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Saturday, December 1, 2018

BRIGHT MIRAGE_WEP post



BRIGHT MIRAGE
{A Beware the Jade Christmas Interlude}
1000 words


 “To live in hearts we leave behind 
is not to die.”

– Ingrid Durtz



Lucas often told me behind enemy lines that I was like Anna Karenina,  

the kind of woman that if you want to kill, you have to hit with a train.


I wondered if those words haunted him when I died in his arms.   

Since possessing this young policewoman’s body three months ago here in New Orleans, I have never asked.


We have talked about that which really matters.


That first night after the Le Prete murders when I awakened in this body in that horrid mansion, 

we had a wide-ranging conversation:


We talked about love, fate, and everybody’s inability to truly leave the past behind. 

It was all said in a simple kiss that had my lungs feeling as if they were going to burst through my chest.


I put the last candle on the Yule tree in my modest room in the Ponchartrain Hotel, 

courtesy of Lucas who needlessly refused to tarnish my reputation with my sharing his own suite.
 

When you have died and reawakened in another’s body, a tarnished reputation was the least of your worries.   

Being alone with the dread that I would return to the Darkness was the chief.


Perhaps that was why I was celebrating Saint Lucia’s Feast this thirteenth of December as I had as a little girl in Sweden.


I softly sang:

Natten går tunga fjät 

(The Night steps heavily)

Sankta Lucia, ljusklara hägring

(Saint Lucia, bright mirage)

Ute är mörkt och kallt

(Outside, it's dark and cold). 


There was a knock on the door.  I sighed.   

My table was not yet fully set.   

The lussekatt, the traditional holiday rich, spiced sweet bun flavoured with cinnamon and nutmeg, still hadn’t arrived from the bakery.


I opened the door to a startled Harry Stills.


“What the blazes?” 


Harry was the hotel detective. 


He was a wiry man whose seamed face said he’d seen more than he wanted, had cared more than was wise.  

 Harry wisely trusted Irene Dupré, the actress, not at all 

and looked upon me as the daughter he’d lost in 1920 to the Spanish Flu which killed anywhere from 3 to 6% of the world’s population.


“Your hair’s on fire!”


I shook my head with its candled-adorned halo.  

 “No, Harry.  Tonight is the Feast of St. Lucia. I am dressed like her, and this Christmas Tree is ablaze with her candles.”


He darted in my room, shutting the door behind him.   

“Honey, you’re lucky you got me riding shotgun for you. The management catches you lighting fires in your room, and it won’t be your room!”


I patted his face.  

 “I was an O.S.S. agent, Harry.  I burn down a building only when I mean to.”


I walked to the table, picked up a goblet, and handed it to him. 


 “Here, have some spiced Glögg.  

 Its name means ‘glow,’ and being served warm and made up of red wine, port, and brandy, it will certainly add a glow to your chest.”


Harry eyed my tree, counting the candles silently. “There’s an empty spot in the center.”


“That is its heart where a very special item is placed.”



He hesitantly withdrew a faded scarlet ribbon whose gilt edges were nearly invisible.  

 “This was Ruthie’s favorite Christmas ribbon.  I’ve nearly worn it away, thinking of her over the years.”


His wet eyes blinked,


“I've just about worn it out, but it was worn out with love, and that's the best kind of worn-out. Maybe we're all like this ribbon. 

Maybe there really isn't any such thing as mortality.  Life simply wears us out with love.”


Nazi bullets had ended me, but this was Christmas, and my gift to Harry was to allow him to warm himself in this bright mirage.


I kissed his cheek. 

 I forgot how spiritual Harry was despite his police past.   

I’d been raised a Methodist where the highest sacrament was the bake sale.


The door opened without any knocking.  

 Irene Dupré, the lover of my dead sister, Marta. 


 She was as unbalanced and deadly as the Cheshire Cat, but Marta always fell for the dangerous ones.


Irene elegantly walked towards us in a gossamer gown, speaking in a voice like the Taj Mahal by moonlight.


 “You came back from the grave while my Marta is denied me.  You look so much like her.   

The sight of you quickens my heart yet wounds it in the self-same moment. I hate you.”


Only then did I notice the Luger in her hand.


Harry reached into the pocket where he kept his gun.  I shook my head.  He would not reach it in time.


Irene’s insane eyes met mine.


