Stories of Siv Spencer Theophane
Pushing Calhoun
Does this wrecker fancy the jealous clique, Calhoun thought to himself as Siv walked away. In his mind he saw many men that could not be trusted, Norris was one of them and so was Siv. They were jealous of his experience with this world and his immense knowledge, not so much as a tinge of hurt struck Calhoun as Siv walked away without a fight. None at all. It took him until his last breath to realize he was wrong.
Siv sat on the sofa that he had slept on, it was crumpled from his weight but he was a very stiff sleeper. The plot of the sofa was still anew, and if the pillows were moved into their original positions nobody would know it had been touched at all. His face stared at the carpet that was ridden with negligence, from the lack of noise he chose against disturbing Mr and Mrs Emanuel and definitely not their sons. Visiting Calhoun again was not an option for two reasons; one, that he may still be in a sick lecturers mood, and two, he was too afraid of opening the door and seeing his remains lying there cold and white, with the era of death radiating inside the room but never touching him. His sudden illness had not struck Siv as odd at all, the fumes inhaled at the labs were at times unbearable and unclean, his body took this new change as an excuse to bring disease to the surface of Calhoun’s face. It had certainly set up home there, and although he had researched medicine he was no doctor, by Siv’s reasoning there wasn’t any doctor that could be here when beckoned otherwise less would die from disease. Arguing this was his knowledge that this world did indeed have doctors, but he found them far more lazy than the ones at the labs who came to see their patients rather than the other way around.
Sedimentology to cuisine had he looked at in depth, but it surprised him that he neglected to look into how to use the belt inside a car or how normal people drank their water. He emitted one long outtake of breath and rested his elbows sideways on his knees like a bored child, he knew not what to start with so he ignored everything until it came to relevance. Athwart from the sofa was a television, but he had seen so many models and so few buttons to match it’s uses that he thought it best not to meddle, no matter how much he wanted to. Siv looked into the unplugged television as if its screen were a tunnel of which he could not escape, his mind rested there until he heard the noise of something moving upstairs. Siv flinched. His hand grasped the arm of the sofa and it’s twin took hold of his neck nervously. Like a publicized cue, he began to hear several footsteps wandering above him, this was a good sign. He could summon the courage to look Calhoun in the eye and speak to Mr Emanuel about finding a temporary living arrangement, though Siv gulped at the idea of doing it in that order. The first thing to descend from the stairs was the cat, it’s collar gleamed as it passed the mirror, like a lady of luxury the cat moved to sit comfortably into the smallest chair, sitting tall like a monument inspecting everything inside the room. Cats were not the domestic pets that rolled in muck for pleasure, thankfully, thought Siv. These were classy and proud creatures that Siv admitted were remarkably beautiful for a descendant of an animal of nature, this was no lie. In a poem you have the freedom to lie to your readers, but the rhyme spoils the lie and creates something constructive and entertaining to read, this was how he felt with the Emanuels. He and Calhoun gave their lives some adventure disguised inside a serious predicament, and that, Siv knew was the reason they were not thrown out the minute they refused to answer their questions. Their incomprehensible routine was what Siv was most expecting to be misused in the family, seeing as it was human nature to not take what you hold as dear, but as dependable. He wondered if it was difficult to enter a market to buy some bread, maybe Calhoun would show him how once his suicidal thoughts had deserted him. Siv would be sure to remain in correspondence with Calhoun a long time after he had moved on, presumably when Siv had gained the bravery to tell Calhoun that despite their differences he had came to rely on him, and he would surely have suffered without him. Siv felt the sudden breeze from doors that were quickly opening and closing from upstairs, Siv moved to the other side of the living room to get a better view of the stairs. Nobody was walking down them, but he could hear fading voices that were speaking from the top of them. He approached the bottom of the stairs but was knocked backward by Adam’s body that punched him as he trampled down the stairs and almost through Siv. This made the feline leap off her chair only to have her tail stood upon by Cameron’s feet who had rushed down the stairs seconds after Adam, the cat squealed and glared at him like a tigeress. This was a look ignored by the two boys because Adam had already raised the phone to his ear and Cameron was looking at Siv acting without concern.
