Oblivion, a short story by Jennifer Weigel
Valentine’s Day is coming, so we’re taking a brief break from Marker Drawings to give you Oblivion, a different kind of love story…
A well-dressed middle-aged man sits in the simple chair beside my bed. The room is plain and white and harbors a window shrouded in thick curtains that block the outdoors except for some shimmering fragments of light that creep in through the edges. There are various mechanical devices that emit rhythmic beeps, but otherwise these do not register as anything of note and melt into my surroundings. I lay back on an angled pillow, wrapped in a supple light green gown and draped in crisp and coarse linens. I stare towards the window and then back at my visitor.
The man wears a striped sky blue polo shirt and khakis, his grey-peppered tawny hair slightly tousled. He seems very put together on the surface and yet he looks as though he hasnāt slept in days. He carries himself as if there is some sort of unfulfilled need gnawing at his psyche. What cause could he have to be so fretful? What does he want?
He smiles at me. His blue eyes try to hide an unspeakable sadness, as if he harbors some secret that doesnāt warrant saying. The pervasive melancholy still glimmers through, accentuated by the darkness encircling those eyes, which appear both wet and dry at the same time. Has he been crying? Every once in a while I catch a glimpse of that weight and it shakes me to the core. I wish I could help him somehow. I can tell he wants something, but what?
So, there he is, smiling but still somber. He holds the picture aloft again. It is a photograph of a beautiful couple. A white lace dress. Roses. They stand outside in the sunset. They appear happy. He raises the photograph, eyes pleading with me to some end. He gently takes my hand and cups it in his own. He places the photograph within this nest and we held it together for a while.
Something about the couple is familiar; something about this man is familiar. The young couple in the photograph beams at the unseen camera. There is a striking resemblance between this man at my bedside and the man in the picture. Is that perhaps his son?
But it all seems far away, like a dream hinted upon in the periphery. I stare at the image for a bit longer until losing interest. As I grow tired, the plain white room yawns all around me. This time, this place, is all I know. The allure of the small hints of sunlight at the edges of the window is all that matters. I raise my head and turn towards those glimmers of light.
The man sighs. He tenderly brushes some wispy tendrils of hair from my face and kisses my forehead. I am not at all surprised nor frightened by the gesture. It is somehow familiar, and this is comforting to both of us. The man stands and readies himself to go. He paces slowly to the door, where another person stands waiting. The man turns towards me one last time.
āIāll return tomorrow, my love.ā The words fall limply from his lips. His eyes glisten, unable to contain the inescapable sadness. Something is still missing, but what? I smile at him gingerly as he turns away to address the nearby attendant. āPlease make sure she is well cared for. I will be back. In the meantime, if she remembersā¦ anything at allā¦ā his words quaver, āplease call me immediately.ā
About this story: I wrote this to consider the loss that comes with amnesia, both on behalf of the individual struggling with the condition and those who love them. My grandmother succumbed to dementia slowly over decades. I clearly remember a conversation we had near the end of her life when I visited her in the hospital continuing care unit. After thirty minutes conversing where she wanted me to meet her granddaughter before finally convincing her that I was said granddaughter, there was a sudden spark of recognition. But the joy that accompanied the revelation quickly gave way to sadness as she herself acknowledged, “I won’t remember that in five minutes.” Her words rang true.
Indecision, featured previously here on Haunted MTL, explores some similar themes. And feel free to check out more of Jennifer Weigelās work here on Haunted MTL or here on her website.
I donāt really know when or how I got to this shindig, but itās been the most awesome party ever.Ā Last thing I recall, I swerved to avoid hitting a deer on the highway, but now here I am.Ā And Iām running into people I havenāt seen in forever, including my best friend from junior high school, Davidā¦ Ā Weād fallen out of touch ever since my family moved halfway across the country from Providence, Rhode Island.Ā Hell, I heard he was really sick, like REALLY sick – cancer or somesuch, but he looks incredible. Glowing. So I guess the rumors were wrong.
Davidās a real hottie now, with his brooding dark eyes and brown hair that sort of swoops over his right eye.Ā And heās really into me, itās written all over his face.Ā Plus, we’re blissfully chill together. Itās not like we have to say much of anything, especially with my favorite band playing on the radio, Talking Heads piped into all of the rooms in unison.Ā When we first ran into each other, we were both joyfully surprised, and the awestruck silence never really wore off as we continue to drink one another and the party itself in.Ā Everything here is just so dreamy, itās unreal.
Just like heaven.
Thereās a little kitchen with an island and weāre toasting champagne and cutting up this huge sheet cake thatās part white, part, chocolate, part yellow.Ā I even got a corner piece of the white cake covered in icing roses, and all pink so they wonāt stain my tongue weird colors!Ā In fact, thereās no blue or black icing at all.Ā The message on the cake is a little weird, just a reminder You Are Loved, but it brings all the warm fuzzies all the same.Ā Itās almost too pretty to eat, but damn is it some good cake – perfectly spongy and not to dry.Ā Itās all just so sweet.
Truly heaven-ly.
āAre you enjoying yourself?ā David asks.
āYes.Ā Everything is so perfect, I never want to leave,ā I reply.Ā āThis is the best, most exciting party ever.ā
āYou donāt have to go anywhere,ā he replies. āWe can just hang out here and have fun forever.ā
We wander back out into the front room with our cake and champagne, which never seem to be depleted. I have a nice buzz from the fizzy alcohol, but am not feeling especially tipsy or out of it. Just warm ā I can feel it rising to my cheeks. We adjourn to the sofa, which has been left vacant as if waiting specifically for us.
Heaven sent.
