She’s standing there on the bridge, wondering what life has still installed for her. She has done so many bad things, that by now there shouldn’t be anything else good left for her. And yet there he was, standing next to her, looking at the sea, like he didn’t have a care in the world. As if he wasn’t standing next to a paid assassin... But he didn’t know. Maybe he suspected that her life was more cloudy, that she leads the world to believe. That her behavior left too much to wonder. That she had too many secrets behind her eyes and the words she said. Behind smiles that weren’t always real, and reaction that didn’t always seem natural. She had great disguises, but sometimes even she slipped.
Thinking of anything in particular? – He asks. Staring at her face with a wide grin. She responds with a careful smile. She's not used to people being as kind as him. No double intentions, no secrets, no...
About lies… - she says, looking at the deep waters, as if they held the answers to her questions.
He frowns for a little while and then smiles, lifting his eyebrow.
Oh, I know you’re a liar.
She freezes for a moment. Blood suddenly stopping in her veins. She turns her head slightly, so he can just about see her profile.
How did you find out…? – She asks slowly, cautiously. All the while thinking just one single thought. The words bouncing in her and leaving her bruised. “I thought I would have longer… I thought there would be more time…”
Please, you’re not as mysterious as you think… I know that you know "squat"about fixing cars… The time that we met, that was just a lucky guess… - He says and she can feel small chunks of ice falling from her heart, finally defrosting her body and mind.
He didn’t know… She still had some time… She makes herself breathe and comes closer to him, nudging him against his shoulder. Trying to seem relaxed and playful.
Hey, I still have secrets… and I know about cars, bet I could fix one faster than you…
He laughs loudly and pulls her closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. And now she can really relax. His laugh feeling her insides with warmth. The remaining chunk of ice melting away and dripping slowly down to the ground, slipping past the wooden boards and dripping into the sea.
This wasn’t the day for the real truth. About who she was… this was a day about being truthful to her feelings… about how she felt about him. The time will come when she will have to confess about her past. But not today. No. Today she was just Jane.
A girl madly in love with a boy next door,
and not an assassin running away from her past...
This molten butter
soothes and hides
my open wounds -
pressed in butter
poured onto me,
leaving oily trails
under my chin.
I recall all
your brushed words
of melted butter
before you left,
with greasy crumbs
of vague regret.
She’s sitting on the sand, her eyes scanning the stormy sea, wind blowing through her tangled and wavy hair. Her legs are bend, knees close to her chest, arms spread loosely over them. She stares at the high waves clashing together with force, in some strange kind of almost surreal dance. The wind carries the breeze across her face, but she doesn’t seem to notice. Her mind occupied by thing much greater than the weather that surrounds her.
It’s getting colder as she sits there, on the beach, almost motionless. She’s alone there, nobody to bother her in any way and that’s the way she prefers it. Nothing to disturb her. No one to make her agitated and maybe even dangerous. She turns her face to the left, letting the wind blow straight at her. It feels good, the pure, natural force of the sea.
Of nature. She likes the intensity that comes with it, the possible consequences. The uncertainness of it all. The weather’s unpredictable and can be harmful. And so can she.
Her eyes wonder back to the sea, her feet sliding deeper into the sand. Her bare arms and legs, looking almost as white in the moonlight as her dress does. She looks down for a moment, inspecting the thin material, her outfit definitely not appropriate for the occasion. She shrugs her arms.
She doesn’t have to look to the other side to know what’s lying there next to her. She inhales intensely, feeling the sea inside her lungs. She doesn’t have to look, but her mind sees the heavy gun in the sand anyway. Right across her neatly spread shoes.
A pair of them laying on the sand and matching its color. The boots are worn out and have seen better days. Just like her. She came here to escape, but suspects that they’ve already found her.
Someone always does. Just a matter of time.
She’s been looking around the town from the day she arrived. On alert. Trusting no one. Never forgetting who she was and what that implied. Never forget. That’s what they taught her. Imagine the most unlikely scenario, the worst option possible and be ready for it. And she was. Even now. Especially when the rumors about two strangers in the city - driving in an old black Chevrolet - started to spread. But maybe that’s who they really were, just two “out of towners” passing by, on their way to a better location. Maybe. However unlikely.
