fiction, he began writing poetry and short stories before going to university to study the craft and art of writing. Tit led to tat and he works in retail and is currently writing a novel and running a blog. He believes the internet is a force of neutrality and that the publishing industry should invest more in its authors than its devices.
For more Information on this Series, Visit: No Cygnet for Sleep: An Introduction
To Follow the Entire Series, Visit: No Cygnet for Sleep: Jivan Ward