Tuesday, April 25, 2006

Entry #16

“Lights Extinguished”
by Lucretia Janice


I remember the antique shop window, as clearly as if it were yesterday. Bric-a-brac arranged in ordered chaos and in the centre, those iridescent lamps, sparkling like treasure in the early evening light. How I coveted and dreamt of owning them! Every afternoon, I would hold my breath, as I neared the shop, praying they were still there and over time, my desire to own them became an obsession.

That we both arrived simultaneously one blustery Saturday morning to purchase them, was a rare miracle - something we marveled over for months. It became our binding story, our myth, which cemented the fathomless mystery of fate and our part in it.

Afterwards those twins became apostrophes on either side of our bed, enclosing ‘us’ together, forever until death do us part, in an ethereal embrace, like moonlight beacons in a sea of endless love.

I can’t recall when you brought that oppressive painting into our house. It was purchased in a guilty moment and presented to me as compensation for all the lonely days and cold nights apart, the times away from me that you could never fully explain. I accepted it with uneasiness and a sense of foreboding but no matter how many peace offerings were given, the breaks and tears became gaping holes in the fabric of our life and eventually, they were moved to the table.

That you should choose to leave just these three possessions behind, is a twist more cruel than fate should ever allow.

11 comments:

Anonymous said...

A knife twisted in the gut. Very well-written!

Flood said...

...twins became apostrophes on either side of our bed, enclosing ‘us’ together...

Really great line.

Bernita said...

Well done!
That apostrophe image, particularly.

Jaye Wells said...

Wow, very good. Ditto on the apostrophe image.

Jeff said...

I was also struck by the apostrophe image. Good job. :)

Erik Ivan James said...

The apostrophe image is unique. Creative writing.

Robin said...

Wow, fantastic story!

Lyn said...

Flood is always the first to mention the great lines and images - so ditto that. The mood shifted so quickly with the second to last paragraph that I was caught unawares - if that was your intent, then it worked: I felt the betrayal. Just on a nit-picky note: you don't need a comma at "purchase them, was a rare miracle" nor in the last line at "three possessions behind, is a twist. . . ." For what it's worth. Nice crisp story. Lyndon

Anonymous said...

Ah, such beautiful prose. She should have been burning the painting in the fireplace while she and the lamps watched it disintigrate.

Bhaswati said...

Lovely piece of writing. This is prose that reads like poetry. Great use of images to show a relationship falling apart.

Anonymous said...

Lucretia, I'm impressed you built an entire history and storyline for the three objects. In so short a space, too!

High marks for enjoyment and storytelling.