A book with blank pages?! A book with blank pages?
Shannon mumbled to herself in confusion. A thick layer of stubborn crust nestled in the corners of her eyes, she felt more like she had been in an coma, rather than a deep sleep.
Shannon's apartment room window looked out on a balcony walkway, snuggled tightly next to carnival fun park that usually involved an Irishman belting, “scream to go faster!”. She never participated.
Her room was like a Hollywood dressing room; clothes scattered, books face down and riddled with sticky post-it-notes, candles burning, chargers tangled beyond return, and mirrors that oozed moisturizer and surf wax.
Her once beautifully tucked and creased duvet cover, with fine tipped rose patterns that usually dance over her body as she rolls onto her sleepy left shoulder, now laid sprawled in a natural mess on the floor. Bits of rose pattern duvet lay under her bed, snuggled up to an old crumpled half priced juice box. The corner of the duvet, patterned with rose stems, laid tangled and jammed around her pink Dyson hair dryer in the bottom draw of her duchess; much the same as weeds poking through an old rickety fence. The rest of the duvet stood erect in a tee-pee like fashion on the floor, held up by an invisible force one can only imagine a ghost to quietly inhabit.
How can such a wild dream create such havoc? She thought to herself.
She was especially confused considering a lad she had been sleeping with, a smelly Tarzan looking Australian, laid perfectly still on his back, not a whisper from his nose, not a crimple on his astronaut themed duvet.
Strictly without the use of her abdominal muscles, Shannon walked her hands up to a hunched seating position. Her long blonde salt dried hair draped and gleamed in the warm Irish sun through her window. It felt good, but a subtle indecisive thought train to “make the most of the day” left her with a small dose of anxiety that lingered a weird dryness in her mouth, in fact, maybe that was from the bag of popcorn last night.
Like an old slinky toy, she slithered out of bed, slipped into a hoodie from her washing basket and rolled on to the lounge sofa with such little effort, it almost appeared elegant and choreographed.
With a fluster, She quickly opened the window of her 3rd story apartment. Crisp air, peppered with tinges of brewed coffee from the local shop filled her lungs to completion. Sun beamed into her glassy green eyes, reflecting the still open ocean. A gentle silence hummed across her view, feint chirps of bellbirds chasing the early worm, kissed and struck her eardrums like a Chinese Gong, or Tibetan Singing Bowl, take your pick - so pure. Two white moths took turns dancing and diving around each others lead, free of the winds constraints; it reminded her of her five hysterical aunties, drinking and laughing around a platter of French cheese at their luscious Belfast countryside golf course.
Thoughts became less disruptive, or less “sticky” and merely drifted past the forefront of her mind like clouds in an infinitely divine canvas of rich blue. Endless - Open for the mind to explore and create spontaneously. Conceptions of right and wrong cease. Space to be; is all that exists now.
The oceans coastal cliffs are flattering in size and random architecture. Dark unexploited caves, painted white with Raven poo around the entrance, lie whispering for exploration halfway up cliff faces. Clumps of human sized fronged flaxes dot the face like freckles from top to bottom with a carefree attitude, almost hoping for certain disaster. Courageous.
Car sized boulders, sharp like a landmine, rest on leg width ledges.
The base of the cliff is caressed so subtly with a premier white sandy strand of beach. It’s beauty introverted, asking for time to stop, steer and blend the intellectual eye with the romantic eye, to reveal its complex design. The sand, white as a dentists front teeth, squeaked and sunk under foot and feather - such fineness.
The beach is stabbed consistently by jagged reef, undisturbed. Calm. Strong willed - out-competing human interventions with large mermaid looking seaweed - which laps so graciously in and out of rock pools against the low tide.
Shannon peers down towards her black painted toe nails, her XL hoodie provides a perfect extra bit of sleeve to wipe her face and invigorate a flash of recall from her hectic dream. It again popped into her mind,
A book with blank pages? A book with blank pages?
With a tight pull of her hoodie string, she threw her legs up the back of the soft blue velvet sofa, her feet dangled with ease and swayed off the back like a playful child. Her head hung upside down, causing blood to crawl towards her eyes like ants for a honey stain. Her face turned peachy. Suddenly, a brisk onshore breeze tickled the small hairs on her chin. Shivers rattled down her back, enough to invite a full quiver and standing ovation of her fine body hairs; including the fine blonde ones surrounding her freshly pierced belly Button her friend Stacey did the night Before at the pub. BUURRRRPPP! Her faded chewing gum jumped from her mouth, hit the ceiling fan and stuck firmly on her head. “Oh for the love of…!” She scoffed.
