Mooquackwooftweetmeow

Concatenating zoölogical onomatopœia since 1999

About Mooquackwooftweetmeow

Hi! This is Mooquackwooftweetmeow, a collection of stuff by Greg K Nicholson.

Line of Sight

Suddenly I was bathed in light. I peered behind me to see; my whole body twisted in unison. Immediately it met my gaze, staring me right in the face.

For weeks the sun had been threatening to align, but in the end always seemed to show up just a little bit too far to the right, obscured by trees and buildings. Now, though, here it was, bang smack in my line of sight. Equinox—right on cue, as well.

Bed is a good place to sunbathe—the ultraviolet light can't penetrate glass. (I was never any good as an astronomer—I look directly at the sun all the time.)

Waves of hot air gushed out of the heater and danced steadily upwards, visible only as ripples of shade and light on the wall, blanketing the cracked plaster. Lush instrumental rock emanated from the other end of the room, coming from a wonderfully obscure radio station, as I lay on the bed. I noticed a hair I didn't realise I had, glowing white, backlit.

This was why they built Stonehenge.

The alignment only lasted an hour today. Even then, I had to creep closer and closer to the window, following it as it forged ahead, blissfully oblivious, heading away to the zenith in the south. As if staring at it forlornly would make it change its mind and come back.

It would, though.

Winter was over.

About this entry

A short narrative.

I published this entry on 19 March 2008 when I could've been in the pub. That means this is pretty old. Beware parachronisms.

Questions? Comments? Plaudits? Microblog at identi.ca/gregknicholson, or with the tag #mqwtm; or email me at lineofsight@gkn.me.uk.