The house itself reminds me a lot of my childhood home. Same avocado 1970s dĆ©cor. Same wood paneling. Same orange and brown stripey floral motif sofa, though this one isnāt near as scratchy as I remember that fabric being back in the day. And the cushions have just the right amount of fluff ā you donāt sink too far as you sit on them. Itās all just so warm and inviting and strikes all of the nostalgia chords in my heart for simpler times, when David and I would just hang out.
He smiles as he wraps his arm around me. Feeling safe, I lean my head on his shoulder as we watch the sun set over the far horizon from the bay window in the living room. The scene is a spectacular picturesque pink and purple show streaked with light and just the right number of wispy clouds to draw out the colors as the fading sunlight shimmers behind the silhouetted evergreen trees. It would make a wonderful painting. Absolutely breathtaking.
Straight out of heaven.
I glance over from the sunset to meet Davidās gaze. My eyes lose themselves in his, falling into a soft focus. He is just so dreamy. His skin is clearer than I remember. And his brown hair is still so perfectly flipped over his right eye in a cute coy way that doesnāt seem at all out of place. I admit I had a crush on him in junior high, but it was nothing like this. This is that fantasy on steroids. Beyond my wildest dreams. We lean towards one another and he whispers in my ear.
āMay I kiss you?ā he asks sweetly, the scent of champagne and cake wafting from his warm and inviting lips.
āPlease do,ā I sigh.
Our lips meet, slowly at first. Tenderly. The trepidation soon dissolves and the kiss becomes more intense, harder and then wet and sloppy, tongues exploring one another in the dark recesses of our joined mouths. I close my eyes and succumb to the momentā¦
I seem to have arrived at a really happening house party. Ā And there are people here I havenāt seen for years, including my best friend from junior high, David!Ā Weād fallen out of touch since the move and I heard he had cancer or the like, but I guess the rumors were wrongā¦
Here’s the song Heaven by The Talking Heads that inspired this creepy little story. If for some reason the YouTube doesn’t load in window, follow the link here.
And feel free to check out more of Jennifer Weigelās work here on Haunted MTL or here on her website.
Happy holidays! Where has this year gone??? Santa and I can’t believe it’s Christmas already, but I did manage to make you all a card again… Gotta keep with tradition or something. (Santa says I’m not thinking big enough…)
And to everyone celebrating other holidays and the solstice, may you have a blessed and wonderful season as well, I’m sorry I don’t do cards for that but I tend come from what I know, which appears to be inappropriate Christmas kitsch. Just like you’ve come to expect from me, I’m sure. Since that seems to make the rounds of all the holidays. š
Card reads Happy Holidays jingle bell jingle bell jingle bell rock!!! From You-Can-Jingle-My-Bell Santa and Jennifer Weigel here at HauntedMTL.
Image features a vintage doll (probably Merlin or Gandalf or the like) now dressed as Santa in a handmade Victorian style cloak with matching hat. He is holding his coat open to flash the viewer with a jingle bell ribbon hanging intentionally at his crotch.
This Santa was from a series of altered dolls I did back in the day, exploring different less appropriate takes on Jolly Old St. Nick.
As gifts, I present the other three…
Happy holidays and have a wonderful winter!
If you want to check out more of my altered dolls, I have posted several to Haunted MTL here:
So, now that it’s getting cold, here on Nightmarish Nature we’re going to talk about a different kind of terror – the starvation diet. It’s winter, and food is becoming ever scarcer, so many creatures will slow down to conserve energy. Let’s take this a step further to the sleep of the damned… But I’m not talking hibernation, or settling in for a sort of long winter nap version of seasonal affective disorder on steroids. No, I’m talking hummingbirds.
Sugar Rush
Hummingbirds are about the polar opposite of what you’d think of when you talk about inactivity. They’re more the picture-perfect speed demons. And yet, due to their crazy high metabolisms and constant need to refuel by consuming all the nectar and insects they can get their little beaks in or on, they have near death experiences on a regular basis. Even during the summer at night whenever the temperature falls too low. It’s like all their systems have to go offline for a bit just so they can survive.
Energy Suck
Essentially a hummingbird burns so much energy that he can die in less than eight hours of not eating. The little sugar daddy needs another fix just to keep going. This lifestyle is a far cry from the Energizer bunny. Essentially he has to enter a torpor state in sleep so he doesn’t succumb to his own starvation diet. Not every time, but when the temperature drops or food is scarce.
A hummingbird in torpor may, by all accounts, appear dead. He can be frozen in place, his tiny feet clasped rigidly around a branch as if rigor mortis has sunk in. He can be cold to the touch and unresponsive. He can face upwards, unmoving, breathing and heart rate slowed to near indiscernibility. He can even be hanging upside down, oblivious to the world. In fact, the hummer’s heart rate can reduce to almost one tenth of his waking state, and his temperature can drop by ~5o degrees Fahrenheit (~ 30 degrees Celsius).
Miracle Mavericks
Honestly, as shown in this article on Journey North, this ability to exercise such fine control over metabolic rate on a nightly cycle makes the hummingbirds more marvelous than terrifying, switching between cold- and warm-blooded. And they are very well-adapted to their eating regimens, especially given their diminutive size. But such is the cost of burning so much energy to keep going without much room to store fuel. Like I said, a strict starvation diet.
If youāve enjoyed this segment of Nightmarish Nature, feel free to check out some previous here:
-
Book Reviews4 days agoāTabās Terrible Third Eyeā by Isaac Thorne: A Haunting Tale of Childhood Trauma and Supernatural Horror
-
Movies n TV7 days ago
Heretic: ‘It’s a simple choice that should not be made simply: Belief or Disbelief?’
-
Book Reviews3 days agoThe Devil’s Glove: Before the Salem Witch Trials.
-
Movies n TV2 days ago
Dexter Original Sin, Miami Vice serves justice and alligators
