Sarette's Reve De Mort: And Other Stories Of Not Quite Magical Realism

Ordinarily I would use a traditional coffee pot. Yet for today I instead use an old Turkish ubrik. There is a large difference in taste. For the degree of bitterness simply had no comparison. Even the difference in milk to cream your coffee is different. It used to be you had to hand milk the cow yourself, or drink straight from the utter. But nowadays if you did people would think your mind is in the gutter. There would an infinite amount of things one could possibly draw a comparison to. Where I live, the difference in centuries changed even the footwear you wore; scarcely an ancestor would go by without wearing a pair of wooden clogs. Yet now that footwear has become cheap, it became relatively easy to purchase corporate foot coverings the cost no more than twenty five bucks.

I am typing on my computer. The old monitors I used to use were thick and clunky, yet now one would scarcely call them chunky. Even the operating system was different. Most of the friends I know use some sort of Linux distribution, but I was more of a late bloomer by reasons outside of my control. All the life worries that I had, could all be compressed down into a bowl. I am a short story writer, and I am a children's fiction writer. I am a short fiction writer, and a children's fiction fiction writer. Yet nowadays I can scarcely find a concept that would end up working for such a target audience. It used to be that I could conceptualize a character through simple sketches, and yet now as my work continues to become more personal, I've found it more difficult to come up with a story.

In other time line, the circumstances are different. Her name was Alicia. She would ride on horse back through the mountains. She would glide across the landscape of the grass. Alicia never feared the night time, yet in her time line unlike my own there was less of a reason to do so. For the only things to fear were shadows, demons, and darkness. Our own time line was different, in that these days you would find career Internet hackers and crackers that want to steel your credit card number. It was a simpler time, a simpler life. Alicia climbed off the horse back and walk through the door of her stone cottage, where her mother was cooking a deer in the fireplace. Her mother walked over to her from the fireplace, and then swept the floor.

'Would you be a deer, and go get water from the well?' said her mother.

'Why that would be swell.' Alicia said.

Alica stomped outside of the stone cottage, taking the bucket to fill with water. Unlike in our world, there were still plenty of lake. Simply due to the fact that the population was lower, and thus there was simply more room to build houses on river property. Unlike in our time, there were more natural wild life. Alicia would chase around the ducks, and then after this the chickens. One day her mother said that if she liked chasing ducks and chickens so much, then she should grab one for them eat for dinner that night. But tonight the meal was already being prepared. She arrived at the well, and dipped her feet in the water. And felt the cool was rather swell. She grabbed the bucket, and then climbed back on the horse back in order to go back home.

Usually that would be as far as I got when writing a children's story. As generally my life would be so busy I simply would have the time. Sure I could write poetry, that would not be any particular problem. But once you got into children's stories it would always end up being somewhat of a struggle. I work as the night shift for underground laptop dealer just slightly up Provence. Every night would in most circumstances be somewhat long hours, and the night would often often shower. From the time I would talk with the local cat, whose whiskers would be frustrated because he could not properly install the most current version of Linux. I would simply have no choice but to direct him to a friend of mine I knew that would help him, as that was not what I was in the business for.

The few times I would get to write would be late into the night, far past the time that most people would be up. I would get myself a cup of coffee, maybe hot chocolate. And then start the evening's session. Though this aspect of particular unhealthiness would always be at my digression.

Alicia woke at night and thought she heard a noise. She walked out of her room, and then checked on the boys. For her little brothers would sometimes make a night noise, and typically her parents would soon follow to come into the room. They would be playing with their little wooden bi-planes, and their mother would have a fit. Then they would be right off to bed. But Alicia couldn't get it out of her head that she thought she heard something else. She opened the door and ... the boys were sleeping. Nobody was peeping. Thus she quietly closed the door. She walked outside, and there she saw many of the animals walking toward a single point of light. Walking outside, it was found that as she walked further into the light it felt as if time would stop. Then it felt like there was an infinite level of distance between the single point of light and the stone cottage in the village.