She wasn’t born yesterday not to see the signs. And in a small city like this, you couldn’t just arrive unnoticed. Especially two men, no children, no luggage. Just faces, that only shoved reproach. Yes, those kind of people stood out. Especially in a hole like this, where everybody knew everybody. She didn’t even have to see them, to know who they were and why they came here. They came for her.
However she wasn’t too worried. This wasn’t her first “witch hunt”. And she was quite certain that they didn’t know how she looked. Oh yes, she made sure of that. Able to shift her appearance as she pleased. She was gifted in that area… and maybe just one more. That was irrelevant now. Now was the time for taking care of the basic stuff. For instance, it is very important to make sure, that you leave no evidence. Nothing that they can trace you after. Just the basic.
She looks at the gun, lying on the sand, next to her boots. She smiles. That would have been a sure giveaway, no doubt. The place that she was staying in, was cleaned out of all personal belongings, leaving just the safe, day to day elements. They will come, find nothing and eventually leave. If not, she knew what to do. She was prepared for them.
Funny how they always thought they were keeping it low, “being on top of things”. Thinking that they had it covered and people would forget all about them, the moment they left the scene. Amusing indeed. The pure assurance of being professional and instead just being obvious.
Of course, there were also other types. The one’s that just didn’t care if there was any error in their skillful technique. Some were just too “above it” to actually take the time in minding the simple civilians. After all, what does it matter when you’re working for the government. If anything goes wrong, you just cover it up… or get rid of the unwanted witness. Just a shrug of shoulder and you’re good to go.
She suddenly furrows her eyebrows. Possibilities roaming around in her mind. Lazily at first, then with more speed. It’s never wise to undermine you’re opponent. Yes, that would have been foolish; even if the enemy seemed pretty much harmless. There could be others, though they usually kept it small. Forming small hunting groups. No more than two, three people at once. Playing it safe.
Just as she should.
The wind started to blow with more intensity then before and she finally noticed how cold it was. Colder then she thought. The chilly air sending goose bumps down her bare shoulders. It was time to go home. She smiled again as she slowly picked up her shoes. Lifting the gun from the sand and placing it on one of the shoes. For now. After all she was in an open space. Precautions had to be taken. There was no real danger of something happening to her. Only the fret of someone else getting hurt, when crossing her path.
Not that it was necessary. She knew how to take care of things peacefully. Calmly and in a proper manner. No victims, no fuss. Her motto. In the end she was a very peaceful creature.
A modest smile stays on her lips, as she quietly leaves the scene.
Ready for anything that will come her way.
I want so badly to pack my bags and leave
All I want to feel is the whiskey in my drink
I’m surrounded by animals with dreams
The whitest collar the rise of dying breeds
(...) And I got you right
where I want you anyway
Oh I got you right
where I want you anyway
“White Collar Whiskey” by Emily Wolfe
Welcome to the social abattoir
On Earth we have fat shaming
and cultural flaming
People mask truths to project lies
trying whatever socially satisfies
cutting loose their free thinking ties
dipping greedy fingers in all the pies
habitually okay with less-than-advertised
observing so little despite wide open eyes
health care for profit
chocolate like love
and salaries gapping
slapping inclines of animal extinction
distinction with divides
pesticides in plants
and chants of revenge
carnage dressed up like justice
treachery for hire
and dire poverty
On Earth we have democratic sabotage
cruelty as camouflage
killers with an entourage
and insider arbitrage
People ignore what they don't want to see
acting the part of whoever they want to be
not always minding the effects they have on we
talking through others like a logger cuts a tree
consumerly caught up in the campaign of "free"
making some selfish choices same as every me
Me eats the last bite
fight for me own truth
uncouth for stress relief
and brief to save time
grime swept into the gutter of me mind
kind for return of favor
savor rather than thank
and bank on gluttony
company line in the name of a paycheck
|| another_proser ||
(This is part 1; the darker side of things.)
(Keep an eye out for part 2; the brighter side of things.)
#poetry #culture #opinion #part1 #rhyme
Darkness. Just deep purple darkness. Covering my body from foot to toe.
Keeping me under and making me fight for air. Where am I? What happened?
I force myself to find the light. To find my eyelids so I can be again. It takes all of my strength to wake up and when I do... the world seems to be an even darker place.
I gaze at the space before me, look around and scream at the top of my lungs.
