#but then it got kind of kitschy and I spent the rest of the dream having anxiety over the weird upside down type tentacle muck that kept | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

magic5ball · 3 years

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12 Stories (1)

The House of Lost Things:

The 1st Story

After my Father died, I became a tramp. He had been a wealthy man, Father, so that his inheritance ensured I would never have to want for anything again. So I sold my house, deciding to walk across Pennsylvania on foot. Because I could.

As it turned out, Pennsylvania was a big state. A big state covered in forests. Very bad place to, say, lose your map.

So guess what I did.

I could have sworn I left it in my back pocket! Could squirrels have taken it? Raccoons? I would have noticed them sneaking into my tent, so that was unlikely.

From memory I knew the nearest town was somewhere to the west, although I didn’t know the specifics beyond that. I kept walking, certain if I ventured far enough, I would remember where my map was, dreaming of a hot breakfast after days of eating nothing but protein bars. It was fall at the time, and I recall staring up at the leaves as they burned orange and red before dropping to the earth.

It had to be close to evening when I found the house, because the trees cast long shadows and the wind was whistling cold on my cheeks.

From the outside, it was a smallish, two story affair; pink with white trim. Something out of a fairy tale but with more plaster. If the darkness in single second story window was any indication, nobody was home. Maybe I should have been wearier of a strange house in the middle of a forest like that, miles from the nearest town, but kitschy stuff was not unusual on Pennsylvania’s fringes. Hell, once I’d come across a steamboat in the middle of a wheat field!

I rapped the door. Nothing. Checked the handle. It turned in my grasp. And not wanting to chance the elements another night, I slipped inside,

And was greeted with stuffed animals, deflated water slides, stacks and stacks of board games…

But what stood out most was the giant carousel the center of it all, four stories high and like the house, pink with white trim. It must have been made locally, too, since the paintings on the cresting showed covered bridges, horse-and-buggies, and other such scenes from the Pennsylvania countryside. In place of horses, the thing had fancy, gnarled beasts straight out of folklore. One bumpy green, horned thing I recognized as a Hodag.

The fanciful sight made my skin crawl. As I said, it was four stories inside two, but also fully lit despite there being no heads or tails of a light source anywhere in the room. The only portal to the outside was a small window to my left, on the upper part of the wall, far too high for anybody to see out of. And more importantly, out of reach.

Whatever was going on, I found myself tiptoeing around the carousel like it was a slumbering viper. The other side revealed more board games, more stuffed animals. The place was a giant playroom. But no kids.

Lot of the stuff was things I’d wanted when I was younger, but never got, on account of Dad not wanting to spoil me.

The wall behind the carousel had a door, white with a gold knob, the sort you’d find in a resting home. I circled the carousel a few more times. For some reason, no matter how many times I went around, I couldn’t find the door I’d come in through. Just the gold knob one. So I entered.

The following room was a cramped, narrow corridor lined by glass cabinets. In these cabinets were faux-crystal plates and bowls, the sort my grandparents would keep around for guests. They glittered like diamonds in the light coming from nowhere. One in particular stood out: a jade green candy bowl resembling an upside down turtle shell. I could have sworn my parents had one just like that when I was a kid. When they’d gotten rid of it, I’d been too young to remember. I only recalled one day it had been there, and then it wasn’t. What were the odds the owner of this place would have the same kind?

Maybe I would ask them about it, whenever they showed up.

. . .

A kitchenette was next, again lit despite there being no lightbulb in sight. An old school cat clock, pendulum tail swinging, eyes darting right-left-right-left, had its’ hands fixed to 4:20.

Same time as my watch.

Same time I came in.

I found myself heading for the fridge, only to hesitate. Roughing it in the woods the past couple of days had left me ravenous, but I was trespassing on some stranger’s place. Then again, the owner had no shortage of goods. Surely they could spare something for a hungry little tramp.

