Natura Naturans, 3
This flash fiction continues, where it’s going I don’t know.
I stood their for a moment wondering what I was doing.
Because I was breaking into an old womans house.
I took a tea towel from the draining board that was covering some washing up, I suppose to keep the flies off, I have to assume that, it was the summer when the incident had happened.
I dropped my trousers and wiped the tiny grazes that had felt so painful, but appeared so insignificant. They seemed ok, in fact left to bleed they’d dry themselves out. Looking at my hands, the palms were running with blood.
I frantically looked around the room, aware I couldn’t run anywhere with my trousers around my ankles, I just needed something to help. I knew the cuts weren’t so bad as to panic but I wanted it to stop anyway, it would take days to sort them out. I also knew I’d be unable to tidy my abode in a practical manner, and that angered me, even more now I had injured broom holders.
It was hard enough having no water but what I had to do with bin bag was better served with healthy hands. Squatting was hard enough without fear of microbes entering cuts on my hands… yeah I know too much information. Sorry about that. But it is the end of the world, for me anyway. And I have a home to maintain.
I draw my trousers back to a sensible application of themselves, and I find in a cupboard some bandage along with a huge amount of tablets. I didn’t know what they were, but I loaded them all into the rucksack after wrapping bandage around my damaged hands. The knot tying I learned as a boy scout came in handy, split the end, wrap around and tie. I felt like a paramedic.
The rest of the cupboards paid dividends, tins galore. Not all facing front and in any semblance of order, but they were tins. Spaghetti, beans, soups. I also found a drawer full of packets of soups and pasta, it was like a post apocalyptic Christmas day.
Paranoia made me check her taps, just in case it was only myself that had no water but her taps were dry. For a second I felt relief, then I felt silly, then reality dawned upon me yet again.
I needed water. Find water dumbass.
What good is a Cuppa Soup without a cup of boiling water?
I thought that knowing I’d still eat the dry powder regardless and had to hold back a wry smile. Non of this crap is funny.
Time to find her water tank.
I was barely at the end of her hallway when I spotted a pair of legs, still wearing slippers lying up the stairs.
As I looked upon Old Margs corpse, I heard a thumping around of what sounded like trotters or hooves upstairs. I’m such a drama queen, it could be a dog.
I started to feel scared, and thirsty, and my snooker cue with the knife taped to it was still leaning against the wall outside.
I had to make a decision.
I crept back to the kitchen and decided to leave the window that I entered. Cold beans for tea felt good. I could find water later.
And as I crawled back up on to the draining board I heard a noise behind me. I looked back and amongst the noise of the stamping above me I could see Old Marg standing their looking back at me.
My rucksack was still on the floor in the kitchen, I think I can reach it.
This is what they call a difficult situation.