Clockwork eggs (1989)

When men were laying eggs the race started. It never quite ended, for there is no end. One was saying he didn’t care to know; the moment was important, not history. So he sat on the train seat and spat with disdainful nonchalanche, by the suitcase on the floor. The landscape was changing beyond the greasy stained windows, and the rain falling down.
The suitcase broke open and a big old fashioned alarm clock escaped clumsily running along the corridor, throwing the passengers in panic and horror. The alarm clock’s bell rang loudly, immediately stopped by a lady’s hand. The clock jammed -7a.m.- and the rain was falling.
The train missed the next stop. waving hands saluted its going by, among umbrellas and flying hats.
When our children were drowned no one came but a letter of the neighbours complaining for the screams. The soap must go on. Excuse me the digression into private matters. It is easy to forget that private is not allowed.
The lady with the bold doll had sat still ’till then, staring out of the window, prying into the striped darkness of the rainy dawn; she slowly turned her gaze onto us. The gaze of a doll in its turn. “watch out for your language” she said in a whisper, with a tick of her stiff lips.
The stillness of her features betrayed her being of an emotional kind. While passing yet another station without even slowing down, the train emitted a suffering, long whistle.
- we’re goin’we’re goin’ – it seemed to say to the astonished crowd.
- we’re goin’we’re goin’ – we all said in melancholy tunes, one weeping, one dangling, one singing on the train, in the rain.
The clock was still there, sadly abandoned in a corner, its arms one up, one down, at 7 a.m.
It was laying at an angle, against a seat, when the train suddenly slowed down, the clock rolled along the corridor among the passengers’ feet who, by then, were dancing a passionate tango.
When the train stopped, with people falling about, grasping handles and seats and each other, the poor clock crushed against the compartment’s door, three eggs popped out of its broken body and rolled about in slow motion.
A moment of suspense, then the eggs burst obliterating the scene.

Post a Comment

Your email is never published nor shared. Required fields are marked *

Better Tag Cloud