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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2041234-Bubbles
by Mage
Rated: E · Short Story · Fantasy · #2041234
This was my first story and I feel it may be an apt way to introduce myself to all of you.
BUBBLES


I have stories in my head. I have so many that none of them can come out. They crowd around the doorway and push and squeeze each other trying to give themselves life. Occasionally parts of them break off-- it could be a Title, a Theme, a Summary or a Conclusion. They then float around like bubbles tempting me to catch them only to pop right when I get close. The soapy remains of the bubbles are the sentences that survive the arduous journey from my mind.

There was a girl who painted a pixie to life only to find that she had become the painting instead. The pixie was now the daughter of her parents and refused to paint the girl back to life;
The Seeker stood outside the door. Beyond lay everything he had worked for, his dreams and ambitions, his joys and sorrows, his struggles and his very reason for existence. With a turn of a handle he would finally be there. He hesitated for a moment and smiled. Then turned and walked away.
About how the world is actually a Giant who has chosen to curl up into a ball and go to sleep for billions of years. Upon waking up the Giant simply stands up, brushes all the dust off itself and goes home….
A Buddha who decided to become a kindergarten teacher and taught the children how to
Travel to other realms…
About sparrows who were once giant birds and liked eagle meat. They liked it so much that the ancient man whose magical powers depended on the survival of eagles fought an epic battle with the sparrows the end result of which was the shrinkage of the size of the sparrows and the end to magic in the world forever.
There is actually only one star in the sky for each one of us alive today--- the rest are just reflections due to giant mirrors placed at strategic angles.
…The Being was tired of standing in line to write his Story…it seemed everyone wanted to be Human these days…Suddenly the idea of purchasing the Story did not seem so bad. What harm could it do? So it wouldn’t get everything it desired but a vacation sounded really nice….
Kayla burned…she had flown too high too soon she thought. She screamed but no sound came out. It seemed like the rays of the sun had an aural quality which drowned every thing about her. She screamed her voiceless scream until she collapsed. Her father looked on with a mixture of pride and sadness. Proud that today was the day his daughter would become a woman, sad that she would never need his wings anymore…


Anyway you probably get the idea. I actually do not mind it so much…in fact I quite enjoy the occasional distraction from my predictable life.
The Smith press at the gym was occupied the other day by a demon. He was big and tall and not unlike the wrestlers we see on TV. He seemed to be struggling and gaspingly asked me to spot him. I walked over and noticed that his face was red. Not red with effort mind you but red as if it had been painted on.
“….7, 8. 9, 10!!!....Thank you so much for your helpfulness and humanity”. He chuckled as if he had just made a joke that only he could understand.
“Hate working out on my own, what about you?”
“Yes, me too”, I replied.
After an hour of training he tells me he has to leave as the last train left at 7.00 am.
“The late train is usually full of undesirables and my wife worries about me”
“That’s alright, I only have some stretches left “, I say.
“See you around then?”
“Sure”

Half an hour later, I am ready for work and after waving goodbye to the mermaid’s baby at the pool, I take the elevator to the parking garage. Although I don’t think it is that great for Merfolk to swim in chlorine ridden pools, who am I to judge? It must not be easy living in the ocean these days, what with all the pollution and getting stuck in fishing nets and all. I remind myself to buy the baby the stickers I had promised her last week.

At work, I pound away on my laptop.
“Ever get tired of coffee?”
“Huh?”
I wait till I finish typing my sentence.
“Actually no, I quite love the taste.” I reply.
“I really don’t understand how you can drink that bitter stuff. Give me a pint of fresh blood any day”
“Everything’s an acquired taste, I guess. Anyway, I have a long list of emails I need to reply. Can we do dinner tonight instead?”
“I don’t know, let’s see.”
“All right, call me ok?”
He winks as he walks through the window.

After 3 hours of working on the computer, I feel the need to go outside for some air.
He is sitting at his usual place. His metal face has lost some of the shine over the years I’ve known him but the little fountain behind him still absorbs the sunlight reflecting off his tin frame and causes the little renegade droplets to glisten like jewels. Just as they reach their brightest moment, they lose all their glory and fade into oblivion. I sit on the bench next to him, reach into my bag and take out my lunch. Tuna sandwich with lettuce and mustard. There are pigeons walking around us. The act like they own the place.
“I almost told her today. She was having one of her better days. Woke up fresh and happy, we went into the garden and had our breakfast under the elm tree. I know these kinds of days don’t come around very often. And it’s only a matter of time…..”
I find it hard to look into his eyes. I remember when I first met him. The Western Witch had not yet given him a heart in those days. His eyes were as expressionless then as they are now. But these days there is something else there too….a kind of an intense emotion. The pain of loving someone—a human--- for so many years without giving voice to it., the pain of taking care of her everyday through her illness, the pain of knowing that he could never tell her what he felt, the knowledge that she would be gone in a few weeks while he would be here forever. The lack of release that comes with tears…somehow all of this seemed to emanate from his eyes.
“Where do humans go when they die? What happens to their feelings, their dreams, and their desires?
Would you please complete my story?”
I feel a lump in my throat. I wish I had the power to help him. All I know is that he is forever trapped in this moment. The anxiety of her passing away, the hope that she will be at peace, the desire to reveal his true feelings. She for her part would not improve, nor would she get any worse. It was like fate was at a stalemate with itself.

