At The Attic: april 2009

Fake tales, the undone part that is just some sort of scribbled crap

It's morning by the docks of the old town. Seagulls are screaming, flying high up into the sky. Pale blue sky with some white clouds drifting above their heads. Rabbits, and kings and cherries. A cold wind is blowing and wave upon wave is roaring into the shore. Is this fake tales as we know it? No it is fake tales at peace, when they meet up in a dream where everything is real. A man without face is walking the boulevard, he senses there is something in the air. He can't see, but he can feel. Feel them. All four of them. And in his head an image pops up, the image of four girls. All four of them wonderful creatures embraced by the salty air. Wind in their hair. Black mascara scars on her cheek.

She is holding a bottle of Vodka Martini in her hand. She switched to something stronger then vodka that night. How she regrets it. How could she not remember. That stupid phone call, she could have lived in sheer ignorance.

Happy and bliss, she'd do anything to do it over again. How simple the choice was, how simple it was to choose wrong. One wrong and you fly, another one and you end up by the docks. She can't even remember taking the choice. But did it really happen?

This is just a dream, remember. This is just a dream, and as the sun leaves the sky, the whole of the moon pops up from the water. And the stars. The stars are chasing each other across the water. Like little kids playing hide and seek on a late night.

She can't remember a thing.

One catch herself wanting to capture the stars, capture something so beautiful. How horrible of her. She was so drunk and he just beamed her up. He hit so hard. She didn't know what to do. Was it his way of showing her his love for her. He hit so hard. A soft hand touches her back, and tells her it's okay.

It's not her fault. But isn't it really? Didn't she drive him to do it. He didn't even really touch her. She wishes he had. She wishes he had hit her. Hit so hard. Something, something legitimized. Just so she could feel it. She misses him, it, that. The ghost of it all. The feeling.

They all look at the sea, the old man knows, but he feels that it is not the sea alone they are looking at. He senses something, another presence. And then he knows. He just knows, that what they are looking at, is the very same thing he's been searching for his hole life. He never found it...
Is this a dream he asks for himself. This is a dream...
and a nightmare

She sees him, standing there in the deep water, at the bottom of the ocean. She wants to reach for him, the whole of him. Something is keeping her back, she wonders what it is. He's so beautiful,

she wants this beautiful piece of heaven. He plays the guitar, softly strumming the chords. She wants to hear his voice. She walks to the edge of the docks, but a hand takes her own and holds her back. She want's him so bad. «You can't jump» she tells her.

«You just can't, what are we to do without you, I am not whole without you.» «But I am not whole without him», she bends down and touches the cold surface of the water, water in her face. Is it tear? «I want it so bad. But it's going nowhere. He is stranded at the bottom of the ocean and I'm high up here in the sky. I just want him to hold me again.»
«There is an ocean of differences separating us...» She falls apart and blows away with the wind.

She smiles, she is not like that. She has something, something beautiful filling her opp, as if she is ready to burst, right there, by her side.

He is holding her hand. Holding tight. She has never been as free as she is in that moment, the moment that lasts for ever. The moment she is sharing with him. The others, they can’t see him, they know he is in her head constantly, but they can’t see the way his hand gently wraps around her own. How perfect they are. How perfect.

She is about to fall asleep, the blue notebook slips out of her hand and falls gently to the floor. On it, tales are written. There is something in the air, the scene changes, there are light everywhere, but the moon, its upside down. She is sitting on the roof top of an empty compartment store.

And when her eyes close she feels his hand on her back, soothing her, comforting her back into sleep. She feels so safe in this utterly strange city, knowing that he is out there somewhere. She looks into his eyes and they totally stone her.

I can't stop thinking about you,
how your eyes make me tremble.

I can't stop thinking about you,
how your touch haunts me in my dreams.

I can't stop thinking about you,
how your absens gives me sleepless nights.

The old man drowned himself by the way.

To A.T.A
I'm so sorry for my absence lately. You all know where my mind has been...