prUne

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  • in reply to: The Hosts of Mars #3702
    prUneprUne
    Participant

      Today, I met Huoxing, the bank teller. Funny, you would say that they have a bank teller on Mars. The irony is not lost on him apparently, his name means Mars in Chinese. His parents did have either some special foretelling powers, or a mean sense of humour.
      In both cases, he was quite efficient at setting my account up and doing some basic transfers.
      With the latest collapse of the economy on Earth, there are mostly only banks of China left everywhere. Still, there is only one on Mars, and Mars is the teller. What are the odds?

      in reply to: The Chronicles of the Flying Fish Inn #3669
      prUneprUne
      Participant

        Christmas has always been a strange tradition in our family.
        Maybe because first and foremost, Christmas is all about family. Besides the twins and their bond, sometimes I wonder what makes us a family at all.
        It doesn’t help that we can never get snow around this place, and dressing in red and white fluff is not going to make things suddenly magical.

        It was comical to see the exterminator come with a red bonnet, panting and all red himself, as if he were some genial Santa bringing gifts of death to our yonder’s rodents residents.
        He didn’t catch a rat, but got himself a fright. Thanks to Mater, when she erupted in the attic in her white hanuka honey cream face-lifter mask. I think that sneaky Finly got to her in the end.
        The mystery of the strange noises in the inn is not going soon, apparently.

        Bert and Aunt Idle got back from their trip in the evening. Apparently Bert had insisted to bring some sort of shrub to make a Christmas tree in the great hall (it’s not so great, but we call it that). Finly didn’t seem pleased too much with it. Raking leaves in summer, bringing pests inside… she didn’t have many kind things to say about it. So Mater sends her to cook a “festive dinner”, that’s what she said. I heard Finly mutter in her breath something about kiwi specials. I like kiwis. Hope she’ll make a pavlova… just, not with Mater’s face cream!

        It seems that giving small gestures of appreciation got the mood going. Aunt Idle is always very good at decorating with the oddest or simplest of things, like rolls of TP. Sometimes she would draw nice hieroglyphs in the layer of dust on the cabinets, it gives the furniture a special look. Mater always says it’s because she’s too lazy to do some cleaning consistently, but I think it’s because cleaning is not creative enough for her. Can’t believe I just said nice things about Aunt Idle. Christmas spirit must be contagious.

        Then, Devan came home with some pastries. It’s not often I see Devan these days, and usually he’s always brooding. I would too, if I had to come back home when I could just start my life away from there. Finly was all eyes on him all of a sudden. Seems nobody noticed, not even the twins, too busy being snarky while playing on their phones,… it looks like there is some strange game between these two, my brother and our Finly. I think Finly makes a lot of efforts to look younger with him, I can see when she fiddles with her hair. They would make good friends, and I’m sure Devan doesn’t mind the accent.

        As always, it’s not about how pretty the tree is, or how good the food is, or how big the gifts are… It’s more about being together, for better or for worse. And Dad, and Mum are always out of this almost nice picture, but somehow, it matters less today.

        There’s a good thing about that Christmas spirit. It gives you the weirdest ideas. To be nice, I asked Mater if we should invite the guests to our festive dinner, and probably lifted by the mood, she said yes, of course. When I went to the closed door to invite the guy, I thought a random act of kindnes is a perfect occasion to learn more about our mysterious resident stranger… Maybe that’s what the adults mean in church when they say you should always be kind to each other.

        in reply to: The Chronicles of the Flying Fish Inn #3592
        prUneprUne
        Participant

          I don’t know what possessed Mater, but I like the new version of her.
          She’s a true inspiration. The way she commandeers, how she pays attention to the little things. If she wasn’t so wrinkled, I’d want to become her.
          She doesn’t seem to need anyone in her life, maybe that’s why she’s so strong.

          I don’t know how this all happened, but we now seem to do well enough. We have one paying guest (he seems to pay on time too, I don’t know where he gets that kind of money around that place), and it seems we can afford some manservant. Well, that’s something Aunt Idle would call that nice lady, surely not Mater. She was very kind to her.
          Hope she doesn’t get funny ideas like she should become some sort of Mary Poppins or the like.

          The way Mater was sad after her piggy passed, I realized having a dog is a huge commitment. I told Battista I lied and I was sorry, but we couldn’t have the puppy. I knew she wouldn’t mind, she likes to keep dogs around.