A breeze begins to blow. The kind that makes you want to stand up and spread your arms and hope some of it seeps into your essence. Even the trees seem to dance to this beautiful music.

I walk away.

Somehow I am not in a mood to get back to work. I take off my tie and put it in my pocket. As I walk out of the park I see the pub that I often go to. It is not yet noon but I am sure they are open for lunch. I walk in and there is a man at the bar. He has on a trench coat and a big hat. I sit at the bar.
“What’ll you have?” the bartender asks.
“Whatever is coldest right now”

I watch as he pours my drink. The color is a beautiful dark amber. I look at it for a while. There are bubbles going down to the bottom of the glass. I wipe the droplets that are formed on the outside.
“There is something about that first sip of a nice cold beer, isn’t there? It must rank close to any rapture that humans have ever experienced. The way it goes down one’s throat to bring alive all the senses” I put my glass down and nod to the man next to me.
“Right you are” I say.
“I prefer bourbon myself” he tells me, “much lighter on your belly. I’m Kaster by the way. Sol Kaster”
“Hi”
We shake hands.
The top half of his face is shadowed by his hat. All I can see is a small nose and moustache.
“So what do you do, Sol?” I ask,
“You mean for a job?”
“Uh huh”
“Well, I peer into peoples’ souls….by casting myself into their bodies and seeing what they are feeling at that point of time. I do a random sampling of how their emotions affect their souls.”
“Hmm. So is it like you experience what they are feeling? You empathize with their emotions and help them deal with life?”
“No, nothing so noble. All I do is note and report what is going on. Sort of a census. We need to know and compile monthly reports on the state of humans. If a soul is getting too damaged we might retire them or prevent them from any further experiences.”
“So you mean you are like one of those quality control people?”
“I guess you could say that”.
“Does it get a little tedious?”
“Oh, the paperwork involved is simply crazy. But we also get to know a lot of what is happening in peoples’ lives. It can be quite entertaining really.”
“How long do you stay in their bodies?”
“As long as we feel is necessary to get a proper sample. Of course there have been cases of abuse as some of my colleagues get so caught up in the lives that they never want to leave. Some life stories can be quite engaging you see”
“I guess every job has its risks.”

I say nothing for a while not wanting to encourage him any more. I actually wanted to have a quiet drink and was not looking for any more conversation than necessary.

“I just emerged from that man.” He nods towards a middle aged man perched on a stool by a round table.
“Already a grandfather at 54. He loves his 6 year old grandson. On Sundays he takes him fishing. They share a love for cars. He just bought a Hummer and they take it out for a spin. His relationship with his son, though, is a different matter...”
His voice trails off.
“And you see that lady there?”
I turn around to see a pleasant looking 40ish lady. She has short black hair and is dressed in khaki slacks and a tee shirt.
“Well she is the single daughter of a publishing tycoon. She went to the perfect school, got perfect grades, worked her way up in her father’s firm, and got married to the perfect man. She has two beautiful children attending a prestigious private school. The perfect lady with the perfect life. “
“”Sounds very nice” I say.
“She has just decided to never go back home.”
“You mean right now?”
“Yes”
“Why?”
“No reason. She woke up this morning and everything was good and normal. She made that decision a few minutes ago.”
“So now what?” I ask.
“We will just have to wait and find out. Hold on.” He tilts his head to one side for a couple of seconds then looks at me.
“Sorry, I have to go. Duty calls”.
We shake hands and I turn back to my drink. A sip later and there is no sign of him.

It is drizzling when I go outside. The sun is still shining though and I see a rainbow out in the distance. My heart beats faster and I start running towards the beach. As I approach the spot I slow down and look up. There is no sign of her yet. I sit down on the sand and look out at the ocean. The waves are gentle and the foam runs over my feet. I begin counting the waves. 1, 2, 3, 4 big ones 1, 2, small ones. ..1, 2, 3, 4, 5, big; 1, 2, 3, small. I do this for what seems like a very long time.
Something makes me look up at the sky. I see a bright figure hopping from one white fluffy cloud to the next making its way to the rainbow. It then climbs on the rainbow and slides down it on to the sand next to me.
I look at her. Yellow tank top and blue shorts—her favorite outfit. Her dark brown hair is in a braid.
“What is the dance of a moonbeam called?”
“What is the sound of someone smiling?”
“Has anybody actually seen themselves?”
“What is the color of a bubble blown from black soap?”

I smile and shake my head at her.
“Do you always have to ask so many questions?”
“Because you never seem to answer any of them!”
She giggles and looks at me.
I stand up lift her in my arms and hold her tight.
“I missed you. But does this mean I’m dreaming again?” I ask.
“All of us are dreaming” she says.
I look into her dancing jet black eyes and put her back down.
“Let’s go home, daddy” she says.
I nod and we hold hands as we walk towards the rising moon.


----May 5, 2006
© Copyright 2015 Mage (mage22 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2041234-Bubbles