Not Anymore Alive

Kiara Hawking

Description

A poetic journey through short stories about high mountains, the inner occultism within us.

Our lives today struggle between love and loneliness. I think we will defend love until death. Because love is similar to death when it ends.

Sujets

• Poetry

Informations

• Publié par: eBookIt.com
• Date de parution: 11 février 2021
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781456636883
• Langue: English

Extrait

Not Anymore Alive
--------
by
Kiara Hawking
February 2021
Table of Contents
Title Page
Vivre
Anatomy
No Mercy
The Final Letter
Vivre

T he engineer, an old man and a magician like her, always said that this time it would be the last for Wusley. The petrol cans needed to be changed and the gear clutch rattled. As for the steering wheel rims, they were ready to cut. But somehow he managed every time to make the old thing work. "But I'm not sure if he can make such a long journey," he told Mary, wiping the wrench with a swab. "Maria and I and Gusley ate our bread, do not look at you as you rejuvenate," he told her as usual. teasing. Mary looked at him and smiled with difficulty. Mary was always smiling, whatever she was in front of life she had learned to smile. That's how her mother had learned her. We live in the city she said, we are nothing villagers to show feelings. So even now, she smiled at Mr. Elias, paid the bittersweet bill without protest, and put Gusley on the road with difficulty, cursing her luck for the long journey that awaited her.
Going out on the boulevard, she felt Gusley creaking under her feet but she believed that the old caravan was able, like her, despite her age to complete the journey. She opened the window, letting the horrible heat of the sun rush into the car and lit a cigarette, dangerously balancing between driving, her butt already sweating and her need to take her first breath. She closed her eyes for a moment and let the smoke enter her lungs for half a second. Sublime. After all, she had smoked her first cigarette in this Gusley. August, hot summer in the village, noon. Time seemed to have stopped. The heat was so dense and unbearable that you could cut it with a knife, the earth from the fire was steaming, the stones were burning in the dry river, the cicadas were dancing crazy in the yellow fields and she was the only creature in the whole village , chimney at twelve, who does not sleep. She and Andrew. He had waited for Dad to fall asleep to steal his cigarettes and smoke them in the new Wusley but he had counted without the widow's little son. "What are you doing there?" He said laughing when he saw her slip away like a snake
Wusley half-open window. He quickly followed her to the cab of the creaking car. First cigarette and first kiss. She has had these things in her mind ever since.
The horn and the voices of the young driver behind her brought her back to reality. He always forgot and confused the driving lanes, the old thing that did not catch more than 90 km had to remain systematically on the left lane while it was constantly forgotten and entered the expressway.