Cold ice filling my lungs, terror sipping through my veins. My worst nightmare coming true and tearing me apart into tiny pieces.
Dead. Just a ghost now, a shadow of a being.
This is all that’s left of me.
How Fast it all ended, when I wasn’t even looking.
These were my first conscious thoughts when the shock had finally worn off.
It was strange to see my body lying in the morgue, half covered in a black bag. A death certificate lying on a table nearby. The ink on the paper still looked fresh. As if the body didn’t lie there too long. As if I just died... maybe that was true, I couldn’t tell, because I had no memory of actually dying.
I spend hours there. Just looking at myself. Staring as if that could change something. As if my stare alone could make that body move and set the spirit inside in motion. Like some of this actually made any sense. Like I still had a choice.
I lie on the floor of the morgue, drifting into unconsciousness and drifting back to it. Like my spirit wasn’t sure if it wanted to stay or leave. My soul somehow stuck in between. Trapped in a daze, stranded in a strange alternative of a life. I could feel my vibes getting stronger and weaker, always shifting, almost flowing in the air. Vibrating through time and space. It was really hard to grab onto something, anything that I could use as an anchor. Maybe there was no longer anything to hold on to.
I looked one last time at the body that was once mine. That belonged only to me, a body that would now lie in the ground and me... I would just... I make myself focus on this reality, on the world I was leaving behind. I needed to say goodbye, because somehow I felt as if that was the thing that was still keeping me from the final absence.
The simple realization of the fact that I was dead.
That I could no longer change anything.
As I came closer to myself, to the girl that was once me. I bent slightly to touch my own hand. To give that one last touch, a farewell. My faded fingers slipped through the stiff flash and my eyes started to water. Could ghosts cry? Was that even possible?
Was it just my imagination, or a basic memory of the person that I was?
As my spirit reaches her skin, I can feel a difference. I shift. The smallest of triggers.
My eyes turning wider as my silent voice gasps for air... this can’t be... it’s too late.
Yet my eyes can’t be wrong. This was really happening. The body was moving. It’s color returning ever so slowly, just a little blush on the cheeks. Eyelids parting. A small finger twitching, the one that I touched.
The room is still.
The silence shattering through my mind. My head feeling like it will explode at any moment... not possible. Too quiet. Too still. Dead.
But it’s happening, the body returning to life.
Just barely. And still, it does, just another short moment which seems like an eternity... a dark hole sucking me in, frozen just on the edge of dreams.
Stuck. Frozen. Never moving forward.
And when all seems to be lost the girl moves, takes a shallow, frantic breath.
She’s alive. This means that... I stare at her, feeling even stranger that before. If that was even imaginable. I come closer as she looks around panicked. Disorientated. Her eyes still empty. Not quite alive. She looks as if she’s searching for something. So desperate.
She looks up and finally notices me as if I was real too.
There’s a strange sensation in my... in my body. Yes, I could feel it. I feel her lungs as she inhales in deeply. I can hear her heartbeat as it pulsates through my ears. I feel her stare as her eyes burn through mine... as my eyes burn hers just the same .
I feel everything.
I can feel myself walking up to her, without making a single step. I get closer and reach her in just seconds. My fingers drifting to her. Touching her skin. My skin.
Because I was never dead in the first place. It was just a trick.
A plan that was meant for me, to stay alive when everything went wrong.
My back-up plan.
Some poisons were hard to find in the human body.
Almost untraceable, able to fool those around.
Desive the audience that the body was dead. When indeed it was only in deep slumber.
And now, I was back and it was time for payback.
You fooled me once sweetheart, shame on me.
You fooled me twice...
”...tetrodotoxin, a powerful neurotoxin that on top of having no antidote tends to kill people as soon as they ingest it. By taking a dose of this poison, person’s heart rate and breathing supposedly will slow down to virtually nothing, making people believe that the person is actually dead...”
ps. it only works in spy movies ;)
fun fact about amnesia is that...
...it gets you into trouble
Tara just called… - he puts the phone down and sits on the sofa, once again diving into his work; his fingers tapping away with ease and speed. He looks relaxed, even though it’s work and I just stand there like an idiot. Trying too seem casual an relaxed myself. Pretending that I know exactly who’s he talking about. Tara who?
