I was invited (well, not personally, but still…) to join the Fandango’s Friday Flashback!
Fandango scrolls back, every Friday, and gives a second chance to a post he had published on the same date, years before. I thought it was a great way to remember some of the stuff I did a while back, and I decided to participate…
So here it is!
Written on November 26th of 2016, here is a peculiar piece of fiction, written in collaboration with someone, whose uncanny imagination enjoyed playing with mine, in my early days as a blogger. Looking back, I could hardly tell which of the following were my words, and which ones were his… I hope you’ll enjoy it (again). And I wish you’re safe and well, wherever you are…
I just kept thinking about her, but it didn’t mean anything.
She popped into my mind, just one time too many. I thought that it was just a time diversion, but why couldn’t it be with someone else for a change?
She began to get suspicious. She began me asking, why I kept thinking about her? Was it because I was going to dump her? Was it that I would drop out of sight, deleting her as a friend from Facebook, then forgetting about her altogether?
I tried to smooth out the impending crisis, but she wanted answers, and not just my empty promises of not disappearing without a trace.
I told her, I needed a break. That’s all. Just some time to think things out.
She told me: “That’s a great idea!! Why haven’t you said so before? I’ve been dreaming of a weekend mini-break forever! You’re a genius!”
Throwing her arms around my neck, figuratively speaking, that is, since she wasn’t here with me, or me with her. Only in my thoughts, but with her arms wrapped around me nonetheless, she continued…
“A real Bridget Jones’ like mini-break? You are the best! Will you get a convertible car, so I can wear a scarf that would fly away in the wind? Oh, we could rent a rowboat, and you could paddle as I sit in the front, and let myself be entertained by your stories while taking a little sun… And we’d have a beautiful room in the best Bed & Breakfast around to… Well you know, think things out together…”
As her voice faded, I realized she wasn’t in my arms anymore, not that she was before, but the idea of her had clung to my chest for a moment. Alone again, I barely had the time to take a couple of deep breaths, before she popped again, twirling in a bright red dress, fluttering her eyelashes at me.
“A break with you deserves that I wear my prettiest dress, don’t you think? Yeah, let’s run away for the weekend, just you and I. Three days and two nights… And if you still want to forget me when we come back, I guess I’ll call it destiny…”
And as the dog barked its way into the room, she vanished again… Leaving me with my puppy thoughts.
“Only drunks and Children”
I had the feeling that we were on two entirely different wavelengths. She was in the throes of passion, while I was debating the consequences of my thoughts.
I was at a party, with loud music and alcohol being the norm. I was thinking of her again, even chancing to send a few text messages her way. I reached a point where the truth was on the tip of my tongue, being very influenced by the alcohol and the general mood of the party.
I sent a few text messages alluding to the truth. “Do you want to know how I really feel about you?” – but for some reason, or another, the message didn’t get sent. I went about my partying until the wee hours, when it came time to return home. I checked my telephone, which apparently was in the process of sending my earlier text messages, professing to tell the truth and so on, but they were never sent, until now that is.
The bus, the night, the influence of the alcohol and the delay in text messages, made me forget about having to explain something, that was so clear a few hours ago, but what had become muddled along the rest of reality at that late hour.
On the next day her responses finally came through. “Should I take you up on your offer? The truth would be a nice thing to hear right now”
If only drunks and children speak the truth, then she would be sadly disappointed at my next response…..
As I was keeping myself busy, preparing spicy soup on the stove, to forget about the hangover thoughts of how it would have been to see her waltzing her way between my drunk fellows, she popped again, sitting on the counter.
“Who sits on counters like that?” I asked, “Some people’s kids!”
But she didn’t seem to care, peeking down my cooking pot, making comments about weather I would never experience. “I should knit you a woolen scarf someday. My knittings are not the best looking, but the scarf would keep you warm. And it would be like having my hands on your neck at all times, having played with every inch of that wool.”
“Stop being silly!” said aloud… Stirring the lentils, afraid she would make me burn them once more. “I thought you’d like to talk about things you didn’t get to ask me yesterday…”
When I turned her way, she wasn’t there anymore, not that she was there to begin with. I could just catch random thoughts clinging in the air… Professing I’d never tell the truth anyway, that confessions from a drunk would have been useless, since I would have denied all and anything afterwards, that she knew more already than I dared to believe…
How could she… “You talk in your sleep.” said a voice behind me, speaking softly above my left shoulder.
“Stop it! Go away now! Leave me alone with my own thoughts!”
Silence filled the room, along with the smell of the burned chili lentils for my soup. “Great, just what I needed.”
But she wasn’t done just yet.
“You’re the silly one, you know? Blaming me for entertaining you when your mind goes astray. You should meet with the you in my thoughts… You might learn a thing or two from him? Maybe…”
And she was gone again.
Learning from the me in her thoughts? That was weird… Even for me.
“Talking in my sleep?” Snoring more likely, but some people want to believe things that aren’t there, whatever the cost.
I was beginning to wonder if all my thoughts about her, were just pipe-dreams that disappeared in the Noonday Sun?
Yes. That was it. Noonday Sun. Only Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the Noonday Sun….
But I wasn’t English, and definitely not mad, but that the jury is still out on that one, as they say!
She will just have to keep her thoughts to herself, and the same for me. We are only allowed to think of each other as it pleases us, not letting others in on that experience, or ramifications of those thoughts.
Try as I May, Try as I Might…..
…..I can’t drive her memory out of my……..
This story was written in collaboration with my good friend, Notthedane56. He suggested this not quite but “cadavre exquis” like exercise. It is an honor for me to attempt stepping into his universe… And I sure hope it will not be the last time!
Mwahh! Min ven! Det er altid dejlig at arbejde med dig!
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