Blue Is the Colour (Walking Story)
Blue is the colour of the house I turn my back to. Blue is the sky and white are the clouds that are swirled by the eastern wind. Brushing past overreaching branches I dislodge a bee from its perch upon an apricot rose. The bee buzzes in acceptance, fluffs itself together, and bumbles off to dance for its colony. Looking down below a magnolia I see pale green leaves lying dismantled by the aphids and little ‘pillars. In their time they will turn brown and feed those that grew them.
Pushing thoughts of the crushing vastness of life I walk on past nine houses and turn right into a tunneled passage. In here it is colder, damp, dark, uninviting. I feel I like it. A crunch sounding beneath my right foot causes a halt in my progress. Tilting my foot over I inspect the damage. A broken shell and what looks like the remnants of snail lunch, mucus, and snail eye are splattered onto my trainers sole and the path. I bet it loved its home here, and its family. Sorry about that, little one. Plucking moss from the wall I wipe the mess from my sole, cast natures tissue to my left, and regain momentum.
Quickly I come to the end of the tunnel and emerge into the clean white light. Before me is a wired railing overrunning with ivy and climbing weeds. I look left and immediately spin on my heel. Three men are walking in my direction, speaking in loud voices, but I hardly catch a word. I hurry back down the tunnel as quickly as stealth allows.
I look down to where I trod on the snail, simply out of distraction, and notice its lack of presence. It’s gone. Not only is the lunch and eyes gone, but the shell, the mucus, every last splatter wiped clear. I look to my right. The moss isn’t there. I spin my head to the left so fast the muscles in my neck burn in pain as they often do. There it is. I pick it up and continue walking, forgetting my stealth at this time. I hear an indistinct shout behind me. I flee all the way home.