centre of the universe - the dreaming: Harmattan

07/22/2008: "Harmattan" Maeve lay in his arms and kicked the light sheet off. Not a whisper of wind would blow through the window tonight, and she would stay overheated and sticky with sweat. Marek slept, still as the dead beside her. She couldn't sleep when it was this hot; it had never been hot like this at night when she was a girl. Crickets were loud under the window and in the corners, and she could hear the cows lowing softly in the pasture. With not even the slightest breeze to cool the air, they wouldn't get any rain.

Sliding gently out from under her husband's arm, Maeve padded past the curtain and out to the kitchen. The moon glistened in the clear sky, and she only hesitated a moment before tugging the door open. Out in the yard, dry prairie wool crackled under her feet and the moonlight kissed her bare skin, but not even a tiny breath of wind would tease gooseflesh from her.

What had she been so frightened of, she wondered. The man on the cart who whirled his many-layered cloak and leapt across the 'stage' selling snake oil? Stories of tornadoes blasting across the bare land, lifting barns and throwing them aside like leaves? What foolishness, she thought, as she lifted her face to the night and breathed deeply of the dry, hot air. "There is nothing out there; no great storm come to make kindling of my home." She spoke in a steady voice to the night, to the sky, to the wind, and to the earth.

"No, but there is a naked man wondering what happened to his naked wife," Marek's voice replied.

"The naked wife is too hot," she grinned, without turning to face him. "She wishes to splash cool water on her face."

"The naked man could toss her in the trough to cool her down," Marek replied, his voice closer. Maeve sprinted to the pump.

"But the pump is closer; the naked wife will run some water and duck under it."

Marek was suddenly at her side. "I think the naked wife is mistaken, for she is going in the trough." He lifted her, despite her thrashing and squealing, and carried her to the barn where he'd filled the trough under the eaves just before dusk. She screamed when he lowered her in the cold water, then gasped as it enveloped her. But she had a firm grasp of the hair at the back of her husband's neck. He didn't fall completely in, but in order not to lose his balance, he braced a knee against the side of the wooden trough, and that was enough for Maeve to get an arm around his chest and pull him in on top of her.

"The naked wife thinks the naked husband should build a bigger trough," she laughed, as she looked at their arms and legs splayed over the edges.

"The naked husband isn't thinking much of troughs," Marek whispered in her ear.

They were wrapped in each other, making waves, and didn't notice the clouds scudding across the moon, or the sough of hot wind through dry grass. They didn't hear the horses whinnying in the barn, or the distant growl of thunder in the south.

"Gust" "Libeccio"

1 Comment

The Ms. S , on Tuesday, 22nd July:

You know you have to submit this for publication.

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