Autumn in Adelaide : Fiction

Kingdom Fell

1.
The trees lining the stretching sidewalk sprouted leaves of red, yellow and orange. The vain sunlight shone on the polished bricks, bathing the majestic buildings in an elderly gold. They sparkled. Everything seemed to come to life as nature and architecture bonded in holy matrimony. Man and wife. They had prettier babies.

The autumn wind sailed, brushed the maple trees and shook death off their crooked fingers. Leaves scattered all around their home ground, waiting for passers by with rhythmic clicks of their shoes to take them, crunch them into tinier pieces. Reviving death within death. Creating a more beautiful music. A symphony.

The frozen air hung at breast level. It tickled chills down humanity’s spines and breathed cold vapour in front of naked eyes. It stopped time in a bowl of sticky caramel, not even the pathetic hint of sunshine can wake the numb world.

The community ever so nonchalantly categorised into homes in various suburbans. Beelines shuffled from right foot to left and recycled cold for colder in their bodies, waiting for a bus that might be doing the last round. Others were just passing by to their next destination at the upcoming block.

Going somewhere.

Going nowhere.

Everyone knew their route home like the back of their hands. It was getting late. Dusk fell heavily on this part of the world, weighing the late shade of blues down like a work burden that would not go away after five.

The breeze put words in nature’s mouth to sing.

Go home.

Go home.

It was time to go home.

Buses came and left bloated with urbanites anticipating the day’s homecoming. Others had reached the other side at their destination. The soulless pavement was emptying. Slowly. Carefully.

 

2.
She picked the most unharmed maple leaf from the dampened ground, studied it thoroughly for a chewed hole or a torn limb before sandwiching the fragile piece in between the pages of her favourite novel.

She hugged the book close to her beating heart. She hid clenched fists at the fold of her elbows and tightened the red scarf around her neck. A scarf that was not even hers to begin with.

There was time to kill. No homecoming to go to. No destination to reach for. A young lady in her murderous red, she strolled down the stretching sidewalk littered with fallen leaves of red, yellow and orange, purposely stepped on them and crunched them into tinier pieces.

There were beelines categorised according to homes in various suburbans she would never belong to. Thus, she followed the human traffic pouring down the autumn street.

Going somewhere.

Going nowhere.

She tilted her blue face towards a hint of sunlight gleaming pathetically. What she anticipated to be at least a little hope of warmth was brutally suspended by a strong autumn wind. The vague golden glow vanished abruptly. Her silky brown locks whipped clear from her teary eyes.

She had to stop at the traffic light. The taller man beside her sighed audibly. She was tempted to follow suit but changed her mind to listen to a song people around her failed to hear. Nature’s own lullaby-like serenade that pat down dishevelled hair on weary heads.

Go home.

Go home.

It was time to go home.

She looked over her shoulder one last time at the trod journey. Buses came and left bloated with sleepy urbanites shrouded with fatigue. The soulless pavement emptied. Slowly. Carefully.

The annoying green signal sliced through the frozen air. In the end, she sighed aloud like the taller man. Her hesitant feet brought her across to the next block, abandoning this dark beauty for a better worse.