Quick #VisDare 138

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The long chase was over: there he stood, in stupid ignorance that the end was nigh – his end. He was still wearing the silly, but sinister, Jack Rabbit mask. I did not need any mask: he did not know me, just my name.

Soon the train would stop and he would run off. But this time there would be no escape. The vile assassin would scream of despair, and bystanders shriek in terror.

He wouldn’t be arrested, but shot. Shoot to kill they call it, and I was paid to expedite the job.

As I was seeing ahead the well rehearsed scene, a slight noise behind me alerted me. A few feet away, standing tall, holding the rail above its head, was another Jack Rabbit. Annoying: there were now two of them? This was not in the script. Would I have to kill both of them, just to make sure?

Image source: Photo by Benjamin Godard, “Catch Me If You Can” on 500px.com

Gleeful: #VisDare 137

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It was done, all these long years of study, the cold classrooms, the interminable nights of reading, the despair when the results were dismal… We had finished, the world was ours, your hand in mine and his in yours: what was more beautiful than our friendship?

I remember how our laughs resonated in the ancient hall. Outside the sun was shining: a summer day to precede all our summers. Our joyous steps on the stone floor, and outside our friends and parents waiting. We would chose our life, the three of us, inseparable, chose where we would live, this incredible friendship, perhaps this shared love. The world was still young, and we, even younger! We were rushing into our future, innocent, blind, defenceless…

He went first, as he was a bit older, and you and I took him to board his train, already full of youngsters like him, like us. On the platform grim officers were ensuring the train would leave on time. There, in the East, that war had started.

I soon followed, and then it was your turn, for, by now, women were drafted into combat. So now, with you and him gone forever, I remember the day we left school, full of hopes. I have my eyes left to cry.

Inspired by Erich Maria Remark’s immortal novel, Die Kameraden

 

#VisDare 135: Negotiating

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At long last I found you again my darling, after all those months of anxiety! Where could you be? And you are there, just in front of me, in the middle of those inert little dolls… When your turn comes be sure that fellow will notice your guy, I’m a good head above the others.

Yes, those idle folks will be surprised, such a small woman, with that huge fellow! We will laugh too, and cry a little. You will hug me, me holding you in those strong arms, my little beauty.

Then we will take the long road home, away from this city, no more auctions for you. You won’t leave my sight, on the way you’ll tell me your story. And I will tell you how much I love you, cherish you, how I feared to have lost you, and won’t let you go away again, without me…

Image source: Doll Auction at Caledonian market, 1920s.

 

#VisDare130 Possibility

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You came, in this infinite solitude, on the edge of the lake. Last night I fetched you from the small town: you were dead tired, I had to carry you to your room.

And this morning, early, I saw you, standing in the silence, the calm, icy water half way to  your knees, the black shawl over your shoulder. For long minutes we were immobile, taking in the immaculate beauty of these shores.

No words are needed. It has been so long: I know now that you will stay. All these years I hoped, alone. Perhaps you did, too.

You are here. The world is reborn, the trees are alive, and black is the water at your feet.

Soon, Spring will come, and we’ll walk through forests so old we will have to relearn their tongue – but maybe, you, will remember.

I look into your eyes, deeper than the lake.

 

 

Devious #VisDare 128

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It’s a long story, a kind of one hundred years war, that cannot be won, and yet we keep on fighting… You were already there, in the old class room, in the heart of winter, as our teacher was telling us about the Middle Ages, and, about you, the ever present, maleficent fallen angel. You were then a mere dark shadow, near the old coal fire.

One day I was clearing the sports ground of leaves. It was cold, there was no-one else around. As I wiped the sweat off my forehead, I heard a slight stir in the pile of leaves. It wasn’t the wind: there was a small repugnant creature, bigger than a rat, looking at me through a hideous pair of red eyes.

Since then, in so many places, from my back garden to the streets of cities, the seductive face, the ugly gnarl of a thug.

VisDare 128: Devious

#VisDare 127: Snoop

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It was late, we were alone in the last train. Patiently I watched you as you checked your messages: I admired the way you kept going, as if everything was normal. We were going home, I knew you’d attempt to make peace, perhaps more.

I was a little bemused, hesitant maybe, after all, soon I would leave this silly substitute shape for a human body, and become again the woman I was, always were.

But you, my dear, my sweet sister, could you still be the friend I wanted? Or would you become jealous, envious of the looks of others, the preying eyes? Could you adapt to being what I was now? Of course I would make it as comfortable and cosy as I could…

I would take care of you, keep you dressed, and clean, always close to me.

As we were now, on that lonely train, soon home.

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#VisDare 125: Candid

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You always like to show me the way, in this luminous, sharp clarity that is the signature of your kind. I have to admit that I would not do without the light, even when, often, what you show me is a little frightening.

I know, as you would say, were you not abiding by your vows of silence, at my age, I should not fear to look at Death in the face.

Of course you are right. I have lived much longer than I will, in this uncertain future you  kindly reveal to me, one candid view at a time. I admire this candour, and the style you have kept, ever since our beginnings, together…

For you are my personal angel of Death, the dark shadow from whom I cannot not hide, nor ignore. The one, I hope, not too soon, to do the journey with, to the quiet island .

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#VisDare 124: Unexpected

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Mum knew you were on duty, and aimed to surprise you. I know how much you must have waited for those short moments, stolen from the tedium of the day, your little girl appearing, playful, so small…

And there you were, my very big daddy, pretending to arrest me. Such laughter! You could never catch me, onlookers wondering why the huge policeman should be running so hard after that little thing, all legs and smile!

Then time seemed to stop, the sky was clearer, I can still see you, Mum, laughing, secretly admiring the big guy in your life, my father.

But this was before he went away, away from that beach, toward other sands, deeper, and then we only had the short, sober, letters.

I am now bigger too, big enough to stand still by his grave. A hero, a big man. And me, on my own.

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#VisDare 119: Omitted #WritersWednesday #150

OmittedWhere shall we go now? I know, along the tree-lined streets of our memories, now full of young people of all ages, the façades of the houses from time to time displaying the scars of the great battle, to ensure we remember…

Slowly, we retrace our steps, all those years past, and the ghosts wonder how the city can shield creatures as old as us within its walls, for we are older than them, as ancient as the forests, far, to the East.

Soon we will watch the crowds on Museums Island, patient actors of antique plays, wearing the masks of joy, we will listen to the troubadours, watch the coloured balloons going up to the skies.

Clouds: my heart longs for your touch, ephemeral, giant reflections of our pain.

Come, my love, the city is ours, and we have all eternity to savour her pleasures, from dawn to dusk.

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