A05 – On the Hill
I opened my eyes. It must have been right at the crack of dawn. I saw the first sun beams peeking through the forest up on the hill.
Sitting up I felt the grass around me. It was wet from morning dew.
I had no idea how I got here. What happened last night. And where I was.
I stood up and felt my clothes, my legs and my socks. All completely dry, and slightly warm to the touch, as though I had been sunbathing, rather than lying in wet gras.
My surroundings felt oddly familiar. Yet wherever I looked, everything was different from how I remembered it.
Rubbing my eyes, I turned to around.
There, the shed we used to have. And to its side our old garden plot, bursting with flowers I do not recall we ever planted. They did not look like flowers I had ever seen.
Walking around the shed I discovered another entrance at the back.
Then I looked again.
It was a miniature version of the house the boys grew up in. I had seen pictures of it in an old album.
Beyond the garden I saw a several deer grazing the meadow. I walked over and what appeared to be the oldest and largest of the herd raised his head and started to talk:
"A very good morning to you, miss."
I responded in kind and wanted to ask...
"You are mistaken. They are not cowbells. They are deerbells.
Almost the same.
But completely silent.
See?!"
He shook his head. The bell spun around his neck without any noise.
"What do you wear these for?
"We like to have breakfast in style."
All members of his group stretched their necks up high to display different sizes, colors and shapes of bells they owned.
"And besides, if the bells made the usual ruckus, it would drive our neighbors crazy."
He nodded towards the shed, and as though he sensed my next question he continued:
"Speaking of witch...
You had better go inside. She tends to get uneasy when folks don't come at the designated time."
With that he turned back his meal.
I walked up to the small house and knocked at the door.
There was no answer.
I noticed then that there was no handle either.
I knocked again.
Still nothing.
I gave the door a little push.
It was not locked.
There was an elderly lady sitting at tiny desk facing me. The room was completely dark except for two small candles on either end of the tabletop.
"Why, good morning." She attempted to smile.
"We have been waiting all day for you."
"Oh. You have?"
I never met the old woman.
The name tag she wore for a hat read "Irma K. (Mrs)." I never met anyone by that name.
She gave me a stern look and shook her head.
"Enough with the questions.
My turn."
She kept her stare on my face.
"Would you like some coffee, dear?" And just like that she was smiling kindly at me. She gave off the impression that she was terribly busy and had no time to chat.
"Yes, please. That would be lovely."
She snapped her fingers and from behind her rose a purple tiger. It was too dark to make out the color of the stripes on its fur.
The tiger opened one of the desk drawers with its paws and reached inside with its snout.
When it lifted its head, I could see it now had a stick or, no, that's a bone, in its mouth. And with it operated a small tray that like a marionette. On it there was a small cup on a saucer and a steaming pot. With ease it walked over to me and started to pour the coffee.
"Black. No sugar, please." I wanted to say.
But the look in the tiger's eye stopped me. He gave me the impression that my presence here was nothing but a complete nuisance to him.
"It's the only kind we have, Miss" he smiled at me.
"Thank you." I took the steaming cup really strong, dark, oily coffee.
"With that out of the way..."
The lady closed the heavy ledger in front of her and lifted it to the side.
She took the book that was underneath and blew a layer of dust from its cover.
"This one's for you, Jules".
No one besides Franklin ever called me that.
"How do you... Do I know you? Do you know me?"
"No. And no." she responded as indifferently as she pulled the ledger back in front of her. "I merely pass on the message someone left for you."
There was indeed a barely legible note stuck to it. I did recognise the handwriting as the shorthand Franklin uses when he scribbles in his notebook.
"He never told me he started it. Let alone finished it."
I said mostly to myself.
"It's not finished.
But by the time you get to the end it will be."
"Would he not have to go back and change things?"
This made no sense to me.
"Whatever you say, dear."
She said mostly to the ledger she pulled back in front her.
"Is there anything else you would like to read?"
She seemed not so much annoyed. It appeared that I was merely a menial task to get over with.
"Do you have..."
"Yes!"
She interrupted me before I could ask. Maybe she was at least a little bit irritated by my alleged lie-in earlier.
"It is not a question of 'if'."
I was not sure if I understood but decided to give it a shot:
"I'm looking for the first edition of 'Bird by the Lake'."
"Would you like to read it yourself or have it read by the author?"
I was both taken aback by that question as well as the fact that meant someone might stop me from smelling and tasting the book."
Not even Franklin could appreciate when I licked the books he lent me.
"Now. If you will excuse me..." she waved me away with her hand, her already face buried back into the pages on her desk.
"You can make yourself comfortable in the reading room. It down the hall, to the left."
I wanted to ask her about the book.
There so many more questions I wanted to ask her.
Any attempt to grab her attention was in vain.
It was as though I had vanished into thin her as far as she was concerned.
I decided to go and look for the room she suggested.
There I found who I assumed to be the author who in a very thick accent said:
"Please, miss. Make yourself comfortable.
I take it you would like to hear the original version."
With what I hoped was a grateful smile I simply nodded and climbed onto the heavy sofa in the middle of the room. It seemed it was only a few minutes since I woke up, but every part of me felt as though it was the end of a long and exhausting day.
I stretched out between the pillows and closed my eyes.