Oh? – I lean against the kitchen countertop, faking deep interest in the newest issue of “Cosmo”. My eyes drifting past the article, finding my old interests irritating. How can I have a whole stacks of this in the house. Bunch of rubbish.
Yeah, she tried to reach you on the cell… but apparently there’s something wrong with your phone…? – He asks distracted, probably filling up charts or some other thrilling alternatives.
Uh hmm, there’s something wrong with the battery – I say in a straight voice, stuffing my face with an apple, so I don’t say anything embarrassing . The real problem was, that I couldn’t actually find my phone in the first place, having no idea where I usually put it… and the dam thing dying in the process. Which kind of made my story true. Ok, true-ish.
Well then, you better get it fix – he doesn’t really sound too concerned – She’s coming over tomorrow, said too tell you : “ She’s in a mood for chinese spice and some casual red” – he finishes shaking his head. Rolling his eyes and making fun of “our” secret language.
Alright… tomorrow it is – I furrow my eyebrows. Well then, I guess I’m entertaining a dinner party with a “new” friend visiting. How nice. Another chance to expand my acting skills with an audience of two. More lies and “straight faces” to add to my portfolio… One of these days, I was going to have too confess about my current condition. I sigh. Every time I think about doctors roaming in my head, I cringe and want to hide under the nearest rock and hiss at people too scare them off.
Hmm, Tara. Sounds like the place from Gone with the wind… not that was useful in anyway. So, another name to add to the list. My little red notebook was getting full, really fast. And I wasn’t really getting any smarter in the process.
I just look at her, doing everything in her power to get closer to him: “Oh look at that, you have some dust on your shirt… you seem tense, I’ll give you one of my signature massages… how’s work, saving the PR world… stopping viruses from spreading…? – and so on and on, never getting tired. The fact that Matt ignores her completely is beyond the point. Even if he had a gun to scare her off, I would still be annoyed. So, is this how she always acts? Am I normally fine with this, or do I just don’t care? I shake my head and sip on the wine, not really enjoying it. Tara brakes away ( with big difficulty) from Matt and looks at me relaxed, like a cat which just ate the cream (well, I finally understand the phrase and I’m not thrilled by it much).
Anything wrong sweetie? – She asks, smiling in a lazy way. Hmm, nice of her to finally notice me. About time… Honestly, I’m just waiting until she decides to stretch out and show of her body, while her skirt rides up and her top shifts in every direction… not that my husband would actually notice, he seemed to be more attracted to his Power Point presentation than the size of her bra. I guess having a computer nerd in the house had its advantages after all.
No, I’m fine – barely – Just not much in the party mood today.
Party? Honey, you can hardly call this a big fiesta. It’s more of a get- together than anything else. Trust me, I would know.
Yeah, well… – My mind goes blank for a moment, when I notice the fingers of her hand still stroking his forearm. The picture is so unnerving that I forget what I wanted to say.
From what I’m seeing, you didn’t get enough of your daily amount of endorphins today. I told you, if you skip gym and had straight for the sales, this will happen – She gives a little laugh and slowly diverts her attention back to the only male specimen in the house.
I stare at her for a moment too long and she gives me an odd look. Was this the right time to mention, that I didn’t really leave the house for almost a week and a half… not counting the garden and a few attempts at going round the block… panicking from every sudden move or noise… including the time when I got scared by a seven year old and screamed like mad woman… scaring the kid in the process… which had been giving me disapproving stares every time I got the nerve to step out of the safety of my home. Yeah, I wasn’t particularly proud of that one. Hmm, somehow I doubted that running away from embarrassment would count as going to the gym. I clear my throat.
No, it’s not that. I just have a lot on my mind lately – the understatement of the year. I wave my hand as if saying; It will pass, don’t sweat.
Like what? Anything I should know… some dirty secrets you want to share? – I stare at her and my mood drops even more. I should have known that this topic would catch her attention. I glance at Matt and notice him starring at me too – just for a moment before his job consumes him again. Great, all I needed. MORE attention. So now I had two people, to look at me like a mad woman.
No, nothing as exciting – I say, turning away from my audience and putting the water on. Deciding that ditching the wine, would be the best option now. Who knew what I was going to blurb out next when the licker kicked in – Want some tea?