She woke up, in my neighbor's house? No that can't be right, after all I had not talked to my neighbors in years. I had lost contact because all they would do is sit around on the couch and drink beer. Besides they never chose to let me feel their water bed. I would have sugary, oh that overly sugary birthday cake instead. Thus let us move the story in the direction of the park. Alicia wakes up the park, and many of the animals that she had met in various adventures would walk beyond the single point of light. And now the light was the glow of the neon lights. Alicia jumped, but unfamiliar with what in our time we would now classify as street fights. Street races, street dealers. Shady gun salesmen. Everything under the glow of the flickering L.E.D. lights.

It became apparent to Alicia that she had become lost, and was not sure where to go. She felt cold and felt uncomfortable in the snow, for her little green and brown dress was only the length of her knees. A local man one might compare to a cybernetic police officer, asked if she was lost and where he parents were. 'I have walked far sir, and I'm not sure which way is home.'

The officer dropped her off at the Orphanage.

Alicia was unsure how she would find a way home, and did not want to go outside now. It was far to cold, and the streets were dark and scary. It was filled with giant werewolf men who were large and hairy. She would have use her wits about her, and possibly steal a coat of fur. Yet would the coats fit just fight, or be to large tonight? Even the people closer to her age were about two feet taller. After trying on one of their coats, she found that her wrists could not reach the end of the sleeves.

I stop writing for a moment, and wondered what I let loose in the world. For I had never intended to bring a character to my time line. I wondered if something had happened to my computer. I needed to find out. But not now, I would leave you with this. I was the one who brought the 19th to the 22nd. I was the one who introduced knowledge to my characters mind that her time line was not yet ready for. It was something I couldn't ignore.

Alicia tried to remember how she got here, for perhaps that may how she could find a way home. Unsure how she would find a way home, and did not want to go outside now. It was far to cold, and the streets were dark and scary. It was filled with giant werewolf men who were large and hairy. She would have use her wits about her, and possibly steal a coat of fur. Yet would the coats fit just fight, or be to large tonight? Even the people closer to her age were about two feet taller. After trying on one of their coats, she found that her wrists could not reach the end of the sleeves.

She remembered the officer who took her to the orphanage.

She wondered whether he might be willing to take him home. But instead when she went to go look for him she could not find him.

It became apparent to Alicia that she had become lost yet again, not being sure where to go next other than back to the orphanage. She felt cold and felt uncomfortable in the snow, for her little green and brown dress was only the length of her knees. After all the days of wearing her clogs, her feet became like rose leaves. There was also a local boy one might compare to a cybernetic person, just like the officer she met before. 'Are you lost?' the boy said.

'Yes, and the officer asked the same thing.' Alicia said.

'Don't trust him, he's a secret police officer.' the boy said.

'What is that?'

'You're not from around here are you?'

'I came from a single point of light.'

'But seriously, where did you come from?'

'I see it, I see it. The light is over there.'

And then Alica walked into the light, waving goodbye to friend she only knew briefly. For even the smallest amount of friendship was worth even a short time.

She returned to the stone cottage from where she came from. Once it again it felt light there was an infinite level of distance between her and the light. She walked back onto the deck, and many of the animals that went with her were almost like as if they never left. She almost passed out, and then returned to her bed.

And then woke up and went to check on her brothers.

They were still playing with their wooden toy bi-planes. Alica came to appreciate the things she had in her possession, and did not envy the lost youth she met in the world of the future, where the officer were corrupt and the children spoke as men. She wanted to live within her own life, in constant forwardness. All over, all over again.

The next morning Alica met a new Neighbor, who tended the neighbors farm.

The boy looked just like the boy she met.

I once again used a traditional coffee pot, instead of the old Turkish ubrik. I come to also appreciate the more burnt taste of brewed coffee. There is an infinite amount of things one could possibly draw a comparison to in their life.

It's time to end the self-comparison.

And learn to love.