Losing Elissia

Trailing my fingers through the sandy shore dreamily looking at the faces floating past. Sand is exactly like water except it tickles. Elissia has a scarf tied around her head like a pirate, she rocks back and forth as she rows the boat through the sand. I've know Elissia a long, long time and she has a phobia to odd numbers. We're not exactly lost, but then again I don't know where we are now. 'Elissia,' I ask 'where are we and where are we going?' she lets go of the oars and looks over her shoulder 'we used to be back there' she says quietly (she talks very quietly when she's thinking) 'but, we're not there now are we?' I shake my head 'nope' Elissia awkwardly stands up in the boat 'we're right here now' I nod 'I think you should sit down' I suggest, she shakes her head 'soooo,' she squints her eyes 'we're no where' she says sitting down. The oars had drifted off and the sun was beginning to get awfully hot, so I put up the beach umbrella which also acted as a sail and soon we were speeding along over the waves.

I awoke with a start. The boat had run aground on a pebbly beach beyond which was a dense dark forest. Elissia was gone and there was no sign of life -save the singing of unseen birds in the tree tops. Stopping myself from calling out because of possible wild and dangerous animals, I jumped out of the boat and pulled it up the shore and grabbing some supplies I set off in search of Elissia. After a few minutes the sound of the ocean had been swallowed up by the deep solitude f the forest. The air was cool and heavy and the trees were all smooth and shiny. I had been walking uphill for since I left the shore but because of the thick forest it was impossible to tell how high I'd climbed. I stopped for a drink and noticed to my left a large square stone hidden through the trees. When I walked over to it I saw it was a pillar part of a large stone pergola type building. It had four pillars, one on each corner, square table like stone in the middle and the roof was also stone. Upon further investigation it seemed to have been carved from a single rock for I couldn't find and joints or cracks. I put my bag on the table to have something to eat, there I could see the ocean far off and far below. 'You've climbed a long way' said the Moose. I silently munched a slice of water melon, the Moose tapped my shoulder 'Are you missing Elissia?' he asked, I slowly nodded 'Yeah, I didn't even get to say goodbye' scratched his chin, 'Oh well, that's life I guess old boy.' I finished the water melon, put all the pieces back together and let it roll down the hill. The Moose walked out and headed up the hill, 'coming or not?' he said without turning around.

Tantralum

I fall down, 'Ouch' I sit up again and wonder how many more times before it turns into a habit. 

The blood hounds run through forests and fields, down valleys and over hills.

The rabbit digs a hole in the sand and it collapses on his head.

Jeremy is caught jay walking and catches a bus.

Farmer Bruce has a two shooter gun.

I know who hid the milk.

This is a badger.

Blue bus.

No. 1

Ø

Indicative.

Okay so it's like this really. Last yesterday I awoke right? But this today morning I woke up, then I got up, got dressed, got breakfast -or breaky- and went out the front door etc, etc.

Anyway on a totally unrelated note I thought that, that was interesting.

So back to what I was originally going to say before I said something else. There's this thought that's been buzzing around my mind like a pelican (if you've ever picked up a pelican then you'll know what I'm talking about other wise you'll be like O.o ) And then the thought or theory -whatever it is- is this: And a lot of people don't know this but I'm pretty sure it's true. Truth? you ask, I could talk about this all night and I don't think it's totally subjective but meh, whatever.

All in all I think it simply boils down to whether or not you're a dog or cat person -unless you don't like dogs or cats which stuffs up this and where it was going. I had vague notions or Why Hitler was like he was, but that's all lost now.

I think I'll skip that section of that and take it from Hitler; what makes people exactly naughty?

I don't exactly know but I'll soon find out because I have a clever brain.

So in short Hitler is conceived and spends the first two weeks of his life as a miniature girl, I think people change at that point but I'm not sure maybe it's a month. Anyway. The next eight months are dark and boring (I remember thinking about all kinds of amazing things but life turned out to be a bit of a let down). 

