Flash Warning: Visibility Poor by Diane Becker
There are at least thirty varieties of fresh coffee beans on the supermarket shelf stacked in blood red foil sachets. Some have violet labels printed on them, others have yellow or lime green. Set into the centre of the display, dividing the fresh coffee from instant, is a coffee grinder ‘for customer use’. He picks up a sachet of Costa Rica, the green label indicates it is Strength 2. He will start with this and work his way up. He tips the contents of the packet into the top of the grinder, shuts the lid and sets the dial to Fine; then slips the packet underneath the chute and presses Start. The motor whirrs as the beans spin round in an agitated state. When the bag is full he presses Stop; taps the side of the chute, dusts the remains of loose coffee into the bag and seals it.
The weather forecast is unsettled. A new front is sweeping in from the west with the threat of strong winds and heavy rain. He opens the first bag of coffee, a High Mountain (strength 2) and sniffs it. A flock of geese fly over. He can’t see them but can hear them above the wind that’s buffeting the garden. He switches the kettle on, and watches the sparrows scudding across the lawn like leaves whipped from the trees.
He spends the whole day in the kitchen tasting different types of coffee. He has got as far as strength 4, a Podocarpus when he realizes it’s six o’clock. There are dark clouds swirling round the trees and he feels dizzy. At first he blames his new prescription lenses – varifocals with triple split vision – so he takes them off, and has another shot of coffee.
A blast of wind makes the window glass creak and the sky turns black above the conifer. A forte fortissimo descending chromatic scale rips across the garden like something torn apart. He waits. Listens. The wind pauses and a low humming rises from the freezer, then the fridge clicks in – in the key of D. He is not sure if the note is sharp or flat – a minor interruption to the beat from the clock ticking on the kitchen wall. He waits some more. Listens to the rain rattling against the window. Water, he thinks, I need water.
The rain has gone by the following morning. The sunlight comes and goes, wavering on the light switches, three in a row, two up – one down – old style switches – made of bakelite, brittle things now. Dangerous. A gap where spiders come and go, interfering with the current. 240 volts. Zap. Come closer. Zap. This is a cry for help. Zap. I am losing my grip. Zap. He chases after the song like a rat with a stick, or a stick at a rat, dragging it back by its tail. Fleshy, it slips through his fingers. Ping.
Ping. Ping. Ping. Light falls in through the curtains. They are covered with roses, a print of red and green flowers but they look like faces from this angle. He focuses on them one by one. One face has a green mouth, which flares open. Another has devil horns that fold into red petals. Another has eyes that follow him round the room. He pulls the curtains open. Wide open. Undoes the latch on the window. Leans over and pulls the window up. He smooths the curtains so the folds hang straight. The faces disappear, replaced by clusters of fading roses. Chink chink chink.
The blackbird lands on the shrub below the window. He drops the cup, which smashes to the floor. He slams the window shut, picks up the pieces, then fetches the mop and bucket. Buckets are for tears, he thinks, and for days, he weeps buckets. Finally he wrings out the mop, wipes his eyes and puts his glasses back on. He wipes the dust from the window sill and looks across the road to the telegraph wires where three starlings are looking back, waiting to see what happens …
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Diane Becker is a writer, artist and designer from NW England. She has stories and poems published in 6S Vol 2 and The Pygmy Giant, is deputy editor of The Short Review and blogs at http://notdesignedtojuggle.wordpress.com.
© 2010, Metazen. All rights reserved.
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Very good story.
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I enjoyed this a lot! Surreal, sad and caffeine-infused.
Enjoyed reading this thank you, Diane.
kim
Thanks Matthew, Tania, Kim – your comments much appreciated …
The strength of this piece lies in how you were able to create such a lush and yet stark sense of dream-balance Diane. This kept your pace strong, and kept my attention focused as if I had entered into a state of meditation revealing to me the essential elements of a moment….
Thank you very much Diane.
Like your take on it Hazar – appreciate the comment. Diane
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