Tea? Wow, there really must be something wrong with you – She says, putting a hand to her mouth and pretending to be horrified. – Are you sure you’re not sick?
Very funny – I roll my eyes and wonder if getting hit on the head and forgetting who you were, counted as a sickness. Yeah, it probably did. Just not the kind, that you could cure with warm tea and a three day’s rest.
It kind of is… - she smiles again and turns to my husband. No longer interested in our little chit-chat – So, Matt… how’s your gym time. Getting the endorphins running?
No, no gym – He furrows his eyebrows as the sound of an incoming e-mail comes out of his heavenly box of joy.
And somehow you look like you attend it 24/7 – she says, almost purring out the words and I’m pretty sure some small vein in my body just snapped.
No, just the swimming pool… after work – he mutters, tapping away and drinking his coffee. The third one this evening.
Well it shows – she answers approvingly, nodding her head – Though I’ve got to admit, it’s hard to believe; considering the time you spend on that thing – she taps on the laptop and It’s the first time he looks up in a long time and gazes at her. She’s thrilled. I try to breathe evenly and not throw anything at her face.
I keep a balance between work and everything else – He shrugs his shoulders and adjusts the computer. Tara smiles and heads back to her original tactics. Relaxing on the sofa and finding excuses to touch my husband every chance she gets.
Is your laptop working okay? – He asks and it takes me a moment to react, my attention focusing on the enemy. I look at him and try to remember what he just said.
Yeah, I guess so… – it worked just fine, even when I started to hit it with frustration, over and over again. Not finding all the answers I needed. I would probably find more information on my phone, but that idea died a long time ago… since I couldn’t really find it.
Hmm, mine seems to be a bit off… mind If I use yours later? – He asks, giving me a full stare and I just shrug.
Sure, go right ahead – it was just a computer, what was the big deal about… oh right, I forgot. I’m living with mister PR and corporation inc.
My gaze drops back to Tara and of course she’s back at it again. She picks the remote control and flicks the channels, not really seeming to care what was on. Her head drops on his shoulder and her hand slips though his arm, as she makes herself comfortable. A small grin stretching on her face. She bends her legs and shifts them under, the skirt that she’s wearing rolling up slightly.
I can feel the outburst coming, as my agitation grows. Why don’t she just throw herself at him. Oh, that’s right she already did. My fingers tense on the counter, as my pulse quickens. A part of me tries be rational about, but that part is getting quieter and quieter by the second.
Tara ? – I start almost innocently.
Yeah ? – She asks distracted, apparently enjoying the situation.
Have you always been hitting on my husband, or did I just noticed it now ?
There’s a short moment of silence, followed by the noise of my husband choking on his coffee and spilling some of it on his laptop in the process. I raise an eyebrow and drop my piercing gaze from my “new” friend.
I’ll get the cloth – I say, without any emotions, like nothing really happened. As if I didn’t just throw a bomb in the room. Instead I just get a paper towel and hand it to him.
So any thoughts? – I turn my stare to Tara again – I mean don’t get me wrong, I think it’s harmless what you’re doing… I’m just worried about you. I wouldn’t want you to get a cold.
A cold ? – She asks a bit perplexed.
Oh yes, I know it’s almost summer but still; with a skirt as short as yours, it’s just a matter of time before you catch “something”.
You know, you don’t have to be rude about it. I’m just having a little fun, that’s all. It’s not like you said anything before - she says matter of fact, her tone accusing.
We stare in silence for a minute, waiting for each other’s reaction. Tension building in the air and making the hair on my arms stand up. I exhale slowly and try to shake off the deep frown that’s probably stitched permanently into my face by now. I was supposed to be the gracious and perfect hostess after all. Not someone ready to start a riot… I picture myself on a stage, with a sharp dagger ; speaking some over dramatic lines. This wasn’t the time or place to play ‘Lady Macbeth’ at a dinner party. Oh yes, I can already imagine the menu for such an occasion. Tonight’s special: ‘medium-rare rage with fresh spring jealousy ’ followed by some ‘sweet revenge’ for desert… Alright, another quick breath, inhale- exhale action and an almost convincing natural smile.