So he grows up, does his stuff starts a war and so on.

Most everyone is naughty but some more then others I think. But then again maybe that's subjective, is subjectivity subjective to anything? My bet is other subjectivities.

I wonder if you wake up in a terrible rage that you feel like you know that you are in a mood? For example, picture a really, really, really sad cow, or a happy one or a cold cow or whatever. Does it know it's happy? I've noticed that people are always like "I'm in a bad mood so watch out!" or "I'm feeling so happy so watch out!" or "I'm in a naughty mood so watch out!" so I guess the answer to that question is obviously yes.
Now that hypothesis raises a number of interesting questions such as: Did Paul Simon know he was musical? Did Andy Warhol know he was good at printing? Did Lassie know she was a dog? Well I'm pretty sure the answer to those questions is absolutely not; Lassie is a fictional character. Now if I add this question and the one before it together I get a subjectile. And a numerous other interesting questions, philosophies and theories most of which I will now outline:

The Box of Tulips

Silently the rope was slid across the floor and under a door. The clanking sound started, slowly at first then into a steady rhythm. The spine chilling scrape of metal against metal echoed through the stone rooms. I bit my finger nail and eyed the door but my better judgement pulled me back into the shadows. Half way down the hall the knife fell from my hand. The last sound I wanted to hear was the machinery stop -and it did.

* * *

Stephen was alone in his bedroom when he heard a strange sound. He lived in a town house London on Straight Road which is near Royal Albert Way which was very noisy, not to mention the airport. The sound in itself wasn't that odd, but as Stephen tried to explain it afterwards, "It was the sort of sound you hear before you realise you're hearing it. Like Licorice that has an after taste, the order of events in the way it happened were almost though time were going backwards." And this was closer to the truth then Stephen realised.

* * *

Now it's with a sombre and quiet voice that I tell you this. Last Tuesday when I was walking past I never took any notice at the time but number 23's door was open. They found her in the woods last night. But I don't believe it's her body, it's a cover up because I believe she found the secret. Tomorrow we're going to Mr Devonshire.

* * *

Spinning around looking up at the sky, letting the world spin around you in a blur. It's really an amazing experience and afterwards trying to dizzily walk. In a field of long grass and summer flowers, there really is nothing like this.

* * *

He had terrible scars on his arms from what I could see, of cause I didn't feel comfortable asking him about them. His eyes were bright with dilated pupils, indeed I could feel mine dilating as he incoherently told me his story.

* * *

At the time it felt so natural, as simple as pacman munching coins. But it was like coming in halfway through a film and slowly trying to figure out what's happened so far. Most of the time you make up your own story so the film makes sense -even if it's not correct it somehow helps the film make sense. But then again life is so much more complex then pacman.

* * *

I remember the library as such a wonderful place. It was really a second hand book store, but the old man always let me take books home for a borrow. There was a big leather arm chair in the corner that would swallow me up, and the afternoon sun would turn the pages to glimmering gold. I never really talked to the old man, but we'd smile at each other and the twinkle in his eye meant more then all the words I'd just heard after another day at school.

* * *

The old lady who lived next -whose name I never knew- used to bake me chocolate cookies. She had a very small yard with two outside chairs. When I was young I used to go over to visit most afternoons. She'd always have a plate of cookies ready and we'd sit outside and she'd ask about my day and tell me stories. One day she showed me a bag of bulbs and we planted them together in a foam box beside her back door. Two days later she died and my mother helped me carry the box back to our place. One day that spring when I came home from school the bulbs had bloomed, they were the most beautiful sight I had ever seen.

* * *

What is it about being under a bridge? In the city they're always full of graffiti, I never like graffiti but I can understand why people need to leave their mark under a bridge, the scent of rebellion always lingers. There's always people who stop and kiss under a bridge. A park bench is just casual, in a cafe is just causing a scene but under a bridge seems so meaningful. There's always a musty damp smell. The sound of cars, trains and the general sound of people going about their business while underneath so disconnected and free.

