Now gaping at the haunted, comatose shanty I felt as if gray clouds were incessantly spiraling overhead as if they were constantly about to burst into rain drops and splatter ominously upon the shack in all its unsettling squalor, accentuated by strikes of lightning and crackles of thunder. I have always done this in the past on my endless ambling home from Hades' Domain.
I never saw any movement within the home's orifices that I obsessively peered into on a daily basis.
Our curiosity got the better of us when we discovered it was a vacant dwelling.
Soon enough, Katherine and I would make pits stops there everyday after school to lay in the backyard, unseen by the world and immerse ourselves in the surprising beauty of what subtly lingered behind the dilapidated edifice.
We had an itch for the discreetly majestic place. The more time we spent there, just laying about as meaningless contemplations glided through our skulls; the more the exuberant, flourishing grasses encompassed us, sculpting to complement the curves of our bodies.
We were like snow angels, engraving our figures onto the soft, rich Earth, as if we were determined to make our mark for countless years to come. We wanted the backyard to be forevermore accustomed to our beings, our spirits, and our voices long after they stopped resounding from every corner of our hallowed escape, like a baritone booming through a bullhorn.
And the more we lie there, the more it all grew higher and higher into more and more of an aesthetic haze; the experience became increasingly visceral, an intoxicating routine that I for once did not find a shred of drudgery in.
It was a lush garden. Ours and only ours. We were Adam and Eve, and it was Eden. It was a completely different planet to the front yard, the house itself, and the rest of the world. Life and time froze in the backyard. Worries and cares were flung out of the window, and everything divine and sublime was captured like a lantern of fireflies, igniting our spirits. But only within the fortress-like, tattered wooden fence of our world away from the world. We were in ecstasy here and only here.
“Why do you suppose there are so many assholes at our school?” Katherine queried one afternoon, rolling onto her stomach and picking at a dandelion.
“Because it’s a conformist kind of school, chock-full of nothing but bros and hos,” I responded calmly, cooly.
“Everyone the same,” Katherine intoned, her eyes deadening like two black pearls descending into the depths of the great blue sea.
“Like a fucking master race.” I wrinkled my nose.
We never usually discussed such heavy subject matters. Katherine and I tended to stick to fluff. Such as whose sleeping with who, which cafeteria worker deals ganja, and which students from the Enemy Domain carried weapons to school. Maybe our friendship had reached a superior level, when it was time for all of that shit to dissolve into oblivion. It was all so trite and stale anyway. Perhaps we were yearning for profundity.
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