Here’s a short story I wrote about 2 years ago (well, 2 years and a bit) and published under a pen name. I did delete it because I had initially published it for reasons that had nothing to do with the story in itself. Now I’m not sure what to do about it, so I thought why not post it here on this blog?
Here’s the blurb:
In an alternate 21st century, Rob meets Dominique, a seemingly shy woman who happens to live in the villa he thought of as being a ruin for the major part of his life.
In an attempt to uncover fact from fiction, Rob struggles as he discovers that the facts don’t match with what he’s believed in so far.
Will he be able to find the true meaning of it all?
This work, both the cover artwork and the short story, are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.
Reality. Did it differ from person to person? Did everybody experience it the same way? What was reality? Was it just the sum of the things we could see, the experiences we made and the emotions and thoughts we had? I wondered about it as I lay on the sandy shore. From the forest behind me the astounding symphony of hundreds of birds reached my ear. The ocean in front of me sparkled greenish under the summer sun. The gentle sound of the waves soothed me in a way nothing else ever could; like a balm caressing my soul.
This part of the shore was fenced off by some rocks, the reason why I hadn’t noticed the woman before who walked along the beach. She held her shoes in one hand while the waves gently embraced her feet. Her brown locks were tied together in what seemed to me like a half bun, and her top caressed her body like a light summer breeze. Despite her skirt ending above her knees, her legs were so very long. And although she seemed to be used to walking a lot, they were somewhat delicate. She was beautiful. Naturally so. It ached me that most people probably wouldn’t want to acknowledge or simply didn’t recognise her beauty, for you could still see that she had a small belly, along with her trained legs it meant that her figure didn’t correspond to the current beauty ideal.
She stopped and turned towards the ocean. Had she seen me? Probably not – we were the only people here. It was no wonder, since the popular parts of the beach with all the hotels and bars were at the other side of town. Maybe it was the reason why she had come to this part? To bathe in the beauty of nature. Well, it was definitely the reason why I had come. For me, there was no better place to think of a new song than amidst nature itself. A smile stole itself onto my face as I remembered that most of the artists I’ve had the privilege to meet during the years would never dare to play outside without a license. Intrigued to find out her reasons, I decided to grab my violin case and go to her. My bare feet sank a little into the sand with each step I walked, allowing me to feel the warmth of the sand. When I had almost reached her, she turned around and looked at me. First, her glance rested on my face, then it moved from my long hair hanging loosely over my chest, further on over my sleeveless top to my long skirt. I expected to see some form of discontent on her face or hear her say something of the sort, because it was rare these days to see a man with long hair and even more scarce to see a man wearing a skirt, but her face remained expressionless at first. When her glance returned to my face she smiled at me. It was a sad smile.
Nevertheless I smiled back at her, then I asked: ‘Do you come to this place often? It’s the first time I see you here.’
Her smile intensified a little. ‘You got an interesting way of expressing yourself. Usually people would say do you come here often.’
‘I don’t like this excessive use of here. To me it sounds as if people were too lazy to name what they’re talking about.’ I was well aware that my wording might sound a bit rude to some, at the same time I did see no reason to hide what I was thinking. It showed in the way I was talking after all.
The woman turned half around, so that she could see both me and the ocean. ‘It’s such a beautiful place. I never thought such a place would exist when I moved in.’ She said no more, and the look in her very eyes drifted away, as if something was tormenting her. Her brown eyes which were so dark they were almost black. It cost me a lot of willpower not to drown in them.
‘Well, if you follow the beach further around town, you’ll come to the area most popular with tourists. I cannot recommend it.’
She giggled. I must’ve looked really silly at that moment.
‘I can imagine why. Could you show me around the beautiful part of the beach? And of the town as well? I’m not very skilled in making first contacts, that’s why I’m always happy when I meet somebody who’s willing to help me.’ Her shy smile couldn’t hide that she seemed to expect me to say no. How could I say no? I’ve always been someone who helped when help was needed. And she clearly was new and needed someone to get her through the first weeks.
