Mars Observer ♂
One Object - Part 12 & 13 (end?)
Chapter 12
It was another late night pouring over images; deleting, cataloging, organizing, choosing submissions - 'the workflow'. I hate the workflow. It was 3 am and I'd been fighting to stay awake for a while now. I was about to call it quits for the night, when I heard a soft melody drifting, somewhere in the background. From the flat next-door? And a faint yet pugnent smell of... what was that?... incense? massage oil and sweat?? Perfume?
Then... over my shoulder, the sound of a whisper I couldn't make out. I turned. "Sally! What... how did... what happened to you? Where were you..."
"You know", she said. It was her voice, but with an eerie, far away tone I'd never heard before. "I've been here" she continued, "right here".
"What... what do you mean? I... I don't understand" I stammered.
"Silly, silly, boy" she giggled. "I'm not real" she said. "You know that, right?"
"But... but I... we... our photos... our sessions..." my head began to spin.
"Il-eona!" she replied.
"What? I... "
"Il-eona... iliwa. Weikeu... weiku. Dangis-i gaya" I heard her say, her voice changing to a slightly higher pitch, and taking on a hypnotic, melodic twang"
"I don't und..." I said, as the music grew louder and louder - drowning out my voice... my thoughts. The music. An oddly familiar tune. Where had I heard it before??
Chapter 13
My head still spinning, I closed my eyes tightly. The music... the sounds and smells... so familiar. But how?
And where was I? I was in my flat, looking through shots from earlier in the week... wasn’t I?? I felt a hand on my upper arm... a gentle shake and “Weikeueob! Wake up!” in that same musical, hypnotic, woman’s voice. And in a short, curt but sweet broken English “time to go now.”
I opened my eyes and tried to focus them in the smokey, dimly lit room. There - my clothes, lying crumpled in the corner. A snuffed out candle, burnt low. A tattered, heavy, velvety-red curtain covering a small window, hazy wisps of light peaking around the edges to bathe the dusty air. A table cluttered with incense, an empty absinthe bottle, oils, small drinking glasses one of them stained with lip stick, some scattered powders and substances I didn’t recognize, a thin red veil covering jars of some mysterious, exotic substances. A ledge with a small lamp, a crystal vase and some ornaments and knickknacks... a few Halloween decorations scattered throughout. I looked up, into the beautifully large, dark eyes or the oriental-looking girl standing over me. “S... Sally?” I said, in my confusion. “Yes, me Sally” she said, showing her smile. “We have fun, but you... too much. Too much fun - no good. Too much no good. You understand? Only little fun.” she said, gesturing with her thumb and forefinger. “Umm... I...” was all I managed, grasping to make sense of something that, at least to me, made none at all. Remember, I told myself. Remember. I closed my eyes again trying to remember and relive, to make sense of the past days.
When I opened my eyes again I was someplace different. A bed. Crisp white sheets. Everything is so white. There’s something...in my arm. An I.V. A hospital. I’m in a hospital bed. There’s a voice “Doctor - come quick. He’s conscious”. A tall, thin man rushed into the room, dressed all in white. “I... where am I?” I ask. “You’re at College Hospital” he said. “Can you tell us what happened to you? Some passer-byes found you, in the streets, delirious, wearing clothes obviously not yours. They brought you here. Do you remember anything? Anything at all??”
Remember. “Sally” I said softly. “Sally” I whispered, as I closed my eyes... for the last time.
------------
First - apologies. I started this as a 365. But when I added the story, it began to write itself... including the ending. Thanks to those who took the time to view the images and read the text.
The story is a tribute to 2 great creative artists: Tim Burton and Edgar Allan Poe.
In the spirit of Halloween, and if you have time, I hope you’ll watch a Tim Burton movie and get lost in his magical world of crazy but relate-able characters. Or that you’ll read a story from the genius imagination of Poe, or read about his mysterious death (of which the ending of this series is based).
Edgar Allen Poe died this month (October 7th) in 1849. He was found delirious in the streets of Baltimore, taken to hospital, and never regained coherency (or perhaps only briefly) before his death. How he spent his last five days, how he came to be in such a state, why he wasn’t wearing his own clothes, his cryptic calling out for “Reynolds” during the night, and even the cause of his death, remains a mystery and source of much speculation and theory, even to this day.
******* Happy Halloween everyone! *********
P.S. - sorry for running behind (it’s been a busy time, and a challenge just to get the daily image posted). I will catch up viewing everyone photos and comments soon!
