Friday, April 18, 2014

Short I'm working on

People have asked, and yes the next installation of Gods Fail (The last one as well) is being worked on, as is another project, though I'm not sure this one has a similar large reach.

For now, here is a short piece:

Matt, his skin red from the sun, his brown hair standing fried, embraced the eagle-eyed Bedouin with grooves etched on his face.
“Be safe. I don’t want you to risk too much,” said Matt.
“And you. Don’t be a dead infidel,” the Bedouin said in a rusting voice and a brown-teeth smile.
“We’ll talk soon.”
Matt stood at the entrance of a dusty tan house watching the Bedouin walk off. Matt locked the door and lit a cigarette as he walked to his car. The street’s aroma of diesel and rotting food forced him to spit. The wails of a call to prayer broke out. First static, then a mournful hum.
Matt checked under the hood and wheel wells for a bomb and scanned the rooftops of the nearby tan houses, as small-leafed trees swayed between them. It was a beautiful town. And the weather right now was that perfect dry heat that made him think of Socal’s springs. Perhaps one day it would be filled with tourists with red skin.
That thought was jolted by an explosion in the distance.
Two kids came running by. One of them pulled out a few toys from his pocket. He held up a broken plastic soldier and indicated that he wanted five dinar.
Matt smiled. “Here,” he said, handing over the money, though he knew he was getting ripped off. The boy seemed surprised. And his friend started to search through his pockets for something. He looked at Matt with a hurt look. Then his face brightened up. “I ficky your mom.”
“You’re not the first or last.” Matt grinned.
The boy didn’t like the reaction, and he tussled with his friend for the money.
Matt placed the toy soldier on his dashboard, and drove off. The kids stared at him with smiles that soon accompanied waves then rocks. He directed his car through dusty roads, avoiding donkey carts and teenage boys with herds of goats. It smelled like cloves and meat here—he liked that.
Matt felt sick. After an hour of driving, he saw a small village nested on a mountainside in the distance. He parked his car away from the road and climbed up a ridge.
A goat herder up top greeted him.
Matt followed the herder, and a young boy stayed with the goats. They made their way up the trails and between satellite peaks. Matt forced his legs to keep up. They came to a ridge overlooking a compound with high walls.
“That’s it,” said the goat herder.
“Are you certain?” Matt asked.
The herder shrugged.
There were a handful of cars, all dusty, but still too fancy for these parts.
Matt pulled out a small telescope and watched for any familiar faces.
A vibration started near Matt’s thighs. He moved away from the ridge and took the phone call.

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