The synchronic circles of our pasts triggered a lethal domino-fall, 

and the steady clinking grew until it drowned any possible words I could say with the silent thunder of consequence.  

 Still, I spoke, for Lucas could not survive me dying again without him.


“You can let grief destroy you.  Or you can realize that every moment of the love you shared 

possessed more meaning than you realized. The laughter of each day you took for granted was priceless.”


The Luger trembled.


 I continued.


“One day you will be driven to your knees.  Not by grief, but by gratitude for what preceded this loss. 

The ache will always be there, but one day not the emptiness, because to nurture the emptiness, to take solace in it, would be to disrespect the gift of the love you shared with Marta.”

Irene husked, “It is like listening to Marta.  For that ….”


She pocketed the Luger.  

 “I will let you live if for nothing else than to hear the echoes of her voice.”


She turned, walking out of my room into the night.


Harry rasped, “You know the difference between an asshole and an anus?”


I shook my head.


“An anus can’t point a Luger at you."


The laughter that followed was Harry’s Christmas gift to me.

47 comments:

  1. Hello Roland. I enjoyed your panoply of characters peopling the hotel room. Loved the cultural aspects such as Saint Lucia's feast and the clever dialogue supported by the images.

    Merry Christmas Roland! Happy New Year!

    Denise

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    1. 3 is a panoply? Well, Irene Dupre is conceited enough to think she is a panoply all by herself! Merry Christmas to you, too, Denise!!

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  2. "Maybe there really isn't any such thing as mortality. Life simply wears us out with love."

    Or with some other emotion. This line stood out for me, among all the other outstanding lines. Really liked the cultural details of St Lucia's festival too, and the glowy beverage.

    Season's greetings to you. And thank you for a lovely read, as always.

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    1. Ingrid thought Harry wrong but then she was killed by Nazi bullets for the love she had for Lucas ... so she was "worn out" by love after all! :-) Season's Greetings to you, too, Nilanjana! :-)

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  3. Echoing Nilanjana. I hope (so much) that most people are worn out with love rather than the other emotions we are prey to.

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    1. Like you and Nilanjana, I side with Harry in this. :-)

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  4. It's very neat how you included St. Lucia's crown of candles in your story, but I particularly enjoy the distinctive New Orleans undercurrent and wry humor that you always manage to infuse into your work. Well done!

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    1. Susan, I actually "live" with my characters so I "hear" their dialogue in my head. As Chandler was with L.A. in the forties, I try to be with New Orleans in 1946. Thanks so much for the nice compliment! :-)

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  5. I'm awestruck by your writing, how you take us to so many rich and multifaceted realms. I shouldn't have taken so long to (re)visit. The image with "Your hair's on fire!" is perfect.

    Be well, safe, and loved.

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    1. You, too, Robyn. :-) St. Lucia's Feast is certainly a bright one, right?

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  6. I enjoyed the sentiment of "Life simply wears us out with love." While this is not the case for all, hopefully it is the case for most.

    Your descriptions are wonderful, and I love the portrayal of St. Lucia's Feast.

    Oh, and the ending made me laugh so hard. Thanks for that!

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    1. L.G.: thanks for mentioning you laughing at Harry Stills parting shot. I was concerned that his/my humor had offended people.

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  7. A beautiful and unearthly work. Truly enjoyed it.
    Dixie Jo Jarchow

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    1. Dixie Jo, I am so happy you enjoyed my ghostly take on a New Orleans Christmas. :-)

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  8. A lovely tale, love and reincarnation. Deja vu all over again! You are an amazing story teller! Love it!
    Happy Holiday's and Merry Christmas with a bright New Year included!

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    1. Yolanda, I tried my best to entertain and warm with this ghostly tale. May you have a lovely Christmas and a terrific New Year. :-)

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    2. Roland, thank you ever so much for such a lovely gift. What a wonderful surprise!

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  9. ...wears us out with love...
    Love it! Lovely images as always Roland!!

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    1. I think a tale is always enhanced by images and tugs at the heart. :-) Lovely Christmas, Jemi.

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    2. Thank you for the lovely gift! A terrific surprise! :)

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  10. He was a wiry man whose seamed face said he’d seen more than he wanted, had cared more than was wise. This is the line that caught me. You say so much with so little and I "saw" him so well through this description. An intriguing story...

