Friday, June 24, 2005


Sandra sat in the place with the chairs, staring intently at them. Each fixture represented a person with whom she had shared intimacy of emotion and sometimes, intimacy of the body. But they had parted company from her, as they found they were walking hand in hand on parallel paths that suddenly wound away into opposing distances. But Sandra's imagination was lively. She thought of faces she had known, summoned auras out of the aftertaste that lingered in her. When all the seats were filled the party began, and Sandra was the guest of honor. They sang songs to her, served her drinks, showered her with conversations which had begun way back when, but were never finished. When the last glass was empty, and the last word spoken, and the last kiss placed, her friends found it was time to return, some to the deep dream of sleep, some to a daytime reverie or the sudden remembrance of their dear friend Sandra who in reality had never existed.

Story #243

11 comments:

Rachel said...

I have to congratulate you, and at the same time ask you if this blog makes part of a community of blogs of this kind. i find it so intriguing and exceptional. i am myself thinking of trying this experiment myself.

best regards,

Indeterminacy said...

Hi Mme. There are lots of writing communities, writing webrings, but I don't really know about them. Mushroom does something similar at spackle.saysomethingcryptic.com. And Michael at blogin_idiot.blogspot.com does a Friday photo he invites everyone to write something to. Let me know if you start something so that I can come and read it.

Indeterminacy said...

P.S. Thanks for saying all those nice things.

Tom & Icy said...

Wow! That was a shocker for me. It took my breath there at the end. Love it.

Doug said...

Stunning story, but Sandra looks 12-14 years old. I love the text but with the girl in the picture it's a little creepy. Are you suggesting that when we fantasize people we have different boundaries? Or does she just look a lot younger to me than she did to you? And should I seek help?

Indeterminacy said...

Tom&Icy&Doug: I didn't realize the story was that intense, but I guess it was. I don't always have the objectivity to judge how someone else will "feel" my stories. I happen to know how old the girl in the picture is. She is young, but not so young that you have to worry. I believe she's just finished high school.

Rachel said...

Thank You. I especially like Michael's page, besides yours. my only fear is that my English is not good enough to write something literary. this stops me from trying. i could do it in my mother tongue but i fear it doesn't have any inerest at all.

but thanks anyway. i'll think about it and if i do it i will give you the link. you have a link back to me, woman's view.

regards

The Mushroom said...

Isn't life just a game of musical chairs? We start the music, we invite the guests, and we tempt them to find a place to sit in our lives... and we find that there's always one less chair than person, and unconsciously maintain that ratio to keep our schedules weeded out, until we have just one (potentially with others just standing around looking confused and left out)?

Age is no object if she's strong enough to move the chairs and there's a place for me to sit.

A Little Bar of Soap said...

There's something quite Satanic about this blog. Satan, get thee BACK!

fluff said...

unique story. when I saw what yellow the photo is, I was sure your going to write something with that, of course I was wrong. :)

what is your mother language Mme Jannings? in Hungary we too say "mother language".

Cori said...

Lovely!

I like the idea Mushroom had about musical chairs- that was beautiful.

-Thank goodness for Ikea! You can always pick up an extra seat real cheap. ;)

The photo is absolutely beautiful too!