One Object - Part 12 & 13 (end?)
Chapter 12
It was another late night pouring over images; deleting, cataloging, organizing, choosing submissions - 'the workflow'. I hate the workflow. It was 3 am and I'd been fighting to stay awake for a while now. I was about to call it quits for the night, when I heard a soft melody drifting, somewhere in the background. From the flat next-door? And a faint yet pugnent smell of... what was that?... incense? massage oil and sweat?? Perfume?
Then... over my shoulder, the sound of a whisper I couldn't make out. I turned. "Sally! What... how did... what happened to you? Where were you..."
"You know", she said. It was her voice, but with an eerie, far away tone I'd never heard before. "I've been here" she continued, "right here".
"What... what do you mean? I... I don't understand" I stammered.
"Silly, silly, boy" she giggled. "I'm not real" she said. "You know that, right?"
"But... but I... we... our photos... our sessions..." my head began to spin.
"Il-eona!" she replied.
"What? I... "
"Il-eona... iliwa. Weikeu... weiku. Dangis-i gaya" I heard her say, her voice changing to a slightly higher pitch, and taking on a hypnotic, melodic twang"
"I don't und..." I said, as the music grew louder and louder - drowning out my voice... my thoughts. The music. An oddly familiar tune. Where had I heard it before??
Chapter 13
My head still spinning, I closed my eyes tightly. The music... the sounds and smells... so familiar. But how?
And where was I? I was in my flat, looking through shots from earlier in the week... wasn’t I?? I felt a hand on my upper arm... a gentle shake and “Weikeueob! Wake up!” in that same musical, hypnotic, woman’s voice. And in a short, curt but sweet broken English “time to go now.”
I opened my eyes and tried to focus them in the smokey, dimly lit room. There - my clothes, lying crumpled in the corner. A snuffed out candle, burnt low. A tattered, heavy, velvety-red curtain covering a small window, hazy wisps of light peaking around the edges to bathe the dusty air. A table cluttered with incense, an empty absinthe bottle, oils, small drinking glasses one of them stained with lip stick, some scattered powders and substances I didn’t recognize, a thin red veil covering jars of some mysterious, exotic substances. A ledge with a small lamp, a crystal vase and some ornaments and knickknacks... a few Halloween decorations scattered throughout. I looked up, into the beautifully large, dark eyes or the oriental-looking girl standing over me. “S... Sally?” I said, in my confusion. “Yes, me Sally” she said, showing her smile. “We have fun, but you... too much. Too much fun - no good. Too much no good. You understand? Only little fun.” she said, gesturing with her thumb and forefinger. “Umm... I...” was all I managed, grasping to make sense of something that, at least to me, made none at all. Remember, I told myself. Remember. I closed my eyes again trying to remember and relive, to make sense of the past days.
When I opened my eyes again I was someplace different. A bed. Crisp white sheets. Everything is so white. There’s something...in my arm. An I.V. A hospital. I’m in a hospital bed. There’s a voice “Doctor - come quick. He’s conscious”. A tall, thin man rushed into the room, dressed all in white. “I... where am I?” I ask. “You’re at College Hospital” he said. “Can you tell us what happened to you? Some passer-byes found you, in the streets, delirious, wearing clothes obviously not yours. They brought you here. Do you remember anything? Anything at all??”
Remember. “Sally” I said softly. “Sally” I whispered, as I closed my eyes... for the last time.
------------
First - apologies. I started this as a 365. But when I added the story, it began to write itself... including the ending. Thanks to those who took the time to view the images and read the text.
The story is a tribute to 2 great creative artists: Tim Burton and Edgar Allan Poe.
In the spirit of Halloween, and if you have time, I hope you’ll watch a Tim Burton movie and get lost in his magical world of crazy but relate-able characters. Or that you’ll read a story from the genius imagination of Poe, or read about his mysterious death (of which the ending of this series is based).
Edgar Allen Poe died this month (October 7th) in 1849. He was found delirious in the streets of Baltimore, taken to hospital, and never regained coherency (or perhaps only briefly) before his death. How he spent his last five days, how he came to be in such a state, why he wasn’t wearing his own clothes, his cryptic calling out for “Reynolds” during the night, and even the cause of his death, remains a mystery and source of much speculation and theory, even to this day.
******* Happy Halloween everyone! *********
P.S. - sorry for running behind (it’s been a busy time, and a challenge just to get the daily image posted). I will catch up viewing everyone photos and comments soon!