At one point I thought I heard a noise and briefly opened my eyes. I thought I saw a tall figure disappear in the darkness of the hallway.
I closed my eyes again and continued listening to the story.
It was not long thereafter that I fell asleep.
B04 - Last Year
Jules told me that she had a friend visiting her and that I was invited for dinner.
When I arrived, I found them in the living room. Julie was in the middle of telling a story:
"One night I went out with the girls. They pointed out a guy somewhere behind me, at the far end of the bar. They said he keeps looking over, and insisted he was eyeing for my attention and that I should turn around and give him a nice smile. So I did.
He was very good looking, but not handsome in a movie star kind of way.
It was as though he was engineered to be attractive.
Well-groomed. Elegant clothes. Good manners.
However, I was not feeling at attracted to him. Not in a physical sense.
There was something else, something about him. Something dark. Something strong.
A aura... maybe... I do not know what to call it.
I had never seen that in another person and was therefore very intrigued by the impression he made on me. I went over and we started to talk.
He introduced himself as James turned out to be very charming. And witty.
He kept ordering drinks, one thing led to another I and we ended up in his hotel room.
It was like someone tried to cram as much luxuriousness into a single room as possible.
The next day he gave me a lift back to my little studio apartment and I invited him up for a cup of coffee.
At the time I had no furniture other than the small kitchen table and a sideboard, so there was no place to sit down other than the floor. Something he claimed he had not done since childhood.
He was baffled by how different our lives were and he would never have thought it, had he not come upstairs. Not even his student days were so rustic and he joked how I did not look this poor last night. He finished his cup and left.
I do not know what happened to him.
We never met again.
And that is the story of how I contracted genital herpes."
Jules had never told me that story before. I wasn’t sure if she had meant for me to hear it.
"Did he at least make you come really hard?
You know, like I did?"
Her friend exclaimed before introductions could be made.
“Can I marry you?
I hope you’re not seeing anyone.
I’m Franklin by the by.”
“’Never goin’ to happen, mate. You’re not my type.”
That woman was later introduced to me as Paola.
"Am I the only one who suffers the consequences in this story and doesn’t think it’s fun?"
You know, it also makes my life difficult.
There are certain itches you can't scratch, when your lady is itchy there.
It's funny now...
Hee hee ha haa...
But most of the time it's not...."
"Maybe Paola has some suggestions for you.
She sounds an expert on how things run down there.”
"I do."
She seemed very excited to share them with us.
"I have one word for you."
The rest of looking at each other. Where was she going with this?
"On!" she cried out.
"What?"
We shouted in unison.
"Sorry my bad.”
She could barely breath, let alone talk.
“I was never any good at maths stuff. It’s two words.
The other word is: strap"
"H... w... how?" T was trying to get his head around the proposal.
"There are many options you know... “
He looked at her as though she had asked him whether he preferred poo sausage or diarrhoea soup. His face clearly saying he found them equally disgusting and disturbing to be asked that.
Paola must have noticed she took this as far as she could and changed the direction of the convesation herself:
"Does anyone else have a spooky story to tell? I'd love one with a witch."
"Based on what I have heard of you so far, anything from your own life would qualify."
She did not know if T. was serious.
The stern look on his face gave nothing away.
She was clearly relieved when he burst out laughing.
"Well.
Yes.
But I know all those inside out. I want one I never heard before."
Careful about hearing stories from your friends you never heard before.
"I got one!"
I broke the brief silence.
"There was witch who lived deep in a forest.
People in the nearby villages used to say
'Oh her? She's a total bitch!'.
One day a little boy got lost in the forest and met her.
He basically told her to sod off.
The end."
"That's not a very good story"
Paola protested.
"But it's one that involves witches. Which is what you wanted, didn't you?
It has a pretty good moral, too."
"Which is?"
Paola looked at me in disbelief.
"Sometimes in life you can't get everything you want."
I say with a winning smile.
"Does anyone have a good witch story?"
"I do."
“I hope this one is better.”
"Do you want the short version or the long version of it?"
"How short is the short version?"
"It's the one you just heard."
I was the only laughing at that.
"And the long version of that is?"
Paola was mildly interested.
"It's a convoluted epic that involves countless interwoven subplots and a ridiculously complex overarching story line. But before you ask:
Franklin, how is that the short version of a story that at least sounds exciting.
I can tell you this – without giving too much away - by the end of the story the little boy has grown an old man and one day he walks behind his house to go about his gardening and the witch from all these years ago appears.
When he was little, she tried to grab him and a wild chase through the forest ensued. His whole life he had thought he had dodged her for good.
Anyway, the old man looks at her with his wrinkly eyes and says:
“I said: Fuck Off, Cunt!” and it pretty much ends there.
If you guys want, I can write it down sometime."
They did not take me up on my offer, but agreed the story got slightly better.
A03 – Innocence
pain... everywhere... pain.... pain inside... pain outside... and the pressure... the pain... the light... the pain... light-pain... warmth... and cold... and cold-pain... beauty... and warm... kindness... too bright still... light light-pain... intense pain just outside...
cold... and pain....
sleep.... pain... no more light.... no more light-pain... sleep....
no more pain.... sleep....
until…
no more sleep...
no more pain...
no more....
just ...
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