epiphany
05-19-2004, 09:05 PM
A Boy and His Brother
The icicles glimmered and shivered in the cold grasp of winter. The season's icy paws engulfed the town's abodes in soft powder. Small little chimneys of black and red jutted out and dwindled in the expanse of a clear blue sky. Storm clouds faded into the distance as a soft breeze exhales across the city. Children pressed their red noses against the frosted glass and looked through self made portholes cut out from the steamed glass.
Cherub smiles developed from their chapping lips. Mother says it's OK. Father says that the weatherman said that a warm front is coming. It's OK, we can play. But I get the fort on top of the hill!
A door swung out and a small pair of fire engine red boots tripped out of the doorway and onto the small porch. The child, capped with a matching red hood that was propped over his apple like head, regained his balance and threw his arms to his sides to even his weight. He inhaled and his rosy cheeks inflated until he burped the air out of his flapping lips. A gush of ghastly smoke dissipated into the frigid wind.
With arms on his hips he looked out at the low hanging sun. The white landscape below glittered with ethereal sparkles of a golden lake. The rays from the sun bent and pierced the ground like sharp arrows. The boy, majestic and shining upon the porch, soaked the world into his tear-joying green eyes.
Then, with the immediate displacement of solidity and splendor, he felt two strong arms wrap around his Eskimo jacket. His feet were raised off the floor and he floated for a moment with his neck sprawled awkwardly to the side. He watched as the snow neared his face. He kicked his legs and wriggled try to flip over, but to no avail. The arms were his brother's. Strong, fierce, and unrelenting. He sucked in a last breath of air before he hit the turf. His eyes locked shut.
The bite of the snow drained the blood from his face. He paled, feeling the tremendous weight of his fourteen year old brother weighing him down and stopping him from breathing. The snow wedged into his nose and mouth and he cried out with tears splurging onto the ground. He coughed and choked, desperately struggling for a normal breath.
His brother's hand presses onto the back of his head as the weight on him disappeared. The boy stood and gasped raspingly, his throat cracking against the fluid it had produced during his struggle.
“I cand' breathe! I cand!” He groaned with a red blushed face. He stared in revolt at the indomitable figure of his brother, “You coulda kill't me!”
His brother responded whimsically, “Did I?”
“Yea! You know you did!”
“Aren't you alive?” The older boy glanced at his brother's red face. “You're exaggerating.”
“Am not! Prove it!”
“Race you to the hill. If I win – I'm right.”
The little boy, knowing that his older brother always won, began sprinting toward the hill far down the road. His legs kicked up phantoms of white powder. His face turned plumb red from exhilaration and his red hood flopped wildly around.
He reached the hill and collapsed. “I beat you!” He called.
The older boy smiled at him as he walked up from the distance, “Yea. Yea you did. You run pretty fast for a kid I almost killed.”
The little boy groaned, realizing that he had lost once again.
The icicles glimmered and shivered in the cold grasp of winter. The season's icy paws engulfed the town's abodes in soft powder. Small little chimneys of black and red jutted out and dwindled in the expanse of a clear blue sky. Storm clouds faded into the distance as a soft breeze exhales across the city. Children pressed their red noses against the frosted glass and looked through self made portholes cut out from the steamed glass.
Cherub smiles developed from their chapping lips. Mother says it's OK. Father says that the weatherman said that a warm front is coming. It's OK, we can play. But I get the fort on top of the hill!
A door swung out and a small pair of fire engine red boots tripped out of the doorway and onto the small porch. The child, capped with a matching red hood that was propped over his apple like head, regained his balance and threw his arms to his sides to even his weight. He inhaled and his rosy cheeks inflated until he burped the air out of his flapping lips. A gush of ghastly smoke dissipated into the frigid wind.
With arms on his hips he looked out at the low hanging sun. The white landscape below glittered with ethereal sparkles of a golden lake. The rays from the sun bent and pierced the ground like sharp arrows. The boy, majestic and shining upon the porch, soaked the world into his tear-joying green eyes.
Then, with the immediate displacement of solidity and splendor, he felt two strong arms wrap around his Eskimo jacket. His feet were raised off the floor and he floated for a moment with his neck sprawled awkwardly to the side. He watched as the snow neared his face. He kicked his legs and wriggled try to flip over, but to no avail. The arms were his brother's. Strong, fierce, and unrelenting. He sucked in a last breath of air before he hit the turf. His eyes locked shut.
The bite of the snow drained the blood from his face. He paled, feeling the tremendous weight of his fourteen year old brother weighing him down and stopping him from breathing. The snow wedged into his nose and mouth and he cried out with tears splurging onto the ground. He coughed and choked, desperately struggling for a normal breath.
His brother's hand presses onto the back of his head as the weight on him disappeared. The boy stood and gasped raspingly, his throat cracking against the fluid it had produced during his struggle.
“I cand' breathe! I cand!” He groaned with a red blushed face. He stared in revolt at the indomitable figure of his brother, “You coulda kill't me!”
His brother responded whimsically, “Did I?”
“Yea! You know you did!”
“Aren't you alive?” The older boy glanced at his brother's red face. “You're exaggerating.”
“Am not! Prove it!”
“Race you to the hill. If I win – I'm right.”
The little boy, knowing that his older brother always won, began sprinting toward the hill far down the road. His legs kicked up phantoms of white powder. His face turned plumb red from exhilaration and his red hood flopped wildly around.
He reached the hill and collapsed. “I beat you!” He called.
The older boy smiled at him as he walked up from the distance, “Yea. Yea you did. You run pretty fast for a kid I almost killed.”
The little boy groaned, realizing that he had lost once again.