Day 328 – Alienation – Part 4

Word count: 685

The pitchfork hit the earth with a resonating anger. Again it lifted, flakes of mud and grass dripping from its tip like rain, and fell to ground once more. The motion was a circle, unyielding to limitation or end. It was intensely performed by the man who was managing the action that the man himself had forgotten he was even there.

It was Friday afternoon. Frank had chewed over yesterday’s session with Doctor Blackman in his head. Last night he couldn’t sleep, so he took a walk. He knew Moira was watching him with one eye slightly open as he got dressed and both eyes hiding behind the blinds at the window as she watched him leave the house. He returned an hour later, drenched in early morning dew and patched with exhaustion, but his mind made him.

If Doctor Blackman had told him anything, it was to be strong. They had been talking for weeks now and Doctor Blackman seemed to understand what it was that Frank was trying to say. He seemed to care about what happened to him that night; the reason did not matter to him, so long as an answer was found. So it was that Frank steeled himself to do what he should have done years ago.

A sweat dripped down his brow and the cycle stopped, the pitchfork slumped into the mud like a strange scarecrow in a suburban field. Frank reached for his hipflask – filled with nothing but ice cold water from the fridge – and relaxed, taking deep breaths. The sun was scorching even though it had been raining yesterday evening. The two days appeared to be quite polarised. He felt Moira’s beetle like eyes watching him from the kitchen window as she did the dishes. Her back garden was being deformed; her reactions were tame by any home owner’s standard.
But Frank was not destroying the garden for any old reason. He had a purpose beyond no other. Though at the time only he knew it, he was delighted with how he was going to be admired. The drawing in his back garden may be a little disjointed and hideous, but soon it would make sense.

Moira stepped out onto the back step by the backdoor. She folded her arms before talking, “What are you doing?”
“I’m drawing.”
“With a pitchfork? In my lawn?”
“Yes and in ours, dear. In ours.”
Frank knew she was only worried about what the neighbours might think if they caught him out here instead of in the city making the bread. He could feel another argument brewing, so he tried to change the subject.
“So kids are doing well at school I hear?”
“Quite, but they are still missing out,” Moira was implying the lack of time they spent with their father, whom Moira had tried to get a restraining order on them just a few years previously.
Frank ignored this comment. He just wanted to draw with his large gardening tool and be free. He needed time to think.
“Please leave me alone, I’m thinking,” he asked and Moira obeyed.

However, what Frank was not to know what that instead of going back into the house and moving on passed the idea of helping him , Moira went straight to the phone to call Doctor Blackman. Unluckily for Frank, he was round within half an hour.

“Good afternoon Frank,” Doctor Blackman greeted Frank before taking residence in a garden chair.
“Moira call you?” Frank asked.
“Yes she did, she is very concerned with ju.”
Frank scoffed. The only thing that Moira cared about was getting her own way and the only thing that concerned Mary was the amount of laundry to do in any given day.
“Ju do not believe me?”
“Oh I’m not sure. It’s Moira.”
“What is it that ju are doin’?”
“I’m making a symbol.”
“Why? What is it?”
“Take a look,” Frank said, turning his back on the doctor and revealing the small black marking on his lower back that, if imagination allowed, exactly matched the replica symbol being carved out in Frank’s back garden.

~ by S.G. Mark on August 30, 2012.

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