The fridge was antique- smooth white with a silver handle- and the contents had a similar air of old things polished to a shine. Problem was, most of the offerings- pies custard strudel- were dessert fare, not the kind of stuff I needed. I wound up settling for plain Jell-O with cubes of spam and zucchini lodged in it. There was also a pitcher of water in the fridge, which I used to refill my thermos before venturing onward.

. . .

It must have been around the 12th room when I started feeling it. I remember because it was another narrow one, filled with pillows ranging from doll size to big as myself, patterned with little white dots on black. While gazing into the cotton abyss, a little ‘hook’ tugged in my head. From then on, when I spent an extended amount of time in a room, I’d start getting anxious until I went to the next in that impossibly long house.

Such is how I spent Lord knows how long in that place, going room to room, past walls of mounted insects, snow globes, plastic dinosaurs. Always there would be some trinket bringing up memories of something I could have sworn I saw as a kid.

Whenever I got hungry, a kitchenette would conveniently pop up, and whenever I needed to pee, there would be a bathroom waiting just one door down. The bathrooms would always have too many toilets or sinks or rubber ducks, scattered around like tumors growing from the tiled walls. Judging by the number of times I passed these rooms, I must have been in the house for about three days. And during this time I only slept once, in a big mahogany study that had a school of singing bass heads over the fireplace. I’d hoped to find some clue about the occupants in that room, but in place of family photos I only found mounted guns and stuffed animals.

But it had to end, sooner or later.

That was when I came to a room with no door on the other end.

After the several strange places I’d been to, I wasn’t sure what to expect, certainly not a small cube of a room, half occupied by a desk and chair, the other half by me. Over the desk was a corkboard, brochures pinned to it: some laminated in plastic, others fading around the edges, like so many paper butterflies. And among these brochures, I saw, at long last, my map. With steady fingers, I pulled off the tack holding it down.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

I jerked left to see a stairwell. One that had definitely not been there a few seconds ago. The upper part was obstructed by a wall. And something was descending.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

My heart raced. I don’t know why, but something about those footsteps chilled me to the core. And I certainly, beyond a shadow of a doubt, did not want to meet their owner.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

I snagged my map and ran back the way I came, fast as I could in my heavy pack.

Thump.Thump.Thump.

Whatever it was, it was gaining.

Thump.Thump.Thump.

I didn’t look back.

Thump.Thump.Thump.Thump.Thump.Thump.

I noticed the rooms were in different orders, but this didn’t surprise me.

Thump.Thump.Thum-

Before I knew what had happened I ran right into a room that was not a room at all, but a sickly, dark void. I was falling, falling…

. . .

I woke up, a pile of leaves in my mouth, back where I started, in the woods of rural Pennsylvania. Where the house should have been was nothing more than an empty clearing. Checked my pack: not a thing missing.

Had I Imagined it? That was likely, but my body felt… lighter, for lack of a better word. As if someone had taken a shackle off my soul. But the important thing was, I had my map.

And with it in hand, I marched toward civilization.

Fin

#My writing #12 stories

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apicturewithasmile · 6 years

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LOST rewatch (season 2):

[follow the entire rewatch-tag here]

episode 1 – Man of Science, Man of Faith:

It’s Desmond tiiiiiime!!!! Maaaaake your own kind of muuuusiiiiiic!!!

OH MY GOD Jack’s flashback hair is horrible.

Desmond’s accent alone is worth watching the show but honestly, his whole character is a total game changer. He’s the personified sci-fi element and I McFriggin love it!

episode 2 – Adrift:

Big feels for Sawyer here

Does this count as the first on-island flashback when we see John climbing down the hatch? Because we already saw what happened after that in the previous episode… I guess it’s only a mini flashback but still… it is…

Awwww it’s the Dharma sharky

With every Michael flashback I hate his ex even more.

How did everything that’s happened so far only happen in 44 days?!?! It feels like they gone through enough drama for a whole year.

