sleepychameleon's Stories

Prologue

2008-03-12T01:00:48Z

Come on in, ye passersby,
For I have tales to tell
Stop to listen and stay to hear
If you but have the time….

Empty House

2008-03-12T00:58:57Z

—Long hallway, seeming to stretch out into infinity, hardwood flooring but covered with a dusty carpet somewhere between spring and olive green. Doorways, some open and some closed. A staircase somewhere behind him, curving down into what Geoffrey knew was now an empty foyer, uselessly grandiose for mingling afternoon parties and evening soirees that no longer happened. He padded down the hall, noiselessly; in his trail a small cloud of dust motes danced in the rays of the afternoon sun streaming in from the outside. The scene shifted, and Geoffrey found himself in the middle of an empty room. Gilt paneling from the Rococo, a bucolic scene above the mantelpiece, dust in the grate but no ashes from a charred log, not even mouse droppings to indicate that any life had actually ever been present to feel the loops and curlicues of the panel’s decorative flourishes, to look at the painting or poke the fire.

A conversation

2008-03-12T00:55:19Z

Two men at a small table, a full English tea service laid out between them.

-Hmm. [looks into teacup] Interesting. Take a look. What do you see?

[the teacup is handed across the table]

-What, you read tea leaves?

-Sort of, yes. Well?

-I see…a man, running. His body leans forward. I can’t tell if he’s running away or chasing someone. His knee is up, though, and he looks pretty athletic. [puts the teacup back on the table, where it is refilled] So? What’s my fortune?

-[shakes head] Reading tea leaves won’t tell you the future. It tells you about the person reading them…a kind of Rorshach test, if you will. At least, that’s my interpretation. Maybe someone knows differently.

[they sip from their filled teacups, in silence]

Beginnings

2008-03-12T00:53:40Z

One hot summer night a girl left her room on Durant Avenue and wandered into the world to look for love and fortune with only a full moon to guide her way.

She didn’t know where she was going or how she would get there or what she was looking for. She just knew, with the same unerring sense that told her which of her dreams would come true and which ones were just dreams, that she needed to go. And so she packed a change of clothing and a few days supply of underwear, closed her windows and turned off the fan, made her way quietly down the stairs without disturbing any of the household, and slipped out into the night, quietly locking the door behind her.

And then she started walking.

Galatea

2008-03-12T00:49:03Z

At last he’ll press his lips to hers
To lips that once were cold as stone
And now melt warmth, respond to his

The maid feels kisses on her lips
She rouses from her marble slumber
Raises her eyes to meet her lover’s

And sees both his blue and the skies

Six Words

2008-03-12T00:32:22Z

Her headstone:

DUTIFUL
DAUGHTER ,
NOT
DOORMAT .

...........................

Revenge Against the Monkey

2008-03-12T00:22:57Z

The crocodile thought, sleepily, as the chemicals took over most of his systems, that it had been a good move. Maybe not the smartest move, but good, judging by the taste of the blood in his mouth. The expression on his tormentor’s face had been worth it, anyway, worth the shot afterwards. Pain is so fleeting for us reptiles. It didn’t seem quite the same case for the pink hairless monkey from whom he’d ripped his prize. He gave the arm one last thoughtful bite down, as if testing the consistency of the flesh, before giving way to the blackness.