Found Fiction

Found this while clearing my old laptop. Written in 2007 around the same time as I wrote ‘Finite Incantatem’. How to save a life in 279 words without changing anything of the book.

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She doesn’t know how long she’s lain there.  Not moving, barely breathing, the cold stone of the floor chilling her body.  She likes the cold, it keeps her numb.  Oblivious.  Keeps her from thinking about the man who lies beside her – about the fact that his stillness is not voluntary. She tightens her fingers in his but he does not squeeze back, doesn’t brush his thumb across the back of her hand like he always does, doesn’t lean into her and whisper in her ear.  She daren’t open her eyes.  She doesn’t want to believe it; opening her eyes might make it true.  She feels her tears catch in her throat, stopping her breath.  She bites down hard on her lip and rolls onto her side, wrapping herself around him, her head against his chest, fingers twisting in the softness of his well-worn robes.  She desperately wants his arm around her, to feels the warmth of his body, soft breath in her ear as he tells her, ‘Everything’s going to be all right.’

It doesn’t happen.  None of it.  No embrace, no soft words, no warmth…

No heartbeat…

So many nights she has fallen asleep listening to its rhythmic thumping, safe in his arms.  She lies here now shaking, she is so scared.  It’s all gone.  How can she be without him? He’s gone.  She kisses his cheek, his forehead, his lips.  Picking up his wand from were it lies at his side, she slides her own into her other palm as she pulls herself to her feet.  She doesn’t allow herself to look down again.  He’s gone.  All that’s left now is darkness and violence and revenge.  

Run

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Escape

Trolls and dark things and all things in the night of the tree folk and the paper forests of the woeful incident and the cauliflower creeper to the night and the sky and the books of words to the bricks and the birds and the things that go bump.

You will never get it and that’s okay.  You can’t help who you are.  It’s all a plan of liquorice men in the dark parliament of your mind.  the dolphins of truth can hear your thoughts.  Internet or rotten crap-fest and I think lots of things.

The carrots are restless.  GET OUT NOW.  You are the shark and the earthworm both and its belly is full of jellybeans.  My lord and master is in the sky line and Jesus sells golden tickets behind the KFC,  apparently.   Punctuation is not your friend it is mine alone.  We are not speaking.  Shouting from the rooftops.

Words are blessings.  Run and hide your head in the hideous wastelands and farms of lies.  UFO men will take you to the truth.  You don’t believe but I broccoli towers and eat your veg.  Don’t kill to live.  Live in peace and the truth of the light.

Water.

Ugg

Ugg is having a bad day.

Ugg is having a bad day.

Green widgets sold to my internet issues that I can carrots kale deep in the cages of time I know you hate this that you’re really a total asshat I don’t know what else to say about spaghetti and coleslaw.  I need coffee water and poutine.  travel always take picture love to sky blue shores and whispers of dark creatures under the floor.  Soaring high in the sea of life to the clams of sand dunes far and to the cafe biscuits and ramblings of cameras shy of the 24 hour clock and content places. Ireland or greener rain drenches laundry lines sneezing wet on cotton platforms.  Castles of sand and ice and carpets so purple shade poison plants and vegetarians of gold.   Streets paved in shark paper and lands of time before the sky was yellow.  Keep us safe.  Always.

Finding John Barrowman

“I love John Barrowman.”

This was the first statement out of my(then 7 yo) son’s mouth when he came home from a week at this Dad’s and his first FanFest here in Vancouver.

“Is he nice?”

“Yes.  And he’s really funny.  I love him.”

“Well, that’s good.”

“He’s gay you know.”

“I know.”

“Do you know what that means?”

“Yes.”

“It means he has a boyfriend instead of a girlfriend.”

“I know.”

He sits grinning to himself for a bit.

“I want him to adopt me.”

“Why?”

“Then I’d have two dads.”

“What about your dad?”

“Three dads!”

This is my son.

So….

I was browsing Twitter tonight with my Liam at my shoulder.   John Barrowman was playing a ‘find me’ game in downtown Vancouver.  First person to find him and take a selfie would get a $100.  donation to their favourite charity.

My son was on his feet in an instant.  “How many supermarkets are there downtown?  Look it up.”

I do.  “53”

“What!  How am I going to find him?”

“We’re not.  By the time we get downtown someone else will have found him anyway.”

A few minutes later JB posts a video.  He’s walking down Burrard Street.

“I know where he is!” Liam shouts.  That’s it.  He’s at the door putting his boots on.

