OneJen
Three pieces of toast popped out of the toaster today.
Wait... three?
How an extra toast got into the machine, I have not the tiniest clue.
But clearly it was impossible.
My only options were these:
1. My eyes were playing with my brain
2. Someone had put another toast on one side
3. I wasn't thinking when I was placing the slices of bread.
I had to cross out option. 3 because I WAS concentrating.
Dad was the only person in the house and he was still in the shower...
Or was he?
Babysitting a child was not as easy as I had thought; yet mothering a child turned out to be worse. As Kate tripped over her new Barbie car, opened her pink mouth and wailed, I was taken back to my youthful days when life seemed so... open.
"Captivate my mind... Captivate it!"
For once I imagined myself being taught of wizardry by a professor in a fantastical school.
But my focus returned and I only noticed myself facing my teacher's stern face.
Such ordinaries...
When people think about art, they imagine splashes of vibrant colour, a canvas scribbled with fascinating drawings, a spark of imagination.
But when I think about art, I imagine something different, something that may not seem art at all.
A dot.
There were staples on the cork board, but no notes.
Casually, I asked Emily why there were no notes.
She merely replied
"That's the point, they're invisible"
I was set. I was ready.
"You ready, Kat?" The teacher eyed me firmly.
I rubbed my hands confidently, "Ready." I nodded.
I checked my cat costume tip-to-toe for the hundredth time.
Ears, face, paws, tail... Oh, that face! I couldn't help but feel the furriness with my bulgy paws.
"...my dear, I must depart now. When you remember me in deep sorrow, look at the bright side of the world and do not worry about me..."
"Worry about you? Why you're not the thing to bloody worry about! I'M the poor, wretched one here..."
"Yes, I know, my dear. You'll be fine, I promise."
"I mean I'll be the poor soul left alone to worry about whether her husband will buy striped pyjamas instead of SPOTTED pyjamas. Do you know how much I hate stripes? I want spots, spots, SPOTS!"
As the screeching words and the laughter echoed, I practiced my 'meow' part.
It must be like imitating a real cat, I recalled my teacher's words.
Suddenly, I felt a hard push behind me. Losing my step, I skipped uncontrollably forward, stopping myself right next to the end of the curtain. Recollecting myself, I turned up to hear the line...
"Kitty... kitty, where the devil are you?"
Mindlessly, I scurried to the stage. I was on the spotlight.
"Oh, there you are my kitty." the actress said with a relieved look.
As I cleared my throat for the 'meow'.... BANG! The theatre door flung open and crashed to the wall. A shooting gust of wind blasted into the room, snatching away all the warmth.
It was like a monster, an angrily crying monster searching for something... or someone.
The grand doors with intricate winding patterns... the blinding sight of pure gold sparkling in the sunlight...
As I opened my eyes, my thoughts were suddenly broken.
There were no grand doors. Oh, nor were there beautiful patterns or sparkling ores.
Indeed my eyes could not bear the blinding sight... the blinding sight of dusty, shattered paper doors.
I gasped. What of my dream doors?
The man was so polite that Jane was lost in words.
Never had such a gentleman appeared in the humble town of Noll.
People said that he was a great influence to youth learners.
But at that moment, Jean thought of something else.
There was good influence... or there was bad influence.
And when it was bad, it was very, very bad.
Already, Jean sense the badness of it, the greediness.
A pleasantly slight tang, derived from the sweet scone, gave me a kiss.
A kiss in the tongue, and therefore my tongue's sweet air was what it gave me.
But then, it escaped and lost hold of it, all over again.
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writing since 2013 · 74 entries · 71 days shown up
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