04 April 2012

(vignette 5)
Johnny in the Bag





In the darkness of his flashbacks, there was a single light.  Memory flickered as if a flame in the wind.  A desire, and, trepidation.

Both beside the couch and within his flashbacks, he heard someone demand, Well!  It was Dominique pushing the tall, skinny one, whom Philippe knew as Johnny, for a response.  In his flashbacks, the voice belonged to his father.  It lay somewhere in the darkness.  There, the word implied something more than expectation.  Duty demanded obedience.  And, it was spoken with impatience if not disgust.

Philippe bent down as he’d been taught to, taking hold of the pig behind its shoulders.  In reality, Johnny felt Philippe’s hold of him as something of a force against Dominique’s relentless onslaught.  Now, he prayed that someone would stop her.  No one did.  No one, it seemed, would dare.  She was a force not of nature, but, of something equal to it.

The gun-shot, of course, was verbal.  But, in his flashbacks, it burst from the darkness like a moment of creation.  It was instantly blinding and simultaneously deafening.  The pig seemed to fall in the very same moment, its belly surrendering to gravity.  Philippe recalled his curiosity at the legs falling away.  It was as if they’d never been there.

His own legs buckled as he came face to face with the pig.  The wet of the earth was warmer than he’d expected.  It felt as though it was welcoming the both of them.  He held the cloth bag to the pig’s forehead, where his father’s shot had passed squarely between the eyes.  He collected the blood.  Surely, he forced himself to believe, these were its memories.  After they had coagulated, he imagined, he would eat them.  They would be brought back to life in him.  But, in this moment, they were pouring out even while the life had already drained away.

It was with irony’s touch that reality returned with a wholly different and stuttering flashback.  His mother.  In the years before her own death.  Standing.  At the backyard fence.  In conversation, with the neighbour.  Summer breezes flowing, between laundry hung out to dry.  The both of them, trading secrets.  Savouring the taste of pickled pig’s feet.  Philippe heard his mother, sharing her recipe for blood sausage.  Johnny-in-the-bag, she called it.
     



No comments:

Post a Comment