He’s so passionate.  It’s so sweet.  I cave.

Liam runs all the way to the bus stop.  He yells for the bus to wait – it does.  The driver’s laughing.  He sits beside me.  “Check  Twitter.  Has anyone found him yet?”

I check.  No.    A few minutes later Barrowman posts another vid, from Davie this time.  Unfortunately, this one’s not as fun.  Now Davie is one of my favourite streets and neighbourhoods in downtown, it’s alive, vibrant and a hell of a lot of fun.  It is also a gay neighbourhood.  As such it attracts asshats who think that driving down Davie yelling homophobic slurs at people makes them look something other than the complete asshats that they are.   I’m very sorry JB that you experienced that in my city.  I am also sorry that people like that still exist really.

Onward.  We get off the bus at Davie and I have to stop Liam from running into traffic.   I know where we’re going now but Liam wants to just run.   We get to the market and Liam’s head almost spinning “Where is he?”

Not hard to spot; Barrowman stands out in a crowd.  So glad my son didn’t tackle him.  He did do a lot of talking, bouncing and hugging though.

“Don’t you recognize me from FanFest?”  was one of Liam’s first questions.

“Well, that was last year, you’ve grown a lot since then.” Came the wonderfully diplomatic answer.   I’m just laughing at this point.

Needless to say, we were the first ones to find him and Liam not only got a photo with someone he adores but also a donation to SOS Children’s Villages (which is the charity we chose.)

Sometimes it’s worth it to cave to your kids and go out on a rainy night to do something that would otherwise seem a bit insane.  My son (and daughter) are both extremely happy tonight.  Liam has gone to bed wearing his Doctor Who pyjamas.

So thank you John Barrowman for a fun night.  And for being so kind and gracious to my overly exuberant, bouncy little boy and my daughter who became nearly mute in your presence.

Hope you didn’t get too wet on the walk back.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Seriously?

‘Did you know the wine shop around the corner holds tastings on Saturdays?’

‘No.’

‘I go all the time.’

‘I haven’t been to a wine-tasting in ages.’

‘We should go sometime.’

‘Sure.’

*

That was the conversation.  Innocent enough, right?

It was between me and a person I have only vaguely known for a few years.  I usually see him a few times a week in the course of my usual routine.  We’ve always been friendly but I don’t know his surname.

I agreed to go.  I did, I’ll admit it.  I haven’t been to a wine-tasting in years; thought it might be fun.

It was only after I agreed that the red flags started to appear.  From the vague distant waving to full on sirens and get the hell out of here.

The next day(after I’d agreed) he asked what I was doing on Friday.  I said relaxing.  He then told me I’d be spending Friday hanging out at his place.  I declined.  My decline was then declined.  Three times.  Needless to say I didn’t go.

I did go to the wine-tasting today though.

For it’s part, the actual wine-tasting was good.  I sampled six wines.  Three white and three red.   All were quite nice.  But… I don’t drink(usually).  I have no aversion to drinking, I just don’t particularly like alcohol.  Why did I want to go to a wine tasting?  Simply to learn – so I can pick out a bottle of something when I go to friends’ for dinner without looking like an idiot.

We met at the shop.  He arrived shortly after I did.  Immediately after the general hellos, he tells me he’s going to grab a bottle of white and a bottle of red and we’re going to go drink them afterward.  Really?  I was under the impression I was going to a wine-tasting not an afternoon of drinking at his flat.  I mean, I barely know him.

He then tells the wine guy that I want to sample white wines.  Do I?  He never asked me.  I correct and say I’ll sample all six.  When we’ve sample all and chatted  for a bit, he asked which wine I wanted him to buy so we can go back to his place for a drink.  I decline and reiterate that I don’t really drink.  A short time later he buys his wine(for him alone) and we leave.  He says we’ll just go for a walk.  (I am horrifically suspicious by this point). And I should be.  Where do we walk to?  Oh, that’s right – his place.   Again, he asks me to come up.  Tells me the various drinks, cups of tea or home brewed cold remedies(I have a cough) he’ll make me if I do.  I decline again.  Say I enjoyed the wine-tasting; thanks for recommending it and I leave.   He calls out for me to call him later.  Nope.  Not going to do that.

Is it just me or was this all rather presumptuous and a little creepy?

I never thought of this as a date.  I just thought of it as a friendly outing.  Was I wrong?   And even if I was wrong, is this the way people behave on dates now?

Oh and to top it all off – I don’t think he even knows my name.  He’s never used it.

So how was your Saturday?