Look Through

Original source material

Flash in the Pan: Badelaide


Away from the main street, cobbled and trimmed with medieval buildings still living.  Away from the street performers and tourists I ducked, the colour and noise becoming too much.

And there was the large wooden door old and maybe rotting a little and the cobbles were not so light or easy to walk on.  I heard piano music.  On opening the large door to the courtyard I found a child who was almost not Italian, playing a dull but beautifully pitched piano.  I was so moved, for his fingers were almost too small to stretch to each key – he played without error.

The man, who had seemed to be a drunk asked me ‘what do you want?’ and I thought of my writing which is becoming a stranger to me; ‘I wish to convey silence.’

‘Look for Badelaide.’  So I did and I found the old play in a musty leather volume with no title.

‘Act III, the last act.’

‘Page 38?’  He nodded.  The page was sparse, the dialogue was sparse.

–          Drip

–          What?

–          There is a drip

–          Shh

The silence came from the page to me but I was disappointed.  It was no good, I don’t write dialogue.  There was silence, silence sat in between the lines of speech, silence took the pauses in the words.  The man had slipped and I was calling to companions in dialect who stumbled to us full of words.  I left them.  I left Badelaide too.

And then I was naked, the sky overcast and standing on shingle.  She  and I agreed, and she advised me  to plunge into the water quickly so as to experience the cold in one shock, I was sure of my decision.  I was pulled out by the waves, I tried to put my face in the water.  It was at this point that I changed my mind and did not want to die after all.  I called and suggested we let the sea take as back to shore.  We did and were spat onto the beach where we lay waiting to awake.


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This entry was posted on July 6, 2012 by in Flash in The Pan, Uncategorized and tagged , .

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Copyright: Elizabeth Watkin

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