Impatiently, she attempted to get all surgical on that dreaded gum. She picked at it apart with a knife and fork so delicately, you would have thought she was dining with the high priest. “Stretch here, pull there, twist this and… her fingers slipped and dove nails first into the mess!, “UGHHH!” She screamed. By now, the dribbly Australian huffed and puffed down the hallway, slapping his feet like a grumpy teenager and rubbing his eyes until they squeaked. Little was he aware of the 1 metre long stringy, goey piece of gum strategically placed at eye level that Shannon cunningly boobytrapped across the door frame. “Tehe” she whispered with her palms rubbing together.
The smelly man, only metres away from Shannon ’s cruel master plan, mistakenly placed his clammy hands in his pajama pockets to remove the remnants of tissue paper left in from the last wash. “What the f**k! Oh it’s in my eye ugh!” He screamed as he fell flat on his face, his hands remained firmly fixed in his pockets. Shannon burst out laughing. Uncontrollable laugh attack. The gum wrapped like a rubber band around the full circumference of his head. He eventually danced around the living room in despair, trying to pluck gum residue out of his eye lashes, and now, however unfortunate, from his belly button and beyond. “Fine come here then! Stay still!” Yelled a now remorseful Shannon. The smelly man pranced around like a chimpanzee, scoffing “ow, oo, nooo, youch!” unapologetically, they tangoed in aid of each other, both riddled with bits of gum in places of the human body you’d dare dream of. “Pull this! No wait twist it, No wait stop cut this piece of hair first please!” - it was fair to say, they were in a grade A clusterf**k. The smelly man jolted to his feet. clearly fed up with such drama for such peace in the day and stormed back to bed. Shannon laid still, breathing in for a count of 4, exhaling for a count of 6.
“Hang on.” Shannon spoke loudly
something strange occurred.
“What? What’s up?” Echoed the grumpy Tarzan man from down the hallway.
“Look.” Stalled Shannon .
What is that thing..?!
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She mumbled to herself as her head now throbbed with increased blood pressure. A small black dotted object, a spec, formed in the corner of her eye. It had a slight rotation to it she thought. The object appeared to grow in size and detail. Bigger, darker, faster in speed as it passed in out of baby clouds towards her. Shannon blinked rapidly to hopefully remove this black spot from her vision, it did not work. In a panic effort, she spun herself onto her knees on the carpet, both hands gripping her thighs to regain a steady flow of breath and consciousness as her brains blood shook hands with gravity. A big lump of gum, the size of two stretched golf balls, laid compressed under her thigh grip. Shannon ignored this.
James! JAMES! She yelled at her smelly Australian as the object now clearly was gunning straight for her window. The now stark naked man - connected with shades of think black hair from head to toe - merely popped his head out the door, a sharp pencil with severe chew marks and a piece of gum he missed from before stuck out of his ear. He pointed at his mouth which was yawing, and rolled back to bed.
Shannon rolled her eyes, her beautifully creamy whites flashing in her phones reflection. The panic resumed.
About a football pitch distance away, a strong gust blew the object off course. PHEW! She screamed. She watched on with complete intent, like a final at Wimbledon.
The mysterious object, now identifiable as some sort of large book,
... Ducked through the towns carnival wheel. STEP RIGHT UP!
… Knocked the sauce from a Childs hotdog. UGHHH! MY WHITE SHIRT!
… Deflected off a man’s muddy shovel. HEY!
… Flipped off a school trampoline. BOING BOING!
… Smacked into a passing seagull. SQUAK!
Tossed…, turned…, leaped!
BANG!
Shannon ’s jaw dropped. Her body frozen with shock.
“J, J, J, James.” She Stuttered.
A large photo album looking book, actually more like an ancient Chinese prophecy book, rest face down and wedged on the window railing. Its pages, a creamy thick texture with brown stained edges, flickered furiously in the now strong mid day sea breeze. Shannon noticed the book was slowly falling off, like a fresh drop of condensation on a window. She leaped forward. Her hand stretched out, fanning her finger tips as wide as possible. Only inches away! She was a spoons distance by now, the book was in her grasp, when suddenly.
