honey & smoke

So so I am planning on submitting this story to a contest my school is having. I not so goodz at writing, but I figure why not try.

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It was September. The sky had been covered in a thin layer of grey clouds for weeks, with a thick fog lingering for hours each day with no sun to burn it off. The moon fought hard to get through the clouds but she always failed. The grey sticky bubble was only escapable by leaving the city. So they did.  

“Well, this is charming,” said Lisa as she stepped off the zeppelin. She tried not to let her boots get wet as she leapt to the shore, but Dolores saw her heel splash in the lake.

As they stepped onto the shore, the trees of the island seemed thick and tangled but the sky overhead was clear and full of birds and lavender. Leaving the city and their tiny studio apartment had been Lisa’s idea. The pair of them had been bickering for weeks about money spent on the car or whether it would kill someone to jump out their fourth story window. The millions of people in the city scurried around them, tying invisible strings to them, pulling them away from each other and out of their bodies. They had fallen in love in the city but now it seemed as though the city was smothering them. They needed the birds and lavender of an open space to save them.

 “What’ll we have for lunch, then?” Lisa asked, opening and closing various cupboards in their cottage while Dolores arranged her work station.  

“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” said Dolores.

“Sure it does, we can have whatever you like.”

“Okay, then, tomatoes on toast.”

All day Dolores sat at a wooden desk and stared out the window at the hummingbird feeder and laughed as the hummingbirds fought each other for the sugarwater. Lisa hurried around the kitchen making a roast duck for dinner, tying it with a string and kissing it while it marinated. They both hummed to themselves while they worked, neither hearing the other’s tune.

That evening they settled into the cottage and went for a walk down to the beach. They stared out at the sunset for hours, watching a pinprick of yellow light from the mainland lighthouse flicker weakly through the fog that still engulfed the city.

The next morning Dolores woke early and went for a walk while Lisa slept in. The island had seven cottages, each with its own private beach and patch of forest. Dolores walked through the forest, listening to the birds migrating overhead. The clouds were like pure white cotton candy, fluffy and nostalgic. Dolores giggled and picked some lavender the moon had left behind.

Dolores stood over Lisa for a moment and watched her sleep. A strand of hair was floating in front of her mouth, getting sucked in and blown out repeatedly. Dolores set down the lavender on the bedside table. Gold poured through the window.

“Oh, thank you, Lo Lo. They’re beautiful,” said Lisa, rubbing her eyes with her knuckles. “I hope I didn’t sleep too long. Eggs for breakfast?”

Dolores wiped her plate clean of yoke with a toast soldier and settled down to work. She was a poet, her last two books had gotten mediocre reviews and she was unsure of where to go with her next one. She thought her first book would have gained her the fame and respect she desired, but she really only had a small following of sad men. She wasn’t sure she could handle the work needed for another book and the little subsequent recognition it was sure to get. Lisa knew Dolores was done, that her editor would reject her next book and that Dolores would collapse in on her light.

Lisa owned a successful animal grooming business with her college boyfriend. It certainly kept her busy; she would come home late smelling of fur and mint. Sometimes she would even capture migrating birds just to give them a bath and pat their feathers. It gave the couple the money they needed to live comfortably, although it made Dolores slightly uncomfortable that Lisa spent her days with an ex-lover.

Dolores decided to take the afternoon off from work and fly the kite she had secretly packed under her shoes. Lisa jumped out of the trees and ran across the beach to meet Dolores, who threw the kite to the sky to meet a flock of chirping birds and rolling lavender. The kite twirled and twisted among the clouds and the women laughed and tumbled in the water and sand.

That night while she was finishing the dishes, Lisa saw the flickering light of another cabin having a bonfire. It reminded her of her childhood when her father would build fires in the backyard and the smell of burning wood would fill the house while her mother opened windows. Lisa gathered some bark from a dead birch tree and some larger sticks that had fallen on the ground. She built the fire and lit it.

They roasted some hot dogs on sticks. The fire crackled and they breathed in the hot air from the fire as it rose in waves against the cold night air, creating the smallest of pressures. When the fire was down to the embers, Lisa wrapped a checkered blanket around both of their shoulders. Dolores put her hands over Lisa’s and rubbed them softly to keep them warm. Lisa and Dolores went to sleep side by side in a bed with a wooden frame that wasn’t sanded.

The next day Lisa woke before Dolores. She didn’t want to make Dolores something for breakfast that she didn’t want, so she went for a walk along the beach. Driftwood and snail shells beat themselves against the shore. Lisa noticed a black ring around her wrist. It was new.

When Lisa got back to the cottage Dolores was showering. She hadn’t noticed the new black mark on the back of her knee.

“I wasn’t sure what you wanted for breakfast so I haven’t made anything yet,” Lisa called over the stream of water.

Dolores sighed, “I don’t care what you make.” Lisa could never make a decision without approval.

“We planned on going kayaking today, but are you planning to work instead?” asked Lisa over the bacon.

The way she said “work” grated Dolores’ nerves. Whenever she was in a slump, Lisa would sink her claws in and wouldn’t release until she got what she wanted.  

“I’m going to work, I’m on a good streak right now,” said Dolores, finishing her coffee. At least working would save her the hassle of a million questions pulling her out of her body.

“How could she leave me alone this whole time?” thought Lisa as she trudged through wet sand and caterpillars. “I came here for her and she’s barely even looked at me. She is so selfish and her work has never brought us anything.”

The day passed without event as the couple did not speak again. Dolores wrote a few lines of her story and was unsatisfied with them. The back of her leg kept itching. Lisa gathered shells from the beach for her collection, throwing back ones with imperfections. Each time she threw one back she would notice the black ring around her wrist, working its way up her arm. The white clouds of yesterday had turned a horrible black and yellow.

That night as they finished their last bites of dinner – steak with apples – Lisa took the chef’s knife from the counter as Dolores took the axe from the inside of the door. They lunged at each other at the same time, Dolores connecting with the base of Lisa’s neck and Lisa piercing Dolores’ heart.