A Tire Swing Story is a bite-sized "imagining" inspired by an object I discover while wandering. It could be a curbside trash gem or a message sprayed on a wall. A lost mitten, or an antique store find. Anything goes. I photograph the object and post them together, the story and its inspiration. There will be a new story every Monday and Wednesday. On Fridays, I'll discuss writing, life, love, and coffee. (In no particular order and maybe all at once.)

Monday, March 12, 2012

photo taken by Sarah Martens.
Fydor, the bed bug, is a gentleman. He prefers classical music--Brahms or Chopin, and candlelight. He's meticulous with self-grooming, and reads both French and Latin.

And one thing that Fydor never ever does, is drink blood. 

He's been living happily inside your mattress for most of his 18-month life. But one morning when Fydor wakes, everything changes. 

He is pressed against one of his favorite spots: the back of your neck. He stretches his six legs and yawns. He feels your warm skin beneath him, and a sudden urge. 


Fydor has never wanted to bite anything so badly. Your soft hairs tickle his thorax. He hears the sweet river of blood rushing through your veins. 

Give me strength! 

Fydor scuttles to the kitchen where he dines on a carrot peel lodged between the floorboards. To distract himself from his lust, he spends most of the day composing a sonnet: Happy Ye Radishes!

But night arrives, and with it, Fydor's longing. He can't sleep. Your flesh calls to him. 

Just before dawn, feverish and exhausted, Fydor makes a decision. 

He climbs inside the fabric of your sock. Your socks go into your black and white saddle shoes and you walk out the front door. It is cold, and Fydor shivers in the draft and feels the swinging motion of your steps. He hears the clip-clop sound of your heels hitting the pavement. He clings on. 

When you have traveled a distance from the house, Fydor turns to your foot. "Farewell, lovely softness," he whispers. "Goodbye warm, porous skin." 

He kisses you tenderly just above your ankle, and jumps. 

No comments:

Post a Comment