F.i.in.e Moods

Here's another random thought :

Could it be said that when parents

Are going through the empty-nest

Syndrome, they're in effect, mourning

For the loss of their child's dependence?

It's a bittersweet phase of life.

- short story... although the premise isn't too original, and I'm not sure if it'll go anywhere, this is to try to write differently... exploring, I guess... any pointers most welcome :) ... 

"The boy and the girl, are they ok?", he asked Pauline.  They'd come across the two children hiding in the shed when the little girl tripped over the drill's cord.  

"Yes, but they're clearly scared.  I can't get a peep out of them both.", she said frowning in concern.  Matt was deeply thinking it over, too, you could tell from the expression on his face. 

After a few moments, he inquired, "Shouldn't we be calling someone?  Seems to me that's the kind of thing you do if you find errant, seemingly afraid, children in your shed, no?"

At that moment, the little boy who couldn't have been more than eight years old, appeared in the doorway of their living room, consequently disrupting the conversation before Pauline could answer.  He hesitantly said, almost in a whisper, "Can you help us hide?  We mustn't be found.  Please?"

Something about the look in his eyes, and the way he said it, somehow made the hairs on the back of their necks unexpectedly prickle up.  Like an alarm bell imminently about to be triggered off, but without any clear justification.

Matt and Pauline averted their gaze to one another as the strange feeling took hold in the room.  And, in the softest of voices and smiles, Pauline approached the boy saying, "Can you tell us what's going on, sweetheart?  What's your name?  I'm Pauline, and this is Matt.  We want to make sure you're ok.  Can we call anyone for you?  Your parents? ..."

At the mention of calling their parents, there appeared a wave-like rippling along the whites of his eyes and across them, a red light almost like a flash that had an intensity which was very sharp.  Pauline recoiled as quickly as the flash came, and suddenly became fixed on the spot from being stupefied. 

Feeling fear tightening a grip on his throat, Matt bolted grabbing Pauline's arm to quickly drag them out of there.  His mind was racing, wondering if he was imagining it all, but he could reassure himself on that one, 'cause Pauline had seen it too. Look at them running now.

Matt looked back at the house to see if the children were there.  Both of them were standing on the porch, looking at them run away while giving a little wave.  He was thinking to himself, if red eyes and all that, whatever that was, are possible, the question would be, what else is there about these kids that's possible.  It wasn't a soothing reflection.

They ran about ten minutes to the next door neighbor who was the closest.  That would be Georges, a great fellow who's getting on with the years, as people say.  He was a much beloved neighbor and man of the community.  If there was ever anything the matter, you could always count on Georges' big heart to be there to help out in any way he could.  

Standing on his porch, Matt and Pauline rang Georges' doorbell, and stood there waiting while hoping he was home.  They weren't sure how what they were going through could be explained.  Georges might come to believe they'd finally lost their marbles.

Here's a random thought:

Could it be that when it comes

To people's likes in a person, 

A severe lack of self-confidence

Is as strong a put off

As when it's too abundant?

It seems that way.

This is beyond impolite,

It's beginning to feel cruel.

The consequent void

Is one no one can avoid.

The problem is mine, I guess.

That's the thing with feelings

Sometimes right

Sometimes wrong

Though intuition usually tells

With a degree of accuracy

Which is which, all the while,

Contradictions help along.

The problem is mine, I guess.

That's the thing with feelings

Sometimes right

Sometimes wrong

Repetition of occurence, also

A strong player in the equation.

Putting it all together, it quickly

Forms a vivid conclusion of fact.

The problem is mine, I guess.

That's the thing with feelings

Sometimes right

Sometimes wrong

Another problem is determining

If any of it has an inkling of merit.

Can the conclusion be trusted

Is the other step to figure out.

The problem is mine, I guess.

That's the thing with feelings

Sometimes right

Sometimes wrong

But so far, no other leads

Indicate that my direction is wrong.

Kind of hard when you're in the void,

Left dangling there in the dark.