You’re right, I guess I’m a bit grumpy today… - putting it mildly, grumpy being an euphemism for raging jealousy that I had no idea was inside of me – I hadn’t really had enough sleep lately…
Which wasn’t exactly a lie in itself. I’ve been sleeping badly… since I lost my memory, my entire world and life collapsing all together into million little pieces.. you know, stuff like that. Tara looks unsure of herself, but tries to be civil as well. Probably more for Matt’s benefit than mine. She straightens her back slightly and pulls down her skirt for effect.
Yeah, I get that and I probably had too much to drink. You know how I am… silly little old me.
I smile pleasantly at her and she does the same. My gaze drops down to Matt and I blink a couple times. Funny that none of us exactly noticed him in the process. I look back at “the friend” and she stares at him too. Hmm, he doesn’t even look up’ too busy tapping away fiercely on his computer. Trying to ignore the whole situation and the world around him… still munching on the rest of his – now cold - diner. I cross my arms and try to stay calm and no longer act like a sociopathic bitch from hell. Feeling a bit guilty around the edges… okay, a lot guilty now that my rage has dropped and I could once more think more or less rationally.
So… - I clear my throat – How about some dessert than?
I wouldn’t mind – It’s the first time my husband actually speaks and I sigh in relief –
What did you order?
I didn’t – I say glancing at Tara, which doesn’t seem to be as pleased. Cringing her nose slightly, As if the ‘desert’ word was may be toxic somehow – I made it, from scratch.
From scratch? – He asks, like he doesn’t understand.
Yeah, took me a while… - I stop myself form saying that it took me so long , because I didn’t know my way around the kitchen and had no idea where everything was – Anyway, I baked a cherry pie… we had some cherry’s in the fridge so I thought I would use them…
Well, I’m not really a fan… – Tara breaks in, not seeming surprised that I baked something… or just not caring altogether . She starts to get up.
Wait, you made an actual pie, you? – Matt seems to be stuck in one though only. He shakes his head, finally not looking at his laptop and ignoring a phone call. I stare at him, puzzled. What now? Did I miraculously start to cook just now, or was I just lazy? Either way it was considered rude too stare like that.
Besides all those calories… - My friend still raves on, like nobody else had spoken. She wants to add something, but notices my changing expression and sits down abruptly – But why not…
I can feel the frown return. I didn’t know what was more irritating, my husband’s reaction , Tara’s attitude or her clothes.
Alright then – I add after a moment, making an attempt to sound cheerful and failing miserably. I back away to the kitchen and start to cut the pie, irritation spilling out of me; the knife in my hand making a lot of noise every time it hits the metal baking form.
So we spend the rest of the evening in a calmer atmosphere, eating dessert – well Matt does, we women feed exclusively on negative energy - and keeping casual small talk. Talking about insignificant things and pretending once again that nothing really happened. My husband throwing odd looks from his food. I try really hard not be offended. It wasn’t exactly rocket science or anything. I had all the ingredients and a fancy – unused – cookbook, which I actually didn’t use when I think about it… Honestly, why make such a fuss.
So, I’m guessing its edible…? - I ask sarcastically as he goes for the third piece. He looks at me suspiciously, as if this is some kind of a trick but digs in anyway. Some of the filling still in the corner of his lips. Tara just plays with her food , like the spoiled brat that she is - and I’m saying this with all the warmth in my heart … well, that’s the version I’m going with - not really eating much.
And that’s how our evening ends. In a casual way, politely and pretending to be civil. I get up, clear the table and put the dishes to the sink, while Tara runs off, giving out fake smiles and blowing kisses in the air… fake towards me anyway, leaving the smell of expensive perfume behind her...
talking to the “author”
So, I've heard that you're writing something new?
Uhm... - grumbles from the laptop.
Anything good...? - asks the friendly meddler.
Oh, yes. Very interesting, a lot of plot, action and romance/comedy and a lot of... - keeps talking, gesticulating wildly with her hands up in the air, her eyes still on the laptop, eyebrows furrowed as she tries to make a character do as he's told... and failing.
Facing definite rebellion as she writes.
That sounds great ! - unnecessary enthusiasm from the listener.
Sure, sure... - the sound of angry taping against the keyboard fills the room.
So how's it going to end ? - another question to interrupt the writing process.
Hmm... got absolutely no bloody idea... - click, click, click... tap, tap, tap on the laptop.