The book fell.
It just fell,
Right in front of her sorry eyes. But how far? She draped her body in despair over the rail and let out a large roar of sadness across the once unspoiled view.
“Wait a minute, huh?”
Little did she know, a clump of sticky chewing gum, the size of two stretched golf balls, stuck firmly in the center of her palm. There was a strange weight to the gum. Shannon rotates hand towards her. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. stretched downwards was a 3 meter long, sticky, fluffy, discolored (you name it!) piece of gum, a flies worst nightmare! Attached to the spine of it was the book. Dangling in a gentle twirl, with each page open, flapping solemnly in the breeze.
She paused for a moment, deciphering her next moves with care.
“I need to pull this book up.. but
How?” She wandered to herself.
“Hey babe where’s the olive oil?!?” Screeched the Tarzan man. He stood grazing through the fridge with his left hand and scratching his balls through a beyond worn, de-elasticated set of rainbow underwear with his hip obnoxiously popped to one side, sort of how Kim would stand when getting a bollocking from Kath.
“It’s not in the bloody fridge you..”
Wait a minute!
Shannon had a brilliant idea.
“Oi oi it’s in the cupboard, would you throw it over here now please!” She yelled.
“Why? I’m about to cook some banging eggs on toast??!” He replied.
“JUST THROW IT HERE!” she barked with tired energy.
He did as he was told, leaping over with one hand still scratching furiously down his pants and the other tightly pressing a bottle of SuperValu’s finest olive oil in his other hand; imagine how a baton passing would take place in athletics.. this wouldn’t be far off.
The bottle was passed. The lid ripped off with Shannon's two front teeth.
Very gently, Shannon poured the oil over the window railing, right next to the long, sticky, fluffy, discoloured piece of gum that was stuck to her palm.
“What are you doing?” Yelled Tarzan man.
She didn’t reply. The railing glistened in the sunlight, the surface slick and friction less, even for the refined grip of a neighbouring fly, who slipped off.
The she took a step back, the gum held, and slid up and over the surface with ease. The book inched closer and closer.
Another step and another step. Each time clambering over coffee tables, shakti mats, left over dinner plates, until finally, with one last tug!
YOINK
She hauled the book up. It flew in slow motion. 2 sets of eyes watched like it was a cow sawing over the moon. With a backwards summersault and a skip across the kitchen bench, it landed perfectly on its back in the middle of the lounge floor. It’s size was bigger then expected, appearing more like it was once read by giants in mountain caves.
“Wow James check this out!” Shannon yelled.
“Are they leaves?”
“I’m pretty sure those are sticks too..?”
Hard pressed palm sized leaves, light brown in colour, decorated the front and back cover, its edges completely squashed, as if they has been flattened by a miniature stem roller. The leaves veins however traveled like staunched ridges, displaying such intricate and alien patterns, weaving in ways the human eye struggles to register. Bundles of skinned twigs, scattered with puffballs of springy green moss, made up the spine of the book. The twigs wrapped around one another with a sense of fairness. Each twig holding its neighbour together to form a harmonious structure - much similar to grape vines growing around a door frame.
There was a moment of pause between Shannon, James and the book. Then, like it had a mind of its own, the books pages flicked quickly and smoothly back to the first page. Laying tucked in the sleeve of the front cover was a feathered ink pen, tipped sweetly with a lick of the darkest ink.
The pair of them stood stunned. They had read about magic as children and always joked about it as adults, but this, this was surreal. Shannon looked at James. He turned, shaking. Fear danced between his shimmering dark brown eyes, not a blink was made. Before she spoke, he jumped to his feet, stormed down the doorway and slammed the door.
There Shannon was. Steering at the inked tipped pen. She could feel something was calling her spirit to grip that pen, but what? The she remembered.
A book with blank pages? A book with blank pages?
Slowly standing to her feet, eyes fixed on the ink tipped pen, Shannon felt a wave of emotions she had never experienced. The Fear in her heart melted away. Love and curiosity chased each others tail, filling her blood stream. She smiled a smile so large her brain throbbed with eagerness.
She rolled up the sleeve of her XL hoodie.
Gripped the inked pen from the pocket.
And she began to write.
The dream she dreamt night.