* * *

Feeling thirsty and hot after my long walk, I went into a corner store to get a drink. There was a line up of people, so I squeezed passed and got a bottled mocha out of the fridge and stood in line. The girl in front of me had a ponytail she annoyingly kept swinging so I stepped back to avoid getting flicked. I looked up at the black and white prints of Elvis Presley and Marilyn Monroe on the walls. I like Elvis but I'm not mad on Marilyn Monroe; I like Audrey Hepburn much more. Someone in the front was having trouble with their credit card so I opened the mocha, it's the best way to drink coffee I think. They should have fans in here it's so stuffy. Jean Arthur has to be the cutest though. And Jimmy Stewart is cute too, I love when they're in the same film. What the hell is taking so long? I have to buy this drink now it's open. I hate life.

* * *

From a far off distance the enchantress watched the young man stumble up the rocky hill side. When he arrived at the stone platform near the top of the mountain he fell to the ground exhausted. The enchantress watched with morbid fascination as some crows pecked at the young man's flesh and and he tried waving them away. She tied her hair back and walked down the stairs to the a large flock of crows flocking over a flailing, bloodied body and shooed them away.

* * *

Susan is five, she lives with Molly the doll and Mr Brown the bear in her house. At the bottom of her garden was is house where her parents live, she loves to visit them.

The Puzzle Box

In my hand I hold a puzzle box and if opened contains the fullness of happiness. I am sitting in the chair of infinite wisdom and seated at the table of ultimate power. In the room which contains unlimited wealth. On the table lay two objects. The first is a knife and second a hammer. Any number of options fall before me. I could discover the puzzle and everything would fall into place as I open the box. I could take my life with the knife and fade away from the world around me. Or perhaps I could destroy the world around me with the hammer. Of cause even though the puzzle box presents itself as a challenge and mystery the eventual outcome is only one; a perfect heaven in chains. Perhaps I take the knife and elude the world, that's rebellion in some form because I wouldn't be submitting to it, but again another dead end which if honest with myself would I label as admitting defeat. The hammer lays on the table, motionless, making no opinion or objection to any outcome. My fingers gently slide over its handle. Herein lies freedom, rebellion, the choice to choose. With a thunderous crash the table flies apart and I realise I'm swinging the hammer. Time warps and in a moment the room is reduced to rubble, all but the puzzle box. For a moment my path is split in two and I gaze at the box before my arm swings the hammer down closing that fate forever. Without savouring the moment I crash down the walls around me and when the dust settles I see out of my small world for the first time. In my hand I hold a hammer...

Probably

I think what makes me when it comes to everything is that I think I have an opinion for it unlike most people who have an opinion for everything and that's a difference most people just don't understand.