But aren't you the writer... the author of the story? If not you, then who, right? - The meddler sounds confused and dubious at the same time.
She finally looks up, her glasses reflecting the blue screen in front of her. She looks calmly and smiles for the first time this evening.
Oh, honey... I have no idea... I make this up as I go... didn't you know? - her smile turns darker and seductive somehow.
Why are you looking at me like that? - He asks nervously, loosening his up his tie.
No reason... just came up with a new character... a victim in a suit... perfect... now the rest of the story finally makes sense.
She looks one last time at him and starts to write again. A new lead to her story unraveling before her. Her characters filling up her head with new lines and a lot of snide comments.
The "author" taps away, the smile still on her lips.
Mistakes will cost you...
There's a man outside of my window, lurking in the dark... big mistake. You really shouldn't creep around in the shadows, where a helpless woman lives. That would make her very nervous... if she was around that is. Because I am nothing of the sort. I look forward to a challenge and enjoy a little midnight exercise. I wonder if he has a gun... he wouldn’t come un armed would he now?
That would be such a disappointment. I wonder silently who he is and creep alongside a wall, close to the window. I stop a couple of meters away and slower my breathing. My eyes adjusting to the faint light of the moon. Always tricky with the extra light, you never know when it can cause you unnecessary trouble... I narrow my eyes and I start to think about the possibilities.
Was he send by the agency, ready to eliminate the problem? Because there were many who had me on their hit list. Many who tried and failed. I have been around for too long to get trapped by a simple intruder. Funny how they almost assume I will be unprepared and caught of guard. Sleeping in my bed, so fragile and peaceful in sweet, sweet slumber... how foolish.
I slide carefully against the wall, getting closer to the glass surface with every step...not even bothering to get my gun, too much of a fuss. I stare at the man behind my window and wonder if he was alone or has he brought some help with him... oh well, more the merrier. I smile lightly, my confidence growing. Who could this be? I outstretched my neck and take a closer look as the intruder shifts to the left, his profile not as clear as I hoped. His face half lost in a shadow. I step back, as he comes closer to the window, his nose almost touching the glass. He stares for a little while, then backs away. His head shaking with disapproval.
Did he expect me to keep the light up for him, and was disappointed because of such a cold welcome?
The man moves away another step and reaches to a beg, I didn’t notice before. I furrow my eyebrows as he reaches in the bag and pulls out a torch light. Wow, the guy was all class and subtlety. He wasn’t actually going to…
I blink a couple of times as the torch light almost blinds me, as its light swipes against my eyes and body. I stare as him, ready to attack or run away... whichever would be more necessary... and then I freeze. My body still as a statue. It's an unusual reaction for me, usually I don’t get myself surprised like this... but since the all dark and creepy intruder decides to smile and wave at my in a very happily manner... I just stand there like an idiot not sure what to do... and then my mind starts to work on high speed. My eyes scanning him like a professional ex-ray.
I had a blackout, probably the entire town did. I lived alone and far away from everyone… So if something happened I didn’t have any chances of getting help. Which didn’t really trouble me. I could take care of myself. I was trained for much worse. However the good people of this town might consider this a chance to come to the rescue... like him. The helpful guy, which I helped with his car... and probably decided to take this opportunity to pay me back. The damsel in distress, who needed assistance. Struggling without electricity and any phone signal in this place far from everything.
He waves again and I roll my eyes. Honestly... you help a guy out and he considers it his job to be your savior. This is why I don’t do good deeds. It just messes everything up... I wave back and had to the front door.
The nerve of some people...
Memory (part 2)
(...) I back up from the window and sit down again as a fresh memory hits me – his hand on the alarm clock, a gold ring on his finger... My husband. So strange.
My head is spinning and so is the rest of the world. I band down and put my head between my legs. After awhile it helps a little so I straighten up again. How was this possible? Something told me that this wasn’t the last time that I was going to ask this question. My house… and my husband.
Hmm, I was pretty much sure that I wasn't married… and the same time I was sure that I was. Very confusing. I look around a bit frantic and to tell the truth, also a bit paranoid by now. Ready to see a pair of children at any moment. Storming through the door, jumping up and down on the bed… probably with a big golden retriever in the back, barking at everyone.
