Summer Solstice (Man & Beast)

Chapter One

I poured myself a bowl of cereal. I think it was muesli, but it easily could have been something else.

I looked down at the various dried nuts and fruit as they tumbled from out of the cardboard box when my peripheral caught sight of a bird swooping down into my garden. I was immediately mesmerised by the feathered creature. But before I knew it, my bowl was full and overflowing onto the kitchen surface and floor. I looked back to see if the bird was still there, but it had flown away. I think it was a pigeon, but it easily could have been something else.
I proceeded to find a dustpan and brush, but my hunger got the better of me, and I found myself at the fridge.

I took out the milk, full cream as usual and returned to my mountain of cereal along with its tremendously erupted mess! Upon opening the milk I noticed a stale rind around the lid which had turned a sour yellow in colour, and as I twisted the cap loose lots of dried milk segments fell off into my ridiculously sized bowl of cereal, along with the lid; I somehow lost grip of it, like you do so often with inanimate objects.

Before I could remove some of the now unobtrusive, dried milk particles, and the apparent lid, I was greeted with an unfathomable stench of gone-off-milk, which more closely resembled a disgusting cheese I had once sampled many years ago.

I looked at the date of the milk (best before 26/04) and thought a puzzled curiosity towards the date of which today was known.

"What date is it today?" I asked myself out loud.
I swiftly exited the kitchen and marched towards the living room.

I manually turned on the television as I couldn't find the remote control. I then switched between each station trying to find a news channel of some sort but only ever uncovered pixel scatterings of fuzzy black and white. It started to give me a headache. So I turned the old CRT off and crouched the same bemused thought as my last.

"What date is it today?"

I quickly stood up straight and noticed something I swear I had never seen before; I began to stare doltishly at an old picture which hung irregularly in the corner of my living room. It was no larger than an average sized book. I think the exact dimensions were seven by five inches, but it easily could have been something else.

I couldn't take my eyes off it, and I wasn't entirely sure why.

The composition itself had noticeably faded through time, and small concentrations of dust had built up customarily around the frame. The now weathered colours consisted of dark browns, iridescent reds, murky pinks, strange greyed-out blacks, and forgotten faded tints of white.
The picture was that of an old-ish man, perhaps in his late fifties. He had below his nose, a thick, prickly crescent of a moustache. He wore black leathered mining gear, complete with cap, and looked decidedly thin. The man was shown to be crouched down stroking a very large dog, perhaps a St. Bernard, which had upon its body, shackles, or reigns of some sort. There was snow on the floor, a few overturned rocks were visible, and an old style tent was erected scarcely behind them both. The old man was looking down at the dog, and the dog back up at him with a captivating embrace of warmth, love, and care for one another.

However, I thought to myself "Not just a man and his dog" as there was also an uneasy air of misgiving stained between both expressions for one another. And to me this suggested they had either just been through the worst, or further bad times lay ahead.
I genially walked over to the portrait to correct its unbalanced state and continued to frequent myself with the images' timeless luxuriance.
It wasn't till a passing car outside squeaked to an impressive stand-still and bellowed out its unmelodious horn, that I remembered what I was doing prior to my tableau encapsulation.

Although by then it was dark outside, I was almost certain I had just awoken to start the day off with a bowl of cereal.