3 simple pieces of writing for next weeks writing course.
This time it’s all about the Bed. 150 words, on a bed from our childhoods, one from the present and a future bed, money no object. Here’s my attempts:
Four balls, blue and yellow, the colours split straight down the middle and held within a wooden frame by steel rods. Each sat waiting on a small spring for a hand to slap them down and catapult the balls up the length of the rod with a hiss and tickle of their tiny plastic beads inside. The bounce was hypnotic, their fall was a gentle vibrating collision of colour and sound. I could slap these things for hours on end. There was nothing else to do. Maybe grab the bars of the bed and rattle the hell out of them during the gaps in mothers incessant sewing machine pauses. Occasionally she’d hear me shouting about getting up, getting out, getting food, getting bored and getting ignored. Running up and down the length of a mattress covered in a piss sheet had a certain crinkling crispness which felt like an inch of new snow underfoot.
Too cold outside, too hot inside, irritation on one side, blocked airway on the other side. My toes munch and lick the foot board through the duvet cover, just enough to taste the air and wish I’d tucked in the end down there. One pillow, two pillow, one point five pillow, none. Folded once, scrolled twice in an attempt to find something nice under my neck line, but only held long enough to hear my noisy heart beat pad and jump. Did it just skip? It skipped, Oh my god, my heart just skipped a friggin beat. I think things are back to normal. But there’s an app for that. I flip out my phone and call up the ‘SleepCycle’ app which uses the sensitive internal gyroscope to track the motion of my heart. I need a strong pulse, so I lay the phone my forehead with my eyeballs almost pressing on the screen and stick my left hand down my pants and find the main artery on my upper thigh, and my right hand fingers up the snoring nostrils of my dearest, so I can hear the beat, feel the pulse and watch the rhythmic flow of the digital gauge rise and fall. After a few seconds I heard her say ‘what the hell are you doing?’. ‘It’s OK dear. We’re not dying’ I said.
In comparison… the sofa was very comfortable.
“Innovation has come a long way. Beds these days, don’t just support your body weight during sleep paralysis, they hold you’re entire family unit together. We aren’t dreaming here, we insert the dreams for you by a number of carefully positioned sensors in the head area. Gone are the days of springs and multi layered air pockets and foam tunnels, this baby multi adjusts continually throughout your sleep with 65 million molecular machines glazed in every microfibre. There was a time when bugs in the bed was seen as a bad thing. Today, you pay us to add more of them. But don’t worry, these things won’t be jumping out and scratching away at your skin with their nano-paws, no, they’ll be working away to rid the body of dead skin, pump up the existing tissue as well as identifying and destroying cancer cells. You actually wake up younger and healthier than when you went to sleep. I know, incredible. The best part is, it’s absolutely free. Nothing, no payment. You take it away today or we can deliver it for you. No catch, free return, yes, we collect. 24/7. Free shipping too. OK. Sure. You want to go for it? Certainly. OK then, all we need a signature for the release waiver. No Sir standard practice. Just so we’re all covered in the event of anything not working out like they did in the trials. Hello? Hello Sir? Hello? Damn it”