Dazing lights shone through the night as water played it’s tinkling tune within the fountain. Rising up from the centre was a large pink and white waterlily, posed on the edge of fully opening.
My mum sat on her balcony each clear evening, sometimes with a glass of wine and my dad, looking at the fountain. She didn’t know she was having me until four or five months in. She couldn’t get pregnant and thought it was another phantom.
My parents struggled to name me for weeks but finally one evening on the balcony with me wrapped in a blanket in mum’s arms, she looked across at the waterlily and knew what my name was.
Every spring as soon as the grass got cut and the flowers started popping up, my sneezes and watery eyes started. Normally, I’d take some meds and get on with it but this year, my hay fever was worse then ever.
I felt like I had a cold. My nose was blocked and I was sneezing so much whilst my eyes were puffy and always felt like they had something in them. None of my normal things seemed to work, so I went all out on cold and flu things as well. At least they kept some of the symptoms at bay.
The days grew longer, the sun was out more often and spring turned to summer. Still, I was plagued and only cold showers seemed to help. I longed for autumn and winter to come.
Upon opening the book, she let out the waterfall of words that were trapped inside. They filled her head and took her on a journey through the pages. A part of her vanished into that world. She walked with the characters and listened to their conversations. Her thoughts judged them and her feelings rode the waves of emotions.
The plot carved its way, twisting this and that, giving up the secrets like a shipwreck. Soon, things waxed to climax then waned as the rush of words settled. The tided went fully out and the pages became empty before her.
The book was over but the characters would remain with her.
When D had first moved into the dump he had lived in a tent. The owner had taken pity and given D a home and a job. Now, D lived in a little shack with running water and gas. His job was to find things to sell.
Metal and wood brought in good money. Sometimes D would find antiques and jewellery which accidentally had been thrown out or it’s value not realised. A few times D had discovered money which he kept for himself.
Do you remember our honeymoon in Greece? I found some photos of us whilst clear out the attic. It made me want to get back in touch with you. This postcard I found at the bottom of that box and I thought it would be a good reminder for you.
I’m sorry for all the mistakes I made and for all the times I wasn’t there for you. I wish I could go back and change everything. Give you the married life you deserved. I know you had no choice when you left, I know you can never forgive me but I will never stop loving you.
In the wedding room white table cloths hung like ghosts and the napkins sat like sugar cones. The champagne was still in the fridge but most of the other food had been thrown out.
Everything was set up, the preparations done; the dried flowers on the tables with the candles. Fairy lights along the windows for a magical twinkle effect. Along the wall, the DJ stand waited to spin the records whilst on the dance floor only the dust motes twirled.
Silence roamed the room broke only by bird song and the wind blowing outside. There should have been music, talking and laughter but it was an empty celebration now.
Quomodocunquizing – making money in anyway that you can
It was a job he always hated but he needed the money. He had many skills and contacts, years of experience and no time inside. Though he bragged he had been. You had to be careful in the criminal underworld.
Scaling the rooftop, he looked for a fire door or other access. People never thought about a burglar coming through the roof. There was an art to the taking of things and he like a magician practised well.