5 Related Shorts

He could not see green. Being colour-blind it turned into a shade of brown. So no matter how hard he stared at his wife’s dress it still looked puce and he couldn’t get excited about it. She stood there in the doorway of the changing room waiting for a compliment, something like: “You look great in that particular shade of lime green (with the paler details), it really shows off your skin tone.” But to him it had the appearance of a drab hessian sack. He was scared. Their relationship was currently on a knife-edge, and he had never told her about his optical defect. He feared that the confusion in his eyes might be read the wrong way and lead to yet another emotional standoff. He wanted to tell her it wasn’t his fault; it was a damn genetic flaw, but she had such high hopes for the baby they were going to try for he didn’t have the guts. He wondered if the only option left was suicide.

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Milky water lapped Julio’s feet as he ambled along the purple beach – above him twelve moons hung in order of their orbit to the planet (Oztra closest, and Dabm The Diminutive furthest away). The trees lining the beach to his right were in the midst of their autumnal singing; he noted how similar to Carmena Burana the melody was. The clams on the rocks were opening and closing in time, giving the impression the notes were coming from their dark innards, which they weren’t. Julio touched his cheek to check he was still out cold. He was afraid he wasn’t. But he felt nothing so, thank Christ, he was. He hoped above hope that he would never wake up.

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Having thrown himself out of the window, Ryan saw for the first time the swallow’s nest under the eves of the eight-storey apartment building. He had an urge to touch it. But of course it rapidly got further away from him, and in those last fleeting milliseconds before he hit the pavement he watched the mother swallow high tail into the mouth of the muddy orb and disappear. At that moment he regretted his fatal decision and wished he too had wings with which he could reverse his fall and stop himself from

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The arrow came from nowhere. Evidently an expert archer had launched it from a longbow and from some distance away, for it struck with such force it almost entirely disappeared into the ground. He stooped and pulled it out of the earth. Tied to its shaft was a message on red paper sealed with wax. He took the paper from the shaft then pushed the arrow back into the hole it had made when it struck – he stroked the blue flights, they were stiff and crackled under his thumb. He unfurled the note as he stood back up. It read: DUCK!

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“Don’t fly too close to the sun, son. You know how Icarus died don’t you?”
“I know pops,” the boy replied. “I promise I won’t – I might touch those clouds though. Is that okay?” He pointed toward the billowing formations tinted in the setting sun.
“Yes, that’s okay – but no talking to the cloud keepers if they are up there today. They are evil little imps and they’ll clip your feathers for a joke and watch you fall to your death.”
“You’re trying to scare me, pop.”
“No. Honestly. They are up there waiting for an adventurous soul like you to dare fly high enough with your handmade eagle wings.”
Of course the boy set off on his flight and with purpose flew straight into the clouds.