“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.”
Your kisses never last long enough
or only if my memory could recreate
the sensation of your lips against mine
the passion in your yearning for me
the sweetness and warmth of your breath
the taste of your tenderness
on the tip of my tongue
then heaven would be with me
every moment of the day.
LGH
@December 27, 2005
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.
My life is an open bookstore
Ask anything…
but if you leave with the info you have to pay for the book,
otherwise these really annoying beepers go off
and everyone turns around
and stares at you…
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.
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?
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.
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.
It’s a game of rat and mouse we play
You with the treacherous paw
Curling your finger so enchantingly,
“Come here, come here,”
your breath is sweet like onions
and your teeth gleam
making me wonder what tidbit,
what delicious speck of sugar
you might have for me…
I inch forward, my nose atwitching
for the scent of danger
but you’re good,
you’re so so good
that all I can sense
is your candy-coated grin
and I’m mesmerized
by that tiny finger
hypnotizing me with it’s
steady
crooked
temptation
I’m so close now I can feel your ratty stinky breath
on my whiskers
You smile,
your charm could placate a snake
and I relax
I tell you my woes
I turn over my sympathy,
like it was my firstborn
I give you
everything
all of me
all I hold dear
And then.
What do you do…?
Your ratty teeth no longer gleam
dear vermin,
your onion breath stings my eyes
Your insidious paw
with its needle-sharp claw
that has skewered everything
everything
everything I love
has a hair upon it
It is mine
from where you dug out the flesh
from my sleek mousy back
but what you don’t realize
You will choke on it all
dear rat
Your blessed rat life
where you’ve gathered so much
shitty gold
will turn to dust
And you, poor withered rat
will die
with my hair
in your throat.
It’s the day before Halloween and I’m standing outside the door of my local corner store, shaking like a leaf. I can’t believe it.
In my pocket is a winning lottery ticket. The prize is too big for the store to pay me. They only pay up to $1,000, so I have to mail the ticket off to the lottery head office.
This note was on my living room couch when I got home from dinner out with friends last night, at 7:10:
My lottery ticket is for exactly $1,026.00.
Is this thing that’s leaving me notes actually a lucky angel or some fucking thing? I’m feeling pretty lucky today.
For Part One of The Note, click here.
I close my eyes and hear the sound of my breath
Nothing else haunts me tonight, I am alone
In touch with my deep blue thoughts I stay here
Wading among ghosts of dreams of long lost lovers
If time should be so kind to me, to bless me with one last kiss
…it will never be enough, for I will go on
In the vein of life that passes my lips as air
Swallowed up by the night, the darkness in my heart.
December 7, 2005
11:29pm
Your silence is like a fine coating of dust
That shrouds my room
My bed weighed down
Shards of sparkling glass
All around
So I sit, congested, congealed
Afraid to move
Lest I disturb your silence;
All that remains of you.
Linda G. Hill 