Saturday, 4 January 2014

Day 4 - Death, a pen portrait

He sits on the porch, cigarette in hand and a wolf hound at his feet.  Battered boots, jeans, and a checked flannel shirt.  All of which have seen better days.  He seems to slouch in his chair, one hand absently rubbing the ear of his dog, but he has an air of alertness about him.  The way he looks out up the road, as if he is waiting for someone, the way his feet are planted on the floor as if he is ready to leap up at any moment.  He looks up now, a slight noise in the bushes before him, bright blue eyes gaze intently into the garden, salt and pepper hair grown just a little too long to be conventional hanging over his ears and collar.  His skin is the colour and texture of tanned leather, making you think of too many hours working out in the hot sun, and his mouth is full.  
A smile erupts onto his face as a small black and white cat struts out of the bush with a mouse in its jaws.  "Hercules, my Lion what have you brought me" booms the man with a deep laughing voice.  The dog raises its head, rolls its eyes and goes back to sleep.  The cat tries to chirp a meow but the mouse gets in the way and a muffled squeak is all D hears.  “Well now, you had better stay out here with me and old Blue here to eat that.  You know how Lucy and Emily will scream bloody murder if you take that inside.”

The cat hops up onto D’s lap and noisily eats his mouse;  D scratching at his ear and watching up the road.  Waiting for Julia to come home.

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