For a moment I stare at the door, frozen in place; ready for anything… yet nothing happens. The house is completely still and silent. Only the sounds from the street breaking through. Well, that doesn’t necessarily mean that the house is empty. Someone might be still be asleep… I step out of the room cautiously, trying to be as quiet as possible.
Hmm, if it turned out I did have kids, there was going to be one really awkward breakfast scene coming up... I move along a long corridor and pass two doors and in the end decide not to open either of them. I already had too many happy surprises today and it’s still early. Better save some energy and a future heart attack for later.
Can’t be too greedy after all.
I head for the stairs, my hand sliding against a banister as I go. My eyes scanning the place, looking at the white walls and the sun falling through a narrow, yet a quite tall window. I ignore the pictures in black frames, hanging on the walls; not ready yet to find out my life story. As I go down the stairs, another sour thought crosses my mind. I probably wouldn’t even know, if I was on any of those pictures – since I didn’t really know how I looked… I mean, I had a general idea… at least body wise. My legs were long and lean, skin a bright, slightly tanned color and I seemed to fit the door easy enough, but that wasn’t going to do, not even close…
As I reach the last step, I notice the front door and suddenly I’m very weary. A nasty suspicion, that I might be locked out, held against my will after all. I imagine the heavy lock and all the bolts holding the door. For a moment I even expect to see one of those locks, that’s usually used to hold a heavy metal chain together. As I head slowly down the hallway, to my – maybe only - way out, I pass a big, tall mirror but ignore it completely. The fear growing with every passing second. I finally reach the entrance and notice that it’s just a normal door. No chains, no iron bars holding the frame.
Even more, it looks so plain, that I’m almost disappointed… but still a bit suspicious. I reach the handle and push it down. Nothing happens. I’m about to turn on my panic mode again and start to freak even more, when I notice two – normal looking – bolts. I twists them slowly and they turn almost effortlessly.
I push the handle again and the door opens with ease. I stare at it for a moment and eventually lean forward, my head sticking out. With my expression and head turning franticly from left to right, I probably look like a cartoon character. I stare at the view… just a normal neighborhood, houses on both sides of the street. Little traffic, a couple of cars parked next to the curve and “happy” green laws next to them. Living the dream at the suburbs – I think sarcastically, my eyebrows twisted. I move back, my head slowly disappearing into the house, the doors closing with a gentle click.
Well, this was not at all what I expected. And if it was a good or a bad thing… well, I still had to find that out for myself.
( I decided to use a short story to explain my take on “Suspension of Disbelief” )
I lay there for few more minutes under the covers, eyes shut. Mind confused and my fists clenched. I really was behaving irrationally. A crazy woman with memory problems. I can’t just lie here like a coward – worse than that – like a five year old, afraid of the monsters under the bed. I unclench my fingers and drum them against the mattress.
This is ridiculous. I’m a grown up woman, perfectly capable of rational and mature decisions. I can’t just stay here for all eternity. I finally lift myself to a sitting position and the covers slip from my head and fall gently down my torso. I slip my feet to the ground and touch the cold wooden floor. I take one last conscious breath and get up.
I will not stay in this bedroom all day, there is nothing to be afraid of. And why should there be? After all this is my house. I freeze for a moment, not sure where the thought came from. My house? Why did I think that? I don’t even know where I am.
I stand there in the middle of the room, consternated and more confused than ever before… if that’s even possible. Why did I even…? I look at the space around me and the strangest feeling comes over me. Confidence. I don’t know why, but I’m perfectly sure that this really is my house. I can’t explain it, yet I know that it’s true. Is my memory returning? No, that’s not it. It doesn’t feel like an actual memory.
It’s just an assurance.
I head slowly to the window and lift a curtain. I look outside at the peaceful neighborhood and then down at the driveway. At a place where the tires made a visible imprint. I stare at it for a moment and think about the man, who left those marks on the road. I lift my left hand and look at it closely. There’s a faint, rounded stripe on my second finger. The skin in that place is paler than the rest of the hand.
I flex my fingers and once more stare at the window and the feeling of assurance comes over me once more. The man that had just left the house, isn’t really a stranger… or a kidnapper for that matter. Furthermore, I am perfectly sure I know him, even if today I saw him for the first time in my life.
I don’t know how, but once again I know it’s the truth. The man I laid next to and was so terrified of… that man was my husband.