Billie found a magic globe in the attic. Whenever she laid her finger on a random somewhere a boy exactly at the midpoint of her fingertip would fall in love. He felt all the pangs and desires and sensed the presence of his new beloved, but he did not know who she was or how to find her. When she placed her finger on the globe a second time, the girl of that boy's dreams turned her thoughts to him. Both would begin writing poetry to their unknown loves, feeling that someday, somehow they would be together. They would glimpse each other in nighttime dreams. In windows, across crowds, and begin desperate pursuit to find who it was. During the day they might absentmindedly jot down a face, and then realize it was that one special person. But never would they recognize who it might be. It was always someone they had never seen before. Indeed, they never had proof that that someone existed. Some went on believing the rest of their lives. Some hid their flame, grew older, and settled for a more sober kind of love. But at night, sometimes, they still would dream. And oftentimes an inspiration was felt emanating from that distant soul. Billie didn't know what to do now. She had placed her finger for the boy. And after placing her finger the second time she realized she had unintentionally selected herself.
Story #207
Note: This story was inspired by a poem I read at a blog called "The Angel's Cloud". A translation of the German language poem is in the comments section.
12 comments:
Poor Billie will be pining away, dreaming, wishing.
Will she ever be able to meet the boy?
That globe must be ruled by black magic. It's past midnight and my mind is fried. I'll be thinking of poor Billie.
My muse liked the story but told me the ending was mean. I have to agree with her/you. I think it has something of the ending to the Twilight Zone's "Time Enough at Last" where a bookworm survivor of a nuclear war finds a library and has brought together all the books he wants to read over the next years. Then his bifocals fall off and shatter on the hard library stairs.
Today's story kind of does cry for a sequel, doesn't it?
Unlike most of the matchmaker's prey, she knew in general approximation where to find her man. Of course, since love is blind, she still wouldn't know who this was... and neither would he. Like two ships that pass in the night, looking for each other's pirates...
Look carefully in the back and you'll see she has an infestation of Tribbles. At least she's more original than most folks... instead of writing Hello or a swearword or her name on the foggy glass, she wrote Health (santé).
You had noticed that, right?
I didn't notice all those other details. There was a second photo in the set of the girl with a girlfriend both looking at the globe together. At first I wanted to write the story to that one.
I wanted to capture the feeling of knowing there is someone somewhere in the world for you, but someone totally unreachable, maybe even halfway around the world. I thought Billie's advantage in knowing the approximate location might balance things out, but it's only implied, so it doesn't come through too strongly.
If I never had come to Europe, I never would have found the muse who was meant for me. I would be back in Ohio or upstate New York wondering who or where she might be.
I also remember a Funky Winkerbean comic I cut out in the seventies with a student day dreaming, something like "There's someone for everyone. Somewhere there's a girl who will fall in love with me. Unfortunately for me, she's probably in Norway."
I like this story a lot. One of my favorites of yours so far. Though I feel like I say that each time I comment on one of your stories. :-)
Thank you very much Sk8rn. You're allowed to have a new favorite every day. On most days the current story is my favorite, unless I feel I could have done better.
Awwwww... it's so true!
I have a feeling I'll be spending the rest of today cuddled up with my teen-aged angst!
In my experience so far, happy endings are few and far between. But I always hope...and hope is a powerful thing.
You have no idea how close to home that story hits...though I think you do. You seem to have fully grasped what i was trying to say on my poem.
I loved you story! I love endings like that, that leave me thinking of what would happen next...
Your muse is right; the ending is mean. But, of course, that's how life really is in most cases. That's why I go and see light hearted romantic comedies now and then; it keeps me hopeful. "The sun will come out tomorrow" kind of thinking, which we all need in order to not be depressed.
Cori: Next time I'll aim for making you feel like you're 16 again, but without the angst.
Annush: Your comment means a lot to me. It's the nicest thing anybody could have said.
Bracuta: I'm impressed to have a visitor from the Domincan Republic. I've always wanted to go there once. Thanks for your kind feedback.
Dtft: Thanks for the Poe equation. I absolutely love Poe. Thanks also for all the links and references. I like that artpad one. Did I understand right? Someone is going to shoot you tomorrow? I hope they don't and that you come back here to read more stories.
Jamie: Sometimes though the happy ends get too unbelievable for me. This is how I had to end this particular story, but usually my characters get what they deserve. In this case it's more of an unbalance. Though it may be more realistic.
per DT... My mantra is "say something cryptic and leave snickering". Ergo, much like reading a Gertrude Stein poem, sometimes you have to take the words at visual value, not at meaning.
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