" in the den of thieves "
by clayton warner shaul II
Annet wore the petal of a flower at the knuckle of her thumb. She wove her scarf as bare threads brushed her shoulders and neck. "Perhaps I’ll visit come next fall…if the weather feels right." Her young brother Parish sat in their grandmother’s old uncomfortable chair still in his Sunday school suit with black shine shoes that didn’t quite reach the floor – but dangled and swiftly swung as he yawned. A drifting cloud let a gasp of sun and Parish responded, "Why if it feels right?" Annet mistook a thread for a thought, adverted, and pricked the plum of her palm. "It is just, just a very far in which to go…and I’m not all too certain when I’d return." She ignored the red of her blood and looked to Parish. He was looking out the window now and sighed. "I’m not certain when I’d like to, really so…" He turned and looked at her with some unknown conviction. Meanwhile outside a man with a red sweater and goose eggs walked
about precariously as a bevy of bodies marched in heavy white lines holding parachutes at their sides. Their ruckus rumbled the sidewalk and his eggs fell to their ends as he fell to his knees; folded his arm to his eyes and they marched to the doorway. The doorbell rang with the tune of a grandfather clock and Annet stood up as she pulled bits of loose thread away from finished scarf. "Goodbye now, Parish" she said with abnormity in voice but remorseful uncertainty in eyes. Parish turned to the window once again as rain began to follow and change the grays of sidewalk; he placed his left hand on his left eye and looked at things like never before. As she walked out of the den and to the door she reached for an umbrella, and then left it behind as she saw the blood had dried.Parish watched from the window as sparrow followed the sun as it sunk into sky. And saw the white lines as his sister drifted along and away with her hand at her mouth. He took down his palm and placed in on the arm of chair as he saw the last leaf fall knowing next year things wouldn’t feel right.
*