“box man”

episode 3 – Orientation:

Katey Sagal <3

Kate discovering the real important shit – first the chocolate, now the guns

“You needed a father figure and I needed a kidney.” Fuck you Anthony Cooper.

“Why do you find it so hard to believe?” – “Why do you find it so easy?” – “IT’S NEVER BEEN EASY!!!” --- you tell him, John!!!

episode 4 – Everybody Hates Hugo:

I missed Rose!

….Hurley’s boss at the fast food restaurant… ain’t that the same guy who bullied John at the box company? Did I ever notice that before?

episode 5 – …And Found:

Jin’s hair growing longer is all I ever needed for my inner peace.

That Sun + John scene in her garden :’)

I forgot how good the score of that show is. Suck me right up with the feels!

episode 6 – Abandoned:

Oh nooo… that the episode where Shannon dies? Please don’t!!!

I can never understand what it is Ghost Walt is saying to Shannon

John holding the baby *external screaming*

I’ll forever be bitter that they killed Shannon off – all the missed potential for character development

episode 7 – The Other 48 Days:

It’s Nathan Ingram looking like Indiana Jones.

Is it ever explained what the Arrow Station was for?

It’s so annoying that the place Ana killed Goodwin isn’t the same place where Jin finds his corpse in the jungle.

episode 8 – Collision:

Kate winning against Jack at golf is what I’m here for.

I wish Ana Lucia and Sayid had gotten more scenes together after that

“What good would it be to kill you if we’re both already dead?”

That reunion scene of Rose & Bernard and Sun & Jin is soooooo kitschy, I love it

episode 9 – What Kate Did:

Petition for Daniel Daw Kim to be topless more often

I… didn’t remember Sawyer fever-mumbles to Jack that he loves Kate

Ah yes, it’s the black horsey episode

Shannon’s funeral :’( whyyyyyy?????

“Boy, when you say beginning you mean… beginning.”

I’m trying to figure out who cut out part of the Orientation video… was it Kelvin?

Kate’s dad, who’s a very high ranking soldier: “I don’t have murder in my heart.” Me: …..sure, Jan.

“Don’t mistake coincidence for fate.” Mr. Eko and John could have had sooo many intriguing conversations; it’s a pity they had to write him out.

episode 10 – The 23rd Psalm:

I don’t like the whole drug plot but that’s probably because that means more plot for Charlie… like… don’t get me wrong: I like the backstory, but not the new found drama with Charlie

Smokey in his whole glory. That scene is so breath taking, I love it.

episode 11 – The Hunting Party:

I had forgotten the whole “Michael locks John and Jack up in the armory”-bit

And Jack and Locke actually taking a button-shift together? That’s programmed trouble.

Fuck you Jack! Take Kate with you! You’ve known her for…. What? Over 50 days? You know she won’t stay behind. You’re really no good judge of character, are you?

funny how John is so curious about Sawyer’s name… kinds foreshadowing to the whole Anthony Cooper connection as if John already felt it somehow

Geronimo Jackson

episode 12 – Fire + Water:

I find it interesting that they chose a + symbol for the title instead of “and” or an ampersand.

Charlie’s parents’ accents are… bad.

“Now Locke’s your friend, eh?” oh shut the fuck up Charlie!!!

Hurley as Jesus on Charlie’s dream is foreshadowing

The difference between Charlie and John is that John is protective over Claire and Aaron whereas Charlie is possessive.

“[Kate’s] hot, [Jack’s] hot” – Ana Lucia, confirmed bisexual.

YAAAAS!!! Hit the bastard, John! You show him!!!!

episode 13 – The Long Con:

“You wanna break seven virgin Marys? Be my guest! But I’m superstitious.”

Yunjin Kim is the only person on earth that can make the colour orange look good to me

Seriously… I didn’t remember why exactly I dislike Charlie so much but season 2 reminds me episode by episode.

episode 14 – One Of Them:

IT’S HAPPENING! EVERYBODY STAY CALM!!!!

