Saturday, November 26, 2005

Excerpts

I've got stories I've written floating around my hard drive. I'm parking the bits and pieces of them that I like here for now. Maybe it'll kick my brain into gear.
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This one's from a story called "Jesus Loves Me" about a woman who reluctantly falls for a priest.
She stood on the outcropping of rocks, a lone figure against a backdrop of gray sky. A wave of coastal fog drifted in, threatening to swallow her whole. Waves battered the rocks at her feet but she had no fear of them. She had another purpose today. She stared out at the unrelenting sea as wave after wave of tears streamed down her face. She came here to say her good-byes and yet something held her back. She clutched tightly at the box in her arms, not quite ready to let go. She took a deep breath and filled her body with a kind of hard resolve.

Opening up the box, she stared in a kind of morbid fascination at the ashes inside. Amazing to think that the contents of the box had once been a vibrant human being. She started to let her mind wander back to the last time she'd seen him but the pain was still too fresh. With a quick movement, She released the ashes into the sea, sobbing as she did it.

"Goodbye…" she whispered.
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There's a song by Placebo called "Brick Shithouse" and it made me think about a ghost having to watch the man who murdered him sleep with the only woman he ever loved. And the man was his best friend.
She was sublime, this love of mine. Even now, when I close my eyes, I can see her moving through my mind like smooth velvet. I can see her walking towards me with that Cheshire cat grin and those come-fuck-me eyes. Her long, ebony hair swirls around her face like heavy storm clouds moving swiftly through the sky. I catch a glimpse of her thigh as it peeks through the slit in her red satin nightgown and it makes me shiver. I hold out my arms and wait for my ghost-lover to step into them, only to be disappointed because I will never feel her against my body again. Instead I can only hover above and watch while my only love lies with my best friend, and murderer.
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This one was called "Everything Will Blow" which was also another Placebo song. It's about three friends who go to some function but a riot breaks out and they get separated. One of them is murdered and it's told from his POV.
The streets were quiet tonight. Not unusual for this time of year - my favourite time of year I should say. The subtle, crackly-crisp air filtered through the autumn leaves to ruffle the hair of the passersby. I missed it, having been dead for some time now myself, but I still enjoy walking the streets and pretending to be a part of it all. Oh how I missed it.

On this particular night I was out wandering around, more out of boredom than anything else. I often walk by the spot where I was killed. I don't want to, mind you but my legs just sort of take me there as if they have a mind of their own. I seem to be doomed to relive that moment again and again like some sort of cosmic joke at my expense. As I passed the doorway I felt the familiar chill pass through me, followed by the excruciating pain in my chest. I always gasp and clutch my chest, desperate to alleviate the pain. Then I end up cowering in the cursed doorway, sobbing and shaking as the memories come flooding back to me. This time, as I cried, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Are you all right?" It was the sweet, angelic, falsetto voice of a child. I looked into her eyes with my tearstained ones.

"You can see me?" I asked her, astonished. She looked at me, puzzled. I felt her tiny hand brush a tear from my cheek. She couldn't have been much more than five.

"Why do you cry?" she asked.

"Because I'm very sad sweetie. Bad things have happened to me." I replied. Again she looked puzzled.

"You're funny. I can see your lips move, but nothing comes out. Are you whispering to me?" She leaned closer to my mouth. "What did you say?"

"I said I'm just sad honey. You wouldn't understand." I tried to smile at her but her mother was pulling her away.

"Anna, who are you talking to darling?"

"There is a sad man there, mummy, he's crying, but I can't hear what he is saying."

"Darling there's no one there." She was saying as they walked further away. I sighed and pulled my knees up to my chest. I watched the little girl and her mother go, retreating into my memories as they became mere figures in the distance.

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