She had walked through this cemetary a hundred times before, but it had never before looked like this. Always eager to prove her bravery, a school yard dare soon became a regular short-cut, and later, edgy hangout spot. It had never scared her, and it soon become second nature, as familiar to her as the hidden corners of her yard or bedroom So how had she never seen it like this before. A glow that seemed to come not from the moon or the distant street lights, but from the very fabric of the place. It was beautiful, calming, peaceful. And then with a clarity that comes with certainty she understood why she was here. Why she had returned this time. And now she knew this was where she must remain She looked around at the sad faces, her family, her friends. Watching the tears fall silently down their cheeks, lit by the glow they could not see She wanted to tell them it was allright, she was allright, but all she could do was look on, witness their grief and say her goodbyes.
The din from outside was growing in volume. The noise was corse and base and troubling to Queen Christina. At only 11am surely it was too early for the rabble to be congregating. Still they must have their trivial tasks to do as she had her weighty and onerous obligations to perform. Sitting down to a light breakfast of brioche and chocolate, she mulled over the tasks of the day. A meeting with the chancellor, dinner with the King of, someplace or other. She sighed, heavy was the crown. The noise outside grew even louder as one of her courtiers stumbled in, his back against the shuttered doors. He was panting, disheveled. This would not do. “I am sorry Your Highness for this intrusion” The Queen rose quickly from her seat, upsetting the fine tableware. “What is the meaning of this?” She commanded “The people, Your Highness, your subjects are storming the castle.” There were no words, the Queen simply stared back at him, dumbfounded. “They say they have no bread to feed their children.” Queen Christina looked down at her half eaten breakfast, unable to process what she was hearing. The impropriety of this courtier entering her chamber unannounced was too much. The people, her people, loved her. She was their Queen, they must love her. “No bread? Then let them, let them eat brioche” she mumbled more to herself as the sound of the baying crowd grew ever louder.
It was the night before of the great exhibition of ideas. People from all over France, from all over Europe would be congregating here to discuss the future of the human race. Existentalism and humanity’s great tragedy- free will Despite what people would often say, Sartre hated speaking to crowds. His place was beside his Simone debating ideas with his friends, his equals. Still the importance of this moment was not lost on him.
Pierre on the other hand, did not care about extistentalism and had never pondered the weighty subjects that seemed to occupy the idle. He only knew that when Sartre and his mates were in town the endless talkers would stay up all hours making it impossible for him to clean up and go home. There was no free will as far as he was concerned, just the next overflowing ashtray, the next days work. Pierre reached out to grab at an ashtray just as Satre teached towards it. Their hands touched for just a moment but the electric shock stunned them both.
The next day just a Sartre was standing preparing to step out and speak to the expectant crowd that familiar electric shock once again gripped him then suddenly it was Pierre standing looking out through Sartres eyes just as he was called on stage Stunned and inable to think, Pierre stumbled out to the waiting crowd. “What the hell was free will about then?” He thought frantically to himself.
Lets hope Sartre was having a better time
When I look in the mirror, what is it I see? Is that me, staring back with hard careless eyes? Is this who I have become? Cold as glass. Broken shards of a human being. How did I let this happen? Am i still there, buried deep beneath the scar tissue, peering out, afraid to emerge, but still, resolutely, impossibly me No Not any longer, the girl I once was is lost forever. I am as cold, as brittle as the mirror before me. No more real than this reflection. I am lost. I am gone. No tears, i don’t deserve them A cruel smile plays on the face of my reflection, looking back out of the mirror.