I’m so here for every scene between Sayid and Danielle

Amazing “arm waving through a tent” acting @Michael Emerson!!!

“My name is Henry Gale, I’m from Minnesota.” LIIIIIIAAAAAARRRR!!!

I think the first time I watched it I was so excited about Michael Emerson that I didn’t notice the guy who’s talking to Sayid in the next scene is Kelvin.

The first time John sees his future island husband… awwwww :’)

Funny how at first John doesn’t believe Ben’s act but later he’s like “tell me all the lies, I’ll believe you anything, my dear!”

“Why would you travel [in a hot air balloon]?” – “Because I was rich.” Has any line in the entire show ever been that real?

I have trouble believing that Jack is physically stronger than John.

The first time we see the hieroglyphs on the timer.

episode 15 – Maternity Leave:

Alex!!! My pretty little child!!!

Oh my sassy dear rat boy

And creepy Ethan is back.

Mr. Eko: *cuts his beard off* – Not Henry Gale: Okay, wtf?

“Are you the genius or are you the guy who’s feeling like he’s always living in the shadow of the genius?” Ben you little asshole!

episode 16 – The Whole Truth:

Daniel Dae Kim shirtless again – thanks for answering my prayers

Terry O’Quinn gets sexier the scruffier he is

Does Sun realise she’s pregnant this early?!?!?!

Okay John just totally took a glance at Jack’s dick after he was getting out of the shower.

“Jack and Locke are a little too busy worrying about Locke and Jack.”

Oh riiiight, Kate doesn’t know about Not Henry Gale

The fact that Ana Lucia and Sayid get along okayish fills my heart with so much joy but then I remember she’s gonna be dead in like… 2 episodes and I hate that.

“Men reject their prophets and slay them but they love their martyrs and honour those whom they have slain. So what’s the difference between a martyr and a prophet?”

episode 17 – Lockdown:

The first time Ben yells “Jaaawwwn!”

There’s also more and more Emerchesthair going on and I’m here for it!!!

“How about you put your mangos where your mouth is?”

Anthony Cooper you fucking asshole.

John just found the most inappropriate time to propose to someone

“You came back!” – “Did you think I was gonna leave you here?!”

episode 18 – Dave:

I wish Hurley’s story wasn’t focussing on his weight to much

John putting in a good word for Not Henry Gale is my vibe!

Never mind… bondage Ben is MY VIBE!!!

“God doesn’t know how long we’ve been here, John. He can’t see this island any better than the rest of the world can.” --- that’s one of the most underrated lines in the entire show I think.

episode 19 – S.O.S.:

Moooore chesthair action!!!

I love that Rose and Bernard just fairly recently met and haven’t been together for like 30 years already.

episode 20 – Two For The Road:

Ugh is that the Ana Lucia/Christian Shephard episode?? I’m always in for more daddy Shephard.

Strangulation really is Ben’s go to kill method, isn’t it?

“I was coming for you.” – you sure were, my guy. You sure were.

episode 21 - ? :

“the artist formerly known as Henry Gale”

Terry O’Quinn’s arms give me life

It’s the Pearl station

Oh riiiight there’s been cameras in the Swan station, totally forgot that

“every single second of my pathetic little life is as useless as that button” poor John

Sawyer comforting Kate… I’m here for it!

episode 22 – Three Minutes:

Oh Alex, my sweet angel

“we got caught in a net” – “why are you telling me this, Sawyer?” – “because you’re about the closet thing I got a friend on this island, Doctor.” I wish they had spent more time focussing on that broship rather than the love triangle

DESMOND’S BACK!!!!

episodes 23 and 24 – Live Together, Die Alone:

“we’re stuck in a bloody snow globe”

Charles fucking Widmore, my OTV – One True Villain

Aaah it’s the weird Hurley bird

John crying in the jungle breaks my heart (and fuck you Charlie for making fun of him)

“with enough money and determination you can find anyone”

Desmond realising John saved his life by hammering on that hatch door is one of the best moments in the whole show.