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    1. Thanks so much, Lisa, for enjoying this little ghostly tale of love and loss. Have a warm and lovely Christmas! :-)

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  11. A touch of humor in the face of a near death experience, even to someone who's come back is still pretty clever. A wonderful story with fun descriptions.

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    1. Toi, you made my morning. :-) I'm happy you liked my little St. Lucia tale.

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  12. Very clever, and intriguing. Really drew me in, and on... Well done!

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    1. Jemina, thanks for liking my little tale of lost and reborn love. :-)

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  13. Will you just stop, Roland Yeomans!!!! You had me captivated and laughing at the same time.

    These are my absolutely favorite lines:

    When you have died and reawakened in another’s body, a tarnished reputation was the least of your worries. 

    I’d been raised a Methodist where the highest sacrament was the bake sale.

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    1. Mark Twain said nothing can stand against laughter. :-) I am so happy you enjoyed Ingrid's adventure.

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  14. I always expect an interesting take on the WEP prompts from you and you didn't disappoint me. An intriguing story that drew me in.
    Shalom aleichem,
    Pat G

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    1. Pat, I do try to come at these prompts from an unexpected angle. Thanks for enjoying this one! :-) Shalom aleichem, Roland

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  15. Great descriptions and can't beat humor too!

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    1. Thanks, Pat. Danger seems to make humor stand out more, doesn't it? And finding the grace to laugh seems to make stress more bearable somehow. :-) Merry Christmas!

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  16. Hi Roland!
    I got here... finally.
    Well, I visited earlier and then left... then did some googling and now I'm back.
    I had to google Feast of St. Lucia because of the candle-adorned halo photo above. So I learned, among other things, that according to legend she brought "food and aid to Christians hiding in the catacombs" using a candle-lit wreath to "light her way and leave her hands free to carry as much food as possible. Interesting.

    I love this: "The synchronic circles of our pasts triggered a lethal domino-fall,

    and the steady clinking grew until it drowned any possible words I could say with the silent thunder of consequence." Beautiful!

    This story is delivered in your distinct voice, tinged with your wonderful brand of humor!

    Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you, Roland.
    Stay safe!

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    1. Michelle, an inventive, compassionate, brave lady, wasn't she? The reported details of her fiery execution are both eerie and sad. :-(

      I have driven 417 miles and worked 13 hours straight today, and your compliment made my weary evening much better. :-) Merry Christmas to you, too!

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  17. Cool story! I wouldn’t have thought of having a mix of such beautiful feeling with... repurposed dead people?

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    1. Death is only the beginning with love. :-) Especially during Christmas! :-)

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  18. An interesting look at reincarnation. Pity the heroine couldn't talk her previous killers into not killing her when she was still alive, like she talked Irene. Maybe she has some special powers of persuasion now, because she is already dead?

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    1. Her killers were Nazi's during a battle, and there is no persuasion possible on the battleground. Ouch! :-)

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  19. Very very clever indeed and so profound. A thoroughly enjoyable read. I'm not going to critique it, I was too carried away by it. Here's wishing you a Merry Christmas and a wonderful New Year.

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    1. Thank you for the wonderful words about my short tale. If I had your email address, I would send you the Christmas Ghost Tale to which it is a prelude, Beware the Jade Christmas -- set in 1946 New Orleans, peopled with those whose bruised spirits and frayed dreams find their past choices either make the season magical or murderous.

      Have a lovely, healing Christmas and better New Year. :-)

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  20. Your economy and mastery amazes this Roland, Roland. Great dialogues and descriptions with snippets that echo so many eras and cultures - well two. St Lucia's festival lends a different festive touch - and makes such visual use of the challenge theme.

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    1. Thanks for the nice words, Roland. I try for distant but still close eras to lend a certain ambience of nostalgia and yearning to my tales. That you like my dialogue and descriptions mean a lot since those items from Raymond Chandler taught me their importance in drawing a reader. Merriest of Christmases, Roland!

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  21. An interesting multi-cultural take on the prompt. The blending of past and present works and aids in the flow of piece of flash fiction. Well Done.

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  22. What a timely interpretation Roland. You weave your words and images very well. I hope Inger comes by to read this one.

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    1. She sent me an email saying she had. Christmas can be trying for those who have suffered during the previous months. She is spending Christmas Eve alone this year. Say a prayer, will you? :-)

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