flibble flobble

His face is grizzled. A swathe of white stubble grips his cheeks and chin, whilst above his top lip he has let the hair grow. It lies like an albino caterpillar in the shade of a bulbous nose. His skin is dark and looks dry and salty like a sailor's. A torn and filthy rag the same colour as his skin is draped over his head whilst across his shoulder rest two shovels.
'Git to work ya varmint.' He spits out the words in disgust at the young man who stands leaning heavily on his shovel. He looks in some discomfort . His sweaty torso is heaving quickly and his face is red. He points to his mouth,
'As....thma.' The bearded man looks at him with squinted eyes. Watery orifices look out at a situation his brain processes obtusely. Slowly and methodically he places one of the spades on the floor. He keeps his eyes on the young man the whole time. He grips his hands around the shaft of the other spade and pulls it back behind his shoulder.
'Work goddammit ya varmint son o' a bitch!' The younger man can barely breathe now and he is spluttering for breath. The spade strikes him across the side of the head. The old man is strong and the spade cast iron. The young man lies dead on the floor. His cheek bone protruding, splintered into a dying sculpture. Spit flies out in disgust from the man's mouth as he towers over the crumpled form casting a shadow across his body.
'Varmints, all of em, just plain ole, no good varmints, sons of bitches.'
'Geez Roland, you kill another one?'
'Ain't none o' your b'sness Crabtree. You looks after ya own group, aah looks after m'own.'
'That's a funny way ya'll got o' lookin' after ya group Roland.' Crabtree doesn't say anything after this. He sees the look from Roland and shuts up and walks away.
Roland reaches into his pants and scratches his balls. He sniffs his fingers and exhales with a contented sigh. The smell of summer is here and that means pussy is on its way. Coming by the truckload that very evening from Morningsong across state. A whole sackful of pretty honeys smoothed out and ready for his expert approach. Something in his pants stirs and he leans happily on his spade squinting at the toiling bodies which surround him. He may not be able to wait until evening the way the thing in his pants stirs. He may have to rustle himself up a piece of man meat before then. His eyes rotate grittily in their sockets and stare at the man on the floor.

Penelope

Is this an excerpt from a longer story? You write good descriptive prose. A suggestion of necrophelia to add to the tension doesn't hurt either. Well done.

__________________
"Trees cause more pollution than automobiles do." Ronald Reagan ~ 1981

Poetry Editor @ Sacred Twilight

flibble flobble

No it isn't an excerpt from a longer piece. I saw a photo of an old geezer and I thought oohh I'll write something. Glad you liked it and thanks for the post!

Penelope

er .. are you male? British? This really is good. I liked it a lot.

__________________
"Trees cause more pollution than automobiles do." Ronald Reagan ~ 1981

Poetry Editor @ Sacred Twilight

flibble flobble

Yes, British, male and desperate for a cup of tea at the moment.

Penelope

I thought you might be male. It was because of how you described the man. Sounded male to me.
The spelling and the names you used gave me a clue as to you being British. Especially Crabtree - got me thinking about fragrances and soaps.
It really is excellent writing. I've read it a couple of times and enjoyed revisiting it. Picking up more nuances which indicates a skilled layering of words.

__________________
"Trees cause more pollution than automobiles do." Ronald Reagan ~ 1981

Poetry Editor @ Sacred Twilight

flibble flobble

Thanks for your comments Penelope.
Now to Crabtree apples, they are so quintessentially English, harking back to the scrumping of apples in years gone by, now known more as stealing! A product known as Crabtree soap and perfume-there's money to be made in a name like that. Brings visions of organic and natural frothelly stuff which makes you smell good enough to eat. Aye, people'd pay top dollar for a whiff of our expansive product range!

VenerealJesus

Very nice stuff, very nice descriptions but a strange idea. If only you would elaborate instead of leaving us hanging, or maybe you will add on later, if i may say so.

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Truth, covered in security...

flibble flobble

you are exactly right. I do need to expand on stuff and really try to piece a coherent, longer and ultimately more fulfilling piece of writing than these short snacks. I have no explanative excuse other than tiredness and work overload seek to diminish my creative output. However, I will fight these forces of darkness and cobble together something that has a greater circularity of meaning rather than leaving the reader hanging on.

Bishop

Very Good. But I noticed a few things as I was reading.

1. "The young man can barely breathe now, and is sputtering for breath." the way you wrote it sounded slightly redundant, maybe replacing the second "breath" with air would be better.

2. The way you wrote this convinces me you have a very extended volcabulary (Or you use the thesaurus like me ). Balls is a very crude word. "He scratches himself." would be an Infinitely better phrase than balls, it gives us an idea of what he's doing, without degrading your very good writing.

Other wise, very good

__________________
There's a difference between knowing the path, and walking the path

flibble flobble

Thanks Bishop, good points and I'll keep them in mind for future writing. By the way, what's a thesaurus!!? They're too useful aren't they. I try and restrict my usage, but inevitably reach for its well thumbed pages at times of brain meltdown!