Not Henry Gale is back, my bebe, right there with the dramatic appearance on a boat

Desmond really big on competing against Sayid in the “who’s got the best island hair”-competition (Sayid still winning tho)

“I’m sorry for whatever happened that made you stop believing but it’s all real.”

“We’re the good guys, Michael!”

#lost show #lost #lost abc #Maddie rewatches LOST #yes #i did watch 8 episodes today #need to got to my boy Not Henry Gale quickly okay?!

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rilenerocks · 4 years

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The weather where I live has been hot and very dry. I keep my birdbath full and yesterday, I turned on the sprinkler as well. Lots of thirsty birds arrived within minutes to cool off and drink. This female cardinal has a nest with her partner somewhere in the tall shrubs behind her. Her color and markings are unusual so I always recognize her. I do a better job attending to my avian friends than I do for myself. I’m always sweaty and uncomfortable in the summer. Toward the end of April in many years past, I’d start complaining about the heat and Michael would say, “so long – see you in October.” I actually wasn’t quite that bad, but I’m not enamored of this annual muggy time. These days, though, I’m sending myself different messages. Right now, I’m hyper-aware of how lucky I am to be outside during these months, sticky and disgusting though I may be. My outdoor space liberates me from the claustrophobia being experienced by people who occupy small spaces in crowded cities. Icy winter will change how I manage virus time, when I’ll be on the inside, looking out. I’m consciously working on these messages to myself. Unconsciously, too. Some of them are clear and easily explainable. I ponder over the others.

What messages are poking out of my subconscious brain? I’ve been remembering lots of my dreams. I’m recording them so I won’t forget what’s being sorted through while I sleep. The Covid19 nightscape. Last night’s internal video made some sense to me. I dreamed that Michael and I were going to renew our marriage vows. It felt more like a first wedding for awhile because I was busily registering for gifts like dishes, silverware and serving trays. I was being really extravagant, selecting items made of gold and other fancy materials. I suddenly realized that was crazy as we already had everything we needed and I confessed that to Michael, who’d been assisting me from another room. Things moved from there to a conflict with some contractors who were working in my backyard. I’d been angry with them because they’d been doing a sloppy job. They were now being almost obsequious toward me, overly apologetic and fawning to please me. I realized that was because Michael was present, which felt like an admission of their intrinsic sexism toward me. I was relieved but also angry. I think some of this is connected to the basement cleaning project I did last week. I unearthed a set of china which belonged to either Michael’s grandmother or great grandmother. I’m not sure which. That kind of delicate fancy stuff didn’t fit with who we were or how we lived. I’d wrapped each individual piece in newspaper which was now falling apart and smelling strongly from dampness and mildew. The newspaper was dated 1983. Put away down there decades ago. I just couldn’t throw away that table service for twelve. I hauled it all upstairs and spent hours washing each piece and peeling away the debris of all those years. Now it’s in my dining room cabinet until I figure out what to do with it. Somehow those dishes translated into me wanting to restart my marriage and into thinking how much easier it is to have a partner sometimes than it is to be alone. Makes sense. Truthfully, I’d settle for a nice old-fashioned erotic dream.

That segues into another one of my dreams. Dream two consisted of me in an effort to relieve my frequent loneliness for physical contact, I found my way to a facility that catered to the common practices offered at a “house of ill repute.” What I was seeking however, was a person whose physique resembled Michael’s, and who would allow me to rest my head on his shoulder for just a few hours. A faceless person was found for with the right body type and for several nights, I got to go and rest, releasing the burdens of my day. Innocent though it was, I did this covertly as I knew this was not a socially acceptable thing. However, someone found out and leaked the story to the local newspaper, where it became quite the sensation as both Michael and I were public officials well-known in our community. My pathetic behavior led to a city-wide sympathetic response which wound up generating a consensus that what I really needed was a cat.

