Author S. K. Nicholas

The sight of nature in all of its glory as the train moves through the woods gives me butterflies. Closing my eyes, all of its myriad scents makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. The trees know it, and so do all the animals that dance outside in the sullen air before dissolving into a blurred mess in less than a fraction of a second. At my shoulder is a pretty young thing who keeps touching my hand accidently on purpose. I’m not sure why she chose to sit so close to me, but her proximity pulls me in different directions. To ease my anxiety, I place her in one of two scenarios. The first is with my hand around her throat as I take her in a field of scorched corn that reminds me of the smell of burnt toast from my childhood. The second is where I’ve locked her in the trunk of a car along with thousands of fire ants. Biting her entire body, she screams and begs for me to let her out, but I’m just stood there smoking a cigarette lost in thought while looking up at the moon. It was a lot closer a few billion years ago, but now it keeps drifting further away. They say at a rate of 4cm a year. Not much, but little by little, it escapes our grasp until long after we’re gone it will disappear completely. Imagining the cold and lonely path it will embark on into deep space, I shake free of my melancholy and make an effort to write. Jotting down notes on the front page of a newspaper that’s been resting on my lap, a few words of poetry dribble out but before long I’m sketching the touchy girl’s body, and in particular, the long strands of her pubic hair that resemble the legs of spiders. I bet she’s clean shaven, but something about her eyebrows tells me there’s a side to her that grows wild in both imagination and flesh. It makes me smile, but when she knocks my arm causing me to drop the pen I’m clutching, I shake my head and ignore her apologies. Pretending not to care, I sense her looking at my doodles. Does she realise it’s her genitals I’ve been sketching? Will she get up and leave knowing that such a pervert has been degrading her? Anticipating her next move, I hold my breath as a flock of birds swoop down from the sky and peck out the eyes of a young child flying a kite. The horror of it makes me shudder, but when she places her hand upon my leg, such tragedy is quickly forgotten.