Even Winning Can Be A Defeat

"You know that sooner or later you'll trip and it wont be because of a broken leg you can't get up. You feel that sometimes when you're on the top of a very high hill surveying the scenery below the your mind blocks out the thought of having to walk all the way down again because the sight is so beautiful. It's like driving to a party without enough fuel to get home, like buying something you really want when you wont have enough money left over or like loving someone when at the back of your mind you know it wont last. But that's what happens and afterwards you wonder how on earth you ever could have made such a bad miscalculated decision. Of cause at the time in back of your mind you know you're making a mistake but being a human and a computer are two different things. A computer never looks back or thinks what if and doesn't need to have all the experiences -good and bad- that humans do. Taking the path of least resistance doesn't make for the full experience that makes life worth living. Of cause just because a door is opened to you does not mean that one should go through, but on the other hand there are certain times when you need to shut out reason because you want to experience something just on that basis alone whatever the outcome. Say there was a hall filled with doors and as you walk down the first door opens, a man invites you to try a tasty dessert. Now here you could go in and it would be a treat you'd soon forget or ignore it and you know you wouldn't regret it no matter how much you want to try it now. A few more doors along a woman asks you to help her catch the white unicorn that has run off into the forest, a bad idea really but if declined I'd forever wish I'd taken the opportunity to catch a unicorn. Of cause no one doesn't take risks or do the 'wrong' thing because that's practically impossible. So people get in more debt to buy a nicer house, do things that are bad for their health and fall in love because..." The Moose shrugged and looked at me, "I can't think of anything sarcastic to say at the moment." I said kicking my toe on a rock "curses!!" The Moose giggled "You need hooves laddy." I snickered. After some time we came to a clearing in the forest and behold the branches parted revealing the naked body glistening like a droplet of molten bronze of a veyron -oh I'm sorry- then the muddy path continued through the dark forest like before and it started to rain and upon reaching into my pocket I saw my last kit kat was gone. Even the Moose was gone, 'what a relief' I thought. Although after a while I started to miss the Moose. At this point I stopped being lost in the woods because I felt like having some tea, so I wondered back to the library.

A Thousand Roses

Some people would have said that Molly Monty was was a flamingo but she was in fact not a flamingo as some people would have said. Now Molly Monty was at a difficult time in here life halfway between a woman and a girl (who were sitting in the bus stop with her-she didn't know them) when a thought came to her. I shan't say what the thought was because that would be an inappropriate invasion of privacy I think, but I may change my mind later. I changed it, the thought was this: If birds can fly then why can't I? (that's not the actual thought yet it's just the one leading up to it.) No actually I think it is an invasion of privacy to be honest.

* * *

On a side note I don't know who these people are that think Molly Monty is a flamingo, but they may be very, very decommissioned and disturbed because Molly Monty doesn't even look like a flamingo. Although once she thought that she'd like to be a flamingo so she pretended she was a flamingo by dressing up as a flamingo and acting like a flamingo to see what it was like to be a flamingo. Look now, I've gone and told you what the thought was.

* * *

Now while she was sitting in the bus stop between a woman and a girl Molly suddenly felt awkward because she suspected that they both knew she wasn't really a flamingo but was in fact a girl pretending to be a flamingo and so to ease herself through this difficult time in her life she began to sing in a sweet tinkly voice as she imagined a flamingo would sing.

Dewdrops falling

Down from a starry sky

I want to catch them all

So I hold out my tongue

But they pretend

They don't really know me

I forgot my name now

So I walk out and cry

Molly stopped singing and folded her hands in her lap and looked at the woman who had an unusually glum face, she didn't seam to have taken any notice of her. So Molly glanced sideways at the girl who was glancing sideways at her also. The girl looked very glum and had black lipstick and was dressed very odd.

'What a curious person' though Molly out loud, which was just unfortunate. The girl sneered her black lips and spat out her chewing gum which stuck to her lip. Molly watched in interest as the glum girl smeared black over her face and finally got the chewing gum off. 'I do believe I've forgotten why I'm sitting in a bus stop.' thought Molly, 'waiting to catch a bus perhaps?'. She turned to the girl who really did look quite frightful and asked of her name but the girl just shrugged. Molly thought about this, perhaps it was her name or maybe she was shy and didn't like to say her name. This seemed more likely for she had never heard of anyone whose name was a shrug. At that moment Molly noticed a very faint scent of a thousand roses drifting past so she arose and followed it. As she walked, she remembered the glum woman and glum girl in the bus stop and thought how very strange people can be and what a shame it is that they're so glum and not noticing the interesting things around them such as the scent she was now following. 'For' said Molly aloud 'If anyone was smelling this heavenly smell then they would be following it so they could find it and they'd have no-' she paused and searched for the right word 'Allowance, perhaps?'. By now she had gone a long way and was just scrambling through a car yard full of old broken cars when she saw the roof of a building over the fence. It was a glass roof and the sun reflected off it and Molly knew it was the home of the scent. She found a loose paling and pushed through. And there towering above the piles of wood, old cars, metal frames and rubbish stood the most beautiful thing in the world, a house made of glass.