I was presented with an orange long-haired feline who looked nothing like the collie-type dogs I’ve been surrounded by my entire adult life. I got the message about being lonely but haven’t figured out the cat thing. No offense intended to those devoted to their kitties, but for me at this point in time, I mostly think of them as bird assassins.

Another dream’s message was me evidently being kind to myself. I’m still a member of a cancer support group. Over the past three years, I’ve gotten half-way through the story of what it was like to live through the stunning orphan cancer process that consumed the last five years of my life with Michael. Writing about the experience has been much harder than I anticipated as the feelings it evokes are still sharp and painful. Part of me has been afraid to lose touch with the immediacy of what that day-to-day emotional balancing act feels like. When I read what patients and their families write in this online group, I’m reminded of the fragility of life and the struggles being faced by so many people. I don’t want to become numb to that, not just because what I read informs my own story, but because I feel a solidarity with those enjoined in their often lonely struggles. I see painful statements. The other night my brain spewed out a particularly sad confession written by a desolate stranger. It appeared as if it was written on a billboard.

‘‘I’m the husband of a cervical cancer survivor. I thought I could handle all the stress and be her rock but I crumbled like aluminum foil. It ruined our relationship and we’re separated. Has anyone else’s relationship suffered from this? I was the only one who knew her survival rate and it was not good at all. That’s ultimately what made me have a nervous breakdown.“

When I saw that sign in my dream, I was empathetic to that poor man but at the same time, I was gratified to know that I’d hung in with Michael through everything and had no regrets to haunt me. An important message indeed.

I’ve got more mysterious and obtuse dreams that I’ve recorded immediately upon waking in the morning. Enough of them for now. On the lighter side, I recently received another message from neither my conscious nor my subconscious self, but rather from Michael, the gift who keeps on giving, via one of his most loved colleagues.

Although there was a significant age gap between them, Michael and Dan were just in sync about most things, personally and professionally. When the time came for Michael to hastily leave teaching to begin systemic cancer treatment, he gave Dan his very cool red retro class stool which was shaped like the palm of a hand. The photo above looks most like it. During Michael’s years of therapy, the two of them stayed in contact, going out for beers and lunches during the good times. After Michael died, Dan had an elaborate tattoo which honored him for his personal favorites along with his mentoring talent as an educator. Dan and I have stayed in touch as he became a trusted friend.

Our local school district established a history scholarship in Michael’s name after his retirement. He was so honored and was deeply hopeful that it would be awarded long after he was gone. He lived long enough to give the first award himself. He hoped to make the initial seed money self-sustaining and I promised him I would see to his wishes. This year was the fourth time it was awarded. I knew Michael had lots of ideas about how to keep it going but so far, I’ve been able to raise enough funds for quite awhile. Last week, Dan contacted me and told me something I didn’t know. Michael had shared the idea of having an auction as a way to raise funds for the scholarship. Dan had forgotten about it until recently, when packing up to move to a new home. Then he found a box of odds and ends Michael had left with him for the sale, along with the red stool. He asked me what I wanted to do about them. I told him to keep the stool as a token of Michael’s affection. I wanted to see everything else. Oh my. What a bunch of great laughs from my ever-quirky and kitschy guy.

Look at this bizarre stuff. A Freud action figure. How about Annie Oakley or Edgar Allen Poe? Let’s not forget a flatulence machine, to be polite, which still works. My nine year old grandson is willing to pay almost anything for that. There’s a blanket with all the landmarks of our community and some academic treatises on the Viet Nam war. I haven’t had the time to give every item the attention it deserves, but I’ll get there. For the moment, this medium was the message. My funny inventive husband didn’t raise any money from his idiosyncratic collection but he raised my spirits. A little nudge to remind me to remember the good and to find a little humor in the midst of everything. I’m going to stay a receiver- message input from many sources is welcome here.

Messages The weather where I live has been hot and very dry. I keep my birdbath full and yesterday, I turned on the sprinkler as well.

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