‘You can count on me,’ I said. ‘I’m Rob.’
‘I’m Dominique. Nice to make your acquaintance.’ She shook my hand, more firmly than I had expected. ‘Which way do we have to walk to stay in this beautiful area?’ Despite her French name she didn’t have an accent.
‘This way.’ I started walking the way she’d come from. To be fair we could’ve walked a bit in the opposite direction, but I was curious about the place Dominique was living in. I hadn’t heard that somebody had moved into town lately and I didn’t know there was a house this far out of town – except for the old forsaken villa, which was nothing but a ruin. Nobody could live there. Dominique walked silently beside me. With wide eyes filled with wonder she took in everything nature had to offer.
As we walked we were accompanied by the gentle sound of the waves and the symphony of the birds. A few white clouds sailed on the light breeze that played in our hair. I lost myself in thoughts, wondering about who this woman was and where she had come from.
After what seemed to have been an eternity the temperature cooled down a little. There were more clouds in the sky now. Their white colour had turned into a grey which was so dark it threatened to smother the earth. Dominique stopped. She must’ve noticed the change in the weather as well.
‘Do you live far from here?’ she asked, turning to me.
‘I live on the edge of town, it’s not that far.’
‘You got an instrument with you, wear no shoes and have to return all the way we’ve come.’ She seemed to say it more to herself, as if she was considering something.
‘It’s OK, really. If I run I’ll still make it in time.’ I hoped my guess wasn’t wrong.
Dominique violently shook her head. ‘No. You’ve stayed with a complete stranger this whole time. Let me at least reciprocate your kindness by offering you a dry place until the weather has cleared up.’ She seemed much stronger than before now and her whole demeanour told me that she didn’t accept a no. The light breeze had turned into a cool wind, urging us to seek shelter.
I tried to hide my excitement with a sigh. At the same time I felt bad about not having had the courage to ask her directly. ‘Thank you for your kind offer. You’re living nearby, right?’
‘Yes, I live in a house on a small hill at the edge of the forest.’ Dominique pointed to a hill straight ahead of us before putting on her shoes. At first I could see only trees, but the longer I looked at it, the better I could see a house shaping itself out of the green and brown background. My heart stopped for a moment when I saw that it was indeed a villa.
‘Come, we shouldn’t lose any more time.’ She grabbed me by the arm and ran straight towards a small path that lead into the forest. While the air was still getting cooler and the scent of rain hang heavily in the air, we ran through the forest and up the hill. The chilly touch of the first huge raindrops falling down from the sky felt strange on my skin. A strong contrast was the still warm forest floor turning to mud beneath my bare feet. When we had reached the villa, it didn’t look like the ruin in which I had spent some time of my childhood days. Instead, the villa looked like a villa should: a two storey building with a veranda in the front. The whole façade was decorated with vibrant hues of green and brown, the windowsills were ornamented with leaves and the windows themselves shone despite the bad weather. With a last sprint Dominique and I reached the veranda. Just in time it seemed. The rain fell to its own sound of a million tiny drums. Dominique took off a thin black necklace with a key hanging on its end. With it she opened the door.
‘Come in,’ she said as she got out of her shoes. I followed her through a waiting room and into a small corridor which let us to what seemed to me to be a living room with a cosy fireplace and the obligatory sofa, armchair and coffee table. The house didn’t exactly seem new, you could see traces of living here and there – especially in the ashes in the fireplace. Still, it was aeons away from the ruin I had expected to see. The villa must’ve been rebuilt during the one time I’d been living abroad. I made a mental note to ask about it around town.
‘You seem to be surprised.’ Dominique seemed to have guessed some of my thoughts.
‘Well, when I was still a child this villa was a ruin. My friends and I used to play here sometimes.’
Dominique looked at me for a bit longer before she let her gaze stray through the room. Eventually her glance returned to me