Day 23 - Only Laugh - Chapter 23 (1414 words)

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ONLY LAUGH WHEN IT HURTS

By Wayne Webb

CHAPTER 23

The light was diffuse at best, it was mid afternoon and the trees were thin and reedy in their autumn days. The slope of the hill was littered with dead leaves and it made for an uncertain footing. Tony slowed right down and tried to take very specific and deliberate steps to stop himself from losing his grip on the ground. His body twisted and turned more than once, trying to wrest itself out from his control and throw itself down the slope.

At the bottom of the hill was a small gully, rocky and clear, a river of sorts when it was raining. IT was gloomy and there was a chance it would be filled soon enough, but certainly not even in the instants it would take for gravity to dash him against the rocky ground. The air was cool and he felt the change in air pressure, there was definitely bad weather coming, it was madness to be out in it now.

He could not turn around without losing his place, possibly tumbling away from where he stood. Instead the stepped down and across to his left, crooking an arm on a tree and feeling anchored planted his feet as firmly as he could. Now more secure he contorted his upper body to look back up the slope. He was only maybe 20 or 30 feet from the roadside, but it may as well have been a mile. He had walked out of the restaurant, a lonely stop for buses and cars on the Tuscan hills, full of wood and fire and homely smells. He crossed the road, thinking he saw something and took a simple step onto what he thought was solid ground and he slid. Slid far enough that he crested a ridge, an edge away from the road that dropped him downwards and unable to stop. The ground was treacherous and he got further and further away from the relative solidity of the sealed roadway.

Now here he was so close but looking up at the ridge, the wet and unstable surface he felt like he was gazing across an impassable ravine. Tony righted his body and looked downwards again. It was three maybe four times as far to the bend in the road below, an 's' shape curved road that looped him where he was, intersecting the arms as he took a short-cut between the loops. It seems logical, right even that following on and letting gravity take him to the next level where he would find some stability and safety.

He took a deep breath and crouched down to the lowest level he could, without lying down or kneeling in the mud. He was trying to spread his weight out over a larger area, trying to reassert his centre of gravity. Then he let go of the tree, trying to make it to the next one so he could get a better, lower position on the hill. He worked his way through the bare copses painfully and slowly, getting further and further from the hill and the roadside restaurant. Finally, about halfway down he ran out of trees and the helpful crutches, anchors they made for him. This was the decision point, though he had really committed much further up, now it was the point of no return. He could conceivably weave his way back up the ladder of trees, though he knew that there was little he could do when up at the top of those trees again.

He looked up wistfully, seeing a thickening plume of smoke drifting skywards away from the wood-fire inside the restaurant, thinking fancifully he could smell the pastries and wine from here, taste them on the air itself. He was watching that serene column for a few seconds when he saw it move violently. The wind had picked up and the plume was now being driven towards him, darkening the sky. The weather was turning fast. The crack of thunder sounded ominously close, there was electricity in the air and then another crack.

Rain could not be far away, too late to think to hard. He stepped out as the first splashes hit him on the head, he scrabbled towards the clearest patch and then the world up ended and he fell flat, hard and skidded a few more feet. Why on earth had he ever stepped over the edge? He came to a quick enough halt though now he was covered in blood.

Blood? What the hell? Where did this come from?

Mud. He was covered in mud. It was clay and an orangey colour and still wet under the leaves, it confused him for a moment but a covering relief fell over him with the realisation that this was not him bleeding or worse. The rain got heavy in less than a minute it became a downpour and the already slick clay surface became as slippery as oil on glass. He could not stay where he was, his weight was subtly moving, like he could not stay still. He could not go up, that looked impossible, then only way was onwards.

He was already covered in this clay mud orange, so he crawled on all fours, getting more and more mired in the filth as he went but now it was par for the course. He may as well get into it and get out to safety on the other side and back on solid ground.

Water was flowing around him now, and pouring into the dry river bed closer that ever before. Except it was noticeably wet there and not dry at all. He crawled into it and felt the click algae and moulds growing on the rocks made what should have been solid as bad as the slick and viscous mud.

Only a few more feet and he'd be safe, he could almost touch the road where it ran alongside the little river. He had crossed the bridge on the way to the restaurant earlier and had looked down as they drove over it.

He slipped on the rocks trying to climb out of the gully and then the water asserted itself and pushed him down a few feet, rapidly and frighteningly. He grabbed at a branch and stopped himself from being swept along with it. The pull was getting stronger and stronger. Water was rising around him and beating down on him from the sky.

He could barely see now.

BANG!

Fuck! How close is that?

The lightning must have been very nearby and the crack was deafeningly close to where he was, he could taste the air now and he felt the ear popping pressure of the thunder as it rolled on and on. He needed to get to the ground, get to the road and run back to the restaurant and safety.

He pulled hard on the branch and put his weight on it trying to get out of the torrent. There was an instant of freedom as his body lurched out of the river, raging at his clothes trying to weight him down. It lasted only moments as the limb tore and came away in his hands. Because he had risen up and was pulling his body up and over, the reversal of fortune came with a homecoming to his full predicament and he fell backwards with the returning momentum.

The water, the river closed over his head and moved him quickly away and towards the bridge. He felt bone crunching hard on rocks as he was dashed down and under the surface while constantly flailing for purchase. He gripped the bridge as it came into reach and tried to hold on.

Water closed over his head.

He could not breathe.

Another flash of light and a massive wave, sound slamming into him bodily.

Then he woke up.

It was night, it was dark and he was in Aida's bed. It had been 3 months since the kids debut concert, it had gone well and became a regular thing in his cafe.

Aida and him spent a lot of time together, they got very comfortable and they became a regular thing too.

His dreams of being underwater and rising up drowning, while not drowning had gone away. He had been happy and was sleeping the best he had since, well since he could remember which was only the last three years.

Now this. He was shaking, cold and scared.

Aida was asleep.