          Instead, I thought I could start breeding guinea pigs; they don’t live too long. Everybody thought stealing the fish was just a prank, but I wanted to pawn it to kick-start my business. The sad truth is that it isn’t worth a dime.
          Luckily, Bert who noticed me, said he would help.
          I wonder why the only persons I can relate to are more than ten times my age… Sometimes I’m like an alien in my own family.

          in reply to: The Hosts of Mars #3590
          prUneprUne
          Participant

            Prune’s journal

            The quarantine wasn’t as long as expected, we’ll be on Mars tomorrow. The Indian guy didn’t explain much of what happened. Maybe it was just a drill.
            Anyhow, Hans has kept his promise, and the guinea pig is fine. Somehow, it seems to have grown stronger in space. Maybe the lesser gravity?
            Mater would have liked it.
            Speaking of Mater, I got that strange feeling she’s with me somehow. Funny, come to think of it, she was always the one talking about the spirit world. Was never really sure if she was well in her head when she finally opened to me about it (everything else showed that yes, she was nowhere near senility, even before death struck).
            If someone should chose to play poltergeist after all, who else than Mater. Way to go Ma!

            in reply to: The Chronicles of the Flying Fish Inn #3553
            prUneprUne
            Participant

              The others are all freaked out, but I’m sure Mater is fine.
              I bet it’s because they’re not used to thinking by themselves, but they will survive.

              I wonder where Mater is though. It’s true she’s not the unplanned escapade type. Has it something to do with the strange stranger, or maybe the debt collector, or her dead hamster?

              Adults are such riddles…

              in reply to: The Chronicles of the Flying Fish Inn #3535
              prUneprUne
              Participant

                I noticed when Mater left the house early and discreetly. I know all the sounds of the house, and even the light footsteps of my grandmother couldn’t avoid making the floor creak.

                I’m mildly curious, as it isn’t every day Mater leaves the house, besides for the Sundays’ mass. She always complained about her cracking joints, and plenty other pains. Must be why she liked to threaten everyone with inflicting some.

                She had looked genuinely sad when the furball had died, though. I was too, but my eyes are set on one of the new spaniel pups from a litter that Battista and Gerardo, the funny Italian couple with the pizzeria next door just had.

                Battista promised to keep one for me. I lied of course, told her that my aunt had agreed to it. By any rate, Aunt Idle wouldn’t remember giving her approval or disapproval, and would most probably fall gaga for the little puppy. So it would just be a little white lie.

                I was about to fall back asleep when I hear the door creak open. My first thought was that it was Mater who’d forgotten her keys, but the loud footsteps weren’t hers.

                My heartbeat raised a little while I jump out of bed full of hope.

                “Papa Fred!” I almost cried out while flying down the stairs, but then I stopped in mid sentence.
                The man in the entrance isn’t father.

                I would have cried for help, but Aunt Idle and my sisters have a very loud sleep, and I don’t want to look afraid. Father had taught me to stand my ground with wild animals.

                “Who are you?” I ask the dust covered man. He had a broad hat, and a thick bushy beard. His coat was covered with cracked mud and dust from the road.

                “Apologies for my intrusion young lady. Is that the Flying Fish Inn? Someone told me I could stay there for a while.”

                in reply to: The Chronicles of the Flying Fish Inn #3529
                prUneprUne
                Participant

                  I don’t like the sound of shouting, so I retreated in the silence of the billiard room.
                  It was still smelling of the tobacco that father was smoking when he spent hours working there, on the small desk next to the bookshelves.

                  I don’t know why I’m always the one who got kicked. Being the youngest isn’t fair. I never got to know my mother for as long as my stupid sisters. And now, father’s absences are stretching for longer and longer ; I dread that I soon won’t see him either… forever…

                  I curl into the old teal blue sofa eaten by mites, and rock myself silently.

                  I always wanted to escape my strange family, the inexorable fate of a meaningless life in a meaningless town. Yeah, I’m precocious, and I even studied maps to see how far I could get. Unlike so many movie stars wannabes wanting to live a life in the city, and who always ended up back were they came from, often sadder and disillusioned, I will take all the time I need to make sure I will succeed. Much of my plans stay in my head though. Will never write them, can’t trust it with my snooping sisters around.

                  For now, I will continue to play them all. I will continue to be the little behaving girl who asks for the cute puppy dog. And pray in silence for father to come back, wishing for him to tell me stranger stories from the beyond of the town.

                  in reply to: The Chronicles of the Flying Fish Inn #3524
                  prUneprUne
                  Participant

                    The sound of hurried footsteps drew me out of my homework.

                    “Mater! Mater!” the twins barged in the private boudoir of Mater, our family matriarch.
                    “Bloody hell, girls! Have your mother taught you nothing! Bloody knock before you enter!”
                    I could easily picture Mater adjusting her shiny white dentures with a push of the thumb, and looking at the two girls with a affable grin on her powdered peach-smooth face.
                    “Isn’t it much better? Now, what is it that requires my immediate attention girls?”
                    “There’s a strange man at the door…” Coriander said, breathing heavily.
                    “… he says he’s a debt collector and he’s looking for you Mater.” Clove completed the sentence.

                  Viewing 8 replies - 21 through 28 (of 28 total)