“Have you seen your friend upstairs?” he asked Siv, showing signals of annoyance at the drama but fear at the same time, Siv was unsure of how to detect sensitivity but he could also sense this inside of him. Though he had been wrong before. The boy didn’t have to say it, he knew Calhoun was dead.
Siv sat on the sofa that he had slept on, it was crumpled from his weight but he was a very stiff sleeper. The plot of the sofa was still anew, and if the pillows were moved into their original positions nobody would know it had been touched at all. His face stared at the carpet that was ridden with negligence, from the lack of noise he chose against disturbing Mr and Mrs Emanuel and definitely not their sons. Visiting Calhoun again was not an option for two reasons; one, that he may still be in a sick lecturers mood, and two, he was too afraid of opening the door and seeing his remains lying there cold and white, with the era of death radiating inside the room but never touching him. His sudden illness had not struck Siv as odd at all, the fumes inhaled at the labs were at times unbearable and unclean, his body took this new change as an excuse to bring disease to the surface of Calhoun’s face. It had certainly set up home there, and although he had researched medicine he was no doctor, by Siv’s reasoning there wasn’t any doctor that could be here when beckoned otherwise less would die from disease. Arguing this was his knowledge that this world did indeed have doctors, but he found them far more lazy than the ones at the labs who came to see their patients rather than the other way around.
Sedimentology to cuisine had he looked at in depth, but it surprised him that he neglected to look into how to use the belt inside a car or how normal people drank their water. He emitted one long outtake of breath and rested his elbows sideways on his knees like a bored child, he knew not what to start with so he ignored everything until it came to relevance. Athwart from the sofa was a television, but he had seen so many models and so few buttons to match it’s uses that he thought it best not to meddle, no matter how much he wanted to. Siv looked into the unplugged television as if its screen were a tunnel of which he could not escape, his mind rested there until he heard the noise of something moving upstairs. Siv flinched. His hand grasped the arm of the sofa and it’s twin took hold of his neck nervously. Like a publicized cue, he began to hear several footsteps wandering above him, this was a good sign. He could summon the courage to look Calhoun in the eye and speak to Mr Emanuel about finding a temporary living arrangement, though Siv gulped at the idea of doing it in that order. The first thing to descend from the stairs was the cat, it’s collar gleamed as it passed the mirror, like a lady of luxury the cat moved to sit comfortably into the smallest chair, sitting tall like a monument inspecting everything inside the room. Cats were not the domestic pets that rolled in muck for pleasure, thankfully, thought Siv. These were classy and proud creatures that Siv admitted were remarkably beautiful for a descendant of an animal of nature, this was no lie. In a poem you have the freedom to lie to your readers, but the rhyme spoils the lie and creates something constructive and entertaining to read, this was how he felt with the Emanuels. He and Calhoun gave their lives some adventure disguised inside a serious predicament, and that, Siv knew was the reason they were not thrown out the minute they refused to answer their questions. Their incomprehensible routine was what Siv was most expecting to be misused in the family, seeing as it was human nature to not take what you hold as dear, but as dependable. He wondered if it was difficult to enter a market to buy some bread, maybe Calhoun would show him how once his suicidal thoughts had deserted him. Siv would be sure to remain in correspondence with Calhoun a long time after he had moved on, presumably when Siv had gained the bravery to tell Calhoun that despite their differences he had came to rely on him, and he would surely have suffered without him. Siv felt the sudden breeze from doors that were quickly opening and closing from upstairs, Siv moved to the other side of the living room to get a better view of the stairs. Nobody was walking down them, but he could hear fading voices that were speaking from the top of them. He approached the bottom of the stairs but was knocked backward by Adam’s body that punched him as he trampled down the stairs and almost through Siv. This made the feline leap off her chair only to have her tail stood upon by Cameron’s feet who had rushed down the stairs seconds after Adam, the cat squealed and glared at him like a tigeress. This was a look ignored by the two boys because Adam had already raised the phone to his ear and Cameron was looking at Siv acting without concern.
“Have you seen your friend upstairs?” he asked Siv, showing signals of annoyance at the drama but fear at the same time, Siv was unsure of how to detect sensitivity but he could also sense this inside of him. Though he had been wrong before. The boy didn’t have to say it, he knew Calhoun was dead.