Ah.  Well, it's a painful thing

To be reminded, in my place

Of peace, why my people fears might

Not be all that irrational, after all.

Oh. What am I on about?

I doubt whatever this mind of 

Mine is brewing and twirling

Around is anyone's interest.

Hm. But to have it confirmed

Again and again, on repeat?

It's a blow by blow,

Depiecing of my heart.

Eh. Well, that part is mine

In my usual ruthless ways

Of head space self-beatings.

Let's say it exacerbates things.

So.  As the soreness builds,

The feeling is to disappear,

Just listen to my fears.

They're on to something.

- altered my text Ramblings 500 (written in March this year), this is a second version... trying to write in a time when my brain won't hear any of it... so, not feeling too confident that it's not on the lame side, but voilà...

"Silence can have many meanings

Suppose it's up to me to do the figuring

However this social guessing thing is played

Can't imagine I'll ever master it, sorry to say"

She smiled and put her arms around him

A temporary respite from this world's whims

"My darling, come, lean your head on my breast

Let us sigh in synch, forget about all the rest

There's no need to figure out their meanings

And plunge yourself into endless imaginings"

So, he placed his head there as she bade him to do

Gently easing into the soothing of her love so true

- with rough translation... difficult to render French expressions with the same effect in another language, as is the case of all translations, of course... I tried :) ... just a ditty to pass the time...   

« Non, mais... il est en train de me niaiser ! » s'écria Lucie.  Elle était assise sur le divan et elle fouinait sur le cellulaire de son copain (comme si cela était normal).

"Oh no... he's stringing me along!" cried Lucie.  She was sitting on the sofa and snooping on her boyfriend's phone (as if that was normal).

Je lui demanda alors, ayant un doute savoir la raison de son exclamation (après tout, c'est de Stéphane qu'il s'agissait), « Qu'est-ce qu'il y a ? »

I asked her then, having an inkling that I knew the reason for her exclamation (after all, it was about Stéphane), "What's the matter?"

« Le tabarnak !  Il me trompe !  R'garde ça. »

Elle s'étira pour me montrer les photos qu'elle venait de trouver.

"The f**!  He's cheating on me!  Look at this."

She stretched over to show me the pictures she'd just found.

Je les regardais, ne sachant trop comment aborder la situation.  Il était plutôt clair que sa douce moitié avait des explications, non trop explicables, à fournir.

I was looking at them, not really knowing how to approach the situation.  It was quite evident that her better half had explanations, not too explainable, to give.

Je répliqua « Hm. Ouin... d'accord avec toi que ça paraît mal.  Qu'est-ce que tu vas faire ? », sachant trop bien qu'elle allait lui faire passer un mauvais quart d'heure, et plus.

I replied "Hm.  Yeah... I agree with you that it looks bad.  What are you going to do?", knowing too well that she would be making him go through extreme hell, and more.

« Check-moi b'en aller, y croira pas à ça, j'te jure ! »

Moi, je la croyais sans problème, je peux vous dire.

"Watch me go, he won't believe what hit him, I swear to you !"

Me, I had no trouble believing her, I can tell you.

Si les regards pouvaient tuer...

Je conseillerais à son homme de faire de l'air.

If looks could kill...

I'd advise her man to make himself disappear.

They say we'll come out of it unscathed,

To which I say, "You've got to be kidding."

Then I find myself constructing dreams

Of which would be liberating to dream.

Alas, to no avail become my attempts,

As I seek to tune them all out for sanity.

What a what is this what all about really?

While the state of things keeps declining.

It's the deepening of a different isolation,

Yet we find a way to adapt as we go along.

- when contradictions keep soaring... 

They attempt to reassure you,

Shower you with kind compliments,

Which is all very nice, for sure.

However, when you really take

The time to analyze words vs. actions,

It quickly becomes clear it's all empty.

What disappoints the most, I think,

Aside the lack of sincerity, is how they

Seemingly believe it won't be noticed.