In the early morning light the lake seemed entirely harmless, tranquil, almost enticing. Sally sat down at thr edge of the pier resisting the urge to drop her feet into the cool still water. Everyone she loved was gone, consumed by the lake. Already the memories seemed impossible to her She allowed the large hot tears well up and fall silently down her cheeks. A breeze skirted the surface of the water, creating ripples in the stillness. Sally closed her eyes and allowed the breeze to play across her face and dry her tears. Refusing to open her eyes she stood and turned her back on the lake. Resolute in her decision to leave. She paused for just a moment, opening her eyes slowly and acknowledging the police beginning to crowd the edge of the water. Her hands, still bloodstained, formed fists as she readied herself for whatever fate befell her. Anything was better than an eternity at the bottom of that lake. Suddeny what felt like a hand, cold, wet and impossibly strong, grabbed at Sally’s ankle. She just had time to let out a final scream and see as the police scrambled to reach her, knowing there was nothing anyone could do as she was dragged down into the lake and lost forever.
Our world became more maliable, less concrete, less sturdy, around the same time that pilot disappeared. She had been testing some fancy new jet, something rumored to reach somewhere close to the speed of light. It all sounded like fancy science mumbo-jumbo but there is no getting away from the simple fact that one day the jet and the pilot were safely on the ground. The next day she flew off and just - gone From that moment on our world started to feel squishy around the edges. Reality felt a little, I don’t know, bendy It took a few more months before things started to bleed into our world. Little things at first, scraps of newspaper that had never been printed, flower petals picked up on the wind where no flowers existed Little things, at first Then things started to get really weird. I think it was when the dodo bird was spotted hanging out in a zoo in Spain that everyone started to take notice We heard stories about a middle aged man stumbling home from the pub to find themselves already curled up on the couch watching Antiques Roadshow with the wife. No one really believed the stories, not really But then I received the letter. It was rather odd from the get-go, i mean who writes letters these days. I didnt recognise the handwriting immediately, didn’t really think much of it to be honest. Just threw it onto the kitchen counter with the overdue phone bill. But I was drawn back to it. It kept nagging at me, catching my eye as I made dinner, like a piece of food stuck between your teeth, it kust kept bothering me. Almost in frustration more than curiosity, I opened the letter. What was inside changed everything for me. Understand that i didnt believe it at first. I am a sensible, practical man, I’m not one to fall for the usual bullshit, but at the same time it felt real in the same way that breathing feels real. In that subconsious, obvious, invisible sort of way.
The air was crisp and clean. A breeze played over her face. She sighed, content If anyone were to tell her this place was all artifice, a manufactured facsimile of a world now lost, she wouldn’t believe them. Tell me how this sky, these trees, this landscape is not real. It was the only reality she had ever known Earth, the old earth, long since stripped bare and destroyed. Ancient history, no longer taught in schools and barely remembered This haven, this shangri-la was as real as anything sje had ever known
Goldie had one best friend in the whole world. Goldie was Jennys pet goldfish and would always listen when Jenny was telling her all about her day, always swimming right up to the glass of her fish bowl whenever Jenny came into the room, her little golden fins splashing excitedly in the water. Goldie was Jennys best friend by far, and Jenny was Goldies best friend too But sometimes, when Goldie heard stories of Jennys adventures, she wished she could go out into the world with Jenny and experience them together Or better yet, if only she could show Jenny her world and the special adventures she would go on when Jenny was away at school. The only problem, thought Goldie, blowing bubbles as she thought, Jenny was just too big. If she had just one wish in the world, just one very little wish…
Staring out on the misty morning, Jessica came over all Wuthering Heights. “No”, she thought, involuntarily shaking her head to dislodge the very notion “Catherine was such a cow, I’m much more the Jane Eyre type” She nodded to herself in approval. Stepping further out into the bleak landscape, the chill air penetrating her clothes and sending a shiver down her spine. She waited for the wind to pick up and tousle her hair in a carelessly fetching way. Instead a sudden squall caused her to trip and stumble, her left boot sinking into a muddy patch of ice cold water. “Damn, Jane Eyre” she scowled as she limped in her sodden sock back to the car. Becoming windswept and interesting was not nearly as fun as she thought. Abandoning the adventure she returned to her hotel room and her well-stocked mini bar
