Mornings

Cabin Morning

It's the buzzing that pulls her out of sleep. Not the expected buzzing of her phone … no, it's not that …. It's a much more persistent, annoying buzz which comes and goes, intensifies and fades … it's not till she feels the uncomfortable tickle on her cheek that her eyes pop open and she's swatting at a fly that's been bothering her since she began to surface.

She swats at it again and it buzzes off angrily and must settle somewhere because there is the sudden bliss of silence. She lies there, somewhere between sleeping and awakening, enjoying the view in front of her. A warm spring sun is shining through the window, the red curtains on either side lending a surreal glow to the edges. The leaves and branches of the trees outside are moving to their own, secret rhythm, sparrows hopping from one ….. Eeh! .. Sparrows! … Trees! .…

She sits up suddenly …. oh, yeah, of course, they'd driven up to her father's cabin late yesterday. That's where they are. She looks round and sees Castle flat on his stomach next to her … well, she can see he's there, though his head is buried under the pillow.

Suddenly the fly is back, buzzing around her and she swipes at it, vigorously shaking her head as it circles her …. It buzzes off … silence …. then like an avenging hornet it zooms in at her, swerves away …. and settles on Castle's shoulder.

She looks at it. It just sits there above his shoulder blade, running its antenna between its front feet … or legs .. or whatever. She doesn't like flies …. she doesn't know why …. after all, they don't do anything …. other than eat shit …. and land on you ….. with shitty feet …. which they then wipe on their antennae. No, she doesn't like flies.

She slowly moves away and looks down at the floor by the bed. There is a nice throw rug there …. Mexican she thinks …. doesn't know why she thinks that …. there aren't any Mariachi singers … never mind. Her slippers are there. She leans down and picks one up. Slowly she sits back up and turns back to Castle …. and the fly …. it's still there …. wiping shit over its face now … she wonders if it is watching her …. maybe with all that shit over its eyeballs it can't see her … she knows they have compound eyeballs … she remembers that from school … it's like they have a built-in slow-mo cam …. so if she's going to sort him … maybe it's her? …. out, she needs to be quick about it … she wonders what he … she … it , is thinking as it sits there wiping shit over its face … maybe she should just use the Glock … no, she hasn't got it with her … its back in the loft …. maybe she should pretend not to be looki … WHACK!

Everything happens at once. The fly scoots away fractions of a second before the slipper lands.

Castle, shocked out of deep sleep by the whack on his back gives a bellow and startles up, his head shooting up, the pillow flying off to the side.

Castle's head hits the shelf above the bedhead holding a selection of books Jim Beckett considered appropriate reading material for weekend and holiday perusal.

The shelf tips off the hooks that have faithfully held it in place for the last decade or so just as a startled and "oouuching" Castle flops back down on the bed rubbing a hand over the bump he's just acquired on the back of his noggin.

The pillow meanwhile, happily sailing off Castle's head, hits the wrought iron night lamp that Jim Beckett had acquired from a local blacksmith and sets it rocking on the nightstand.

The Encyclopaedia Of Law And Procedure Nº25, weighing in at somewhere close to Mike Tyson's top weight and happily ensconced on its shelf for the last eight years or so, collecting dust and rubbing shoulders with Tomes nºs 24 and 26 of the same family, takes careful aim, and with the help of Newton's Law of Gravity (to be found on page 135 of the Encyclopaedia of Science, still precariously wobbling on the end of the shelf) lands on Castle's head, some two inches away from the previous point of encounter with the aforementioned shelf.

A barely emitted "Oooowww!" gets buried under the combined assaults of Tomes 24 and 26 who, not to be outdone by Nº25 make a dual impact landing on Castles back, with the Encyclopaedia of Science joining in for good measure.

The added effect of books, torch, candlestick et all cascading off the tipping shelf add to the already uncertain wobble of the wrought iron bedside lamp which chooses that moment to complete an elegant arabesque twist and topples over to hit Castle on the other shoulder.

For a moment, it seems as though things might come to a standstill, however, the wooden shelf, freed of books and accoutrements decides it's time to have some fun and topples off its supports to land with a loud thud across the piles of books, lamps, torches, matches, etc. already accumulated over Castles frozen body.

Slowly, it seems to Beckett, the dust begins to settle …. the books and object shift into their assigned spots and come to a stop …. Castle's muffled groan emanates from somewhere within the pileup … Beckett, hand held up to her mouth, eyes wide in shock .… is suddenly distracted by a buzzing fly …..

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