Rant

I'm not saying I'm specialer than other people but I think about a lot of things and notice a lot of things that I think about such as what's the difference between "in" the bus stop and "on" a bus stop? I don't know, I think they're the same really. Anyway, there's been a lot of problems going around the world from what I've noticed so somebodies got to do something about it so why not me? Well that's pretty damn simple, for one I don't have a clue what's going on so how on earth can I fix the the world? Three I they make my nose itchy and four I think it's really stupid and boring. Think about it; just because they show it on television like "Oh look at me I'm a shiny person" you know it doesn't make me feel less then the person that I am. And who are they anyway, who do they think they are? You can ask me that question again and I still wont know the answer because in fact I don't even think it's really a question -I've never heard anyone ask it. Now take the environment and personal feelings or protests or pretests or pre-teens or whatever. It's all in the mind, pain and whatnot because I cut my finger on a pencil and did I cry? Hmm, let me think, No I didn't because I know how to make a cup of tea just like the next person and sometimes you've just got to know how to do some things by yourself and forget and be friends.

Deranged

When I first heard this I was swept away,

far off to a deserted valley where the wind howled,

and the grass bent and the rocks polished by the weather.

The sky was full of dark clouds racing over me,

and I shut my eyes, and when I opened them,

I'd forgotten everything, 

so I listened again for the first time...

Jig or stir

'It's true there really is something about interposing oddity in a pleasant environment. An element of discomfort felt only from the corner of ones eye; an ice cube in a steam bath, a pinprick in the course of a relaxing massage, a scent of death in a rose garden or an item strangely out of place in ones own bedroom. Is it the jarring of ones own security that causes the mind to subconsciously make the executive decision to block it out as though one never saw it? Now this is of cause the natural way the mind works filtering out the unneeded noises of people talking in a crowd, all the details one sees when walking down the street and so forth. This of cause is all healthy and one doesn't need to notice it so it is only received as the hum of conversation and blur of scenery quickly forgotten unless something jumps out and takes the senses by surprise e.g. a person screaming or even a strange conversation that grabs ones attention, and all the other things that cater to the senses by making themselves more then mere scenery. Now take a person with blue hair pushing a pram with a smashed television within, it's quite probable that the mind would say "this is interesting I've not seen anything like this for a while" and the result being you glance at the university student making their protest about capitalism. Now if they were in a ring with a crow of of onlookers that would trigger the response of expecting them to put on a show so you may even stop to watch them for a bit. But not to sidetrack. Some people's line of work or interest -investigators for example- train their minds to be open; to not disregard or block such details, hence being able to remember a button laying beside a dead body whereas most people would only notice the shocking sight of a dead body and most likely their mind has made the memory 'clouded or blurry' as most would put it and are unable to remember it properly at all. But in most cases one isn't confronted by things they're unable to ignore such as dead bodies so they go through each day oblivious to such things. Sometimes one will get the 'sense' or 'feeling' about something which is vaguely accredited to the notorious 'six sense' (which won't be discussed at this time) where this is most often the mind subconsciously pulling out certain "erased memories" such as the flower pot beside the front door facing another direction, the strange odour and the the kitchen door shut which it never is, singly such details that the mind simply disregards yet had put together when...' The Moose put picked up has glass of water and downed it in one gulp. 'I wonder' I said 'does the brain remember everything? Because there are like you were saying there are certain things that are unimportant at the time but later become important and are able to be remembered' the Moose nodded 'not to mention hypnosis is able to jig memories' I nodded 'is jig the right word?' the Moose nodded 'yes' I looked at him sceptically 'are you sure you know everything?' he nodded solemnly 'not at all'. I sipped my tea 'I think quite honestly stir would really have been a better word'.