A friend and I have been experimenting a bit. He’s a musician and a jolly good one at that, and I thought wouldn’t it be interesting to try to have a conversation!!!
…. And they said it couldn’t be done!!
A conversation with a difference. A conversation where we communicate using only our respective art forms….
Soo he wrote a short piece of music – which if you use the magic power of… finger and press play above, you can hear – and I responded with the first thing that came to my mind…
It’s quite abstract, but what random thoughts aren’t?
Now he must read this and get composing…
I hope you enjoy. As always all comments and thoughts welcome
“Grit” He looked at her and laughed
“Come on bitch you can do it.”
She snarled at him and took more air in her lungs than he thought was available in the room.
“Selfish cow, I paid for that” he joked. “Lucky for you you’re breathing for two.”
She sat on the dining table, brown beads of sweat falling from every pore and orifice, sticking what little nightgown she was wearing close to her body.
He leered at her, perverted, as her breathing deepened and became more laboured.
“You stink luv” he said “Open your legs then, I’ve got a buyer waiting if you can push this out in time”
Taking a hold of her knees he used what little strength the dissipating air in the room allowed him and prized her legs open.
Her scream was piercing, the loudest yet by his reckoning.
“Oh baby, do that again I might not be able to wait if you do.
She shook her head rapidly and took in a big consignment of air.
“Steady on luv, there’s not enough oxygen to…” He fell to his knees struggling to remain conscious.
His eyes turned a pretty beetroot red.
She wasn’t far behind, taking what remaining air there was in the room she pushed whilst outstretching her hand for him to hold.
He reached up and grabbed her arm, just one more push and it would be over.
That night a baby cried on the dinner table.
… Then it died.