Fiction

JusJoJan 21 – Lioness

It’s a fact of science: bread cools quickly when it comes out of the toaster.

But she sits facing him at the kitchen table at breakfast time and thinks,
Look how weak he is that he allows his bread to cool before he butters it
I used to not see this about him
When we were first married I was so infatuated with him
Now he talks to me about ordinary things
Now I can see that he is less than ordinary – he is weak.
How could I not see his weakness back then?

A week later she had an affair.
A month later she was divorced.

Years have passed and she cannot find that perfect love again that she had at one time with her husband
She grows old but not regretful
For he was weak.
And weakness cannot be tolerated.

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Oscar

“And in closing, I’d like to thank my supporting cast. All the doctors and nurses who have enabled me to endure my labour, and of course my husband – who was gentle and kind at the beginning, leading me to believe that a two-minute roll in the hay would last but two minutes.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I believe my new director is crying to be fed.”

Dear Future Lover

How are you? I’ve been feeling a little down lately. You see, I miss you terribly. How is that, you ask, when I’ve never even met you? Well, you see, it’s easy.

I have this dream about you. It’s a recurring dream, though I don’t have it often enough. In it you love me more than life itself, and I love you the same way. You want to be near me all the time. You would even give your life for me!

With this in mind, I wrote a story about you. In our story (because I’m in it too, of course), there is an evil witch who wants to pull us apart. She attaches herself to you like a leech. In one part of the story I even tried pouring salt on her! But all it did was stung her eyes and she punished YOU for it. It was horrible. I knew I couldn’t try such a thing again.

So I waited. And I waited. And eventually … she died! I know it wasn’t very nice of me, but I rejoiced. So then you and I finally got back together and we lived happily ever after.

Did you like my story? I hope so.

Now all I have to do is meet you. Do you think our real story will go the same way as my made-up story? I hope not. Please promise me you’ll stay away from witches, both until we meet and after.

Thank you.

Just writing to you has cheered me up a bit. I’m going to close this letter now, but before I do I just want to say I love you. And I can’t wait to meet you.

Yours truly,

Imaginaria

xxx

P.S. I might write to you again, so don’t forget to watch out for another letter.

I.

The Note, Part 7

It knows what I’m thinking.

I called my friend Josh and asked him to meet for coffee. I was going to tell him about the notes. Sure, I had no proof. I didn’t get to keep any of them. It’s enough to make me think I’m crazy, but Josh and I go way back. I really think he’d believe what I’m seeing.

But then I got another note, just before I was about to walk out the door.

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What’s really fucked up about this? I still have the note. It didn’t disappear, even when I let go of it in my pocket.

Will this thing hurt me if I tell Josh? I have PROOF now.

What do I do?

To start at the beginning, go here.
For Part 6, go here.

The Note, Part 6

I thought for sure something weird would happen yesterday. It was Halloween for fuck sakes. I walked around all day, looking over my shoulder, expecting to see a note pop up.

Nothing. No-friggin-thing. Even today. Nothing.

So I sat down with a beer to watch tv tonight, to catch a rerun of CSI. I just took a sip and turned to look where I was putting the bottle and when I looked back, there’s the note, stuck to the tv screen.

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I got up to grab the note but then this (holy shit) feeling. It was like something was pushing on the side of my face.

I went in the other direction, towards the window. I… I looked down from my apartment window just in time to see a cab t-bone a Mercedes, right in the middle of the fucking road.  

I’ve got to talk to somebody about this shit. I just have to think of who wouldn’t think I’m on drugs.

As usual, the note is gone.

 

 
To go to The Note, Part One, click here.

The Note, Part 4

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The note’s been following me around since yesterday morning. When I woke up it was sitting on top of my coffee maker. When I got to work it was stuck to my computer screen. It was even sitting on the only unoccupied seat on the bus.

The date is old – June 29, 2013. 9:35am.

What does it mean?

It’s stuck to my tv screen now. It won’t come off.

The Note, Part 3

I enjoy my nightly bath, okay? Sue me. I was determined on two accounts tonight though. First, I wouldn’t fall asleep in the tub, and second, if the phone rang I was going to answer it. I even had one of my remote phones in the bathroom right beside me. No problem, right?

Yyyeah.

I was in the tub for about two minutes when it started to ring. I dried my hand on the towel beside the bath and grabbed the phone. The “on” button wouldn’t work. So I jumped out of the tub, (there was no way I wasn’t answering the damned call. I wanted to know who was doing this to me) and ran to the bedroom to get the hardwired line.

I must have said, “hello” a dozen times. No one was at the other end. Just dead air. So I went back to my bath. This was stuck to the mirror:

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Nothing on it this time. Just the date and time. One minute past the current time that was.

“Why the fuck are you doing this to me!”

If the neighbours heard me they must think I’m nutsoid. They know I’m always alone here.

I thought, Fuck it. I left the note there and sat back in the bath. When I looked up, the note was gone.
Part one of The Note is here: https://lindaghillfiction.wordpress.com/2013/12/08/the-note/

The Note, Part 2

I thought it would be safe to take a bath.  I got home at 5:56 just like usual, made dinner, enjoyed it in front of the tv with a glass of wine, and went for a soak.

I don’t usually fall asleep in the tub. Tonight was strange. It was the phone that woke me up.

Of course I remembered the note from yesterday. Of course I was tempted to rush out naked to answer it. But something told me I shouldn’t, even though my bath water had gone cold anyway.

I found it when I went back to my bedroom.

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“Who the hell are you?” I asked the empty room.

The time on my alarm clock was 10:03. The note was written at 10 on the dot. I put the note down and went back to the bathroom to get my clothes. When I came back to the bedroom, the note was gone.

Start from the beginning: The Note

The Note

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The note was weird, but I thought, okay, so I just wouldn’t take a bath last night. And yet it kept me awake all night. The date matched the day I found it, so I assumed the time was correct as well. But if someone had written it at 9:43 am, and I left home at 8:17am to go to work, how had the note ended up on my fridge before I got home at 5:56pm? I live alone.

When I got up this morning I looked for the note, where I had left it on the kitchen table. The note was gone. Nowhere to be found.

I assume it will be safe to take a bath tonight.

Late Autumn

How crisp is this day? When the leaves rustle like castanets in the hands of a child, chilled to the bone from playing outside too long; and the green grass is tipped with glittering white specks of frozen dew.

Ah, the joy of coming winter. The sun sets before our sup and refuses to rise in the morning, appearing in the east slowly, like a stubborn teenager.

Christmas is but a bargain away, All Hallows Eve a pile of wrappers hidden under the sofa cushion.

And the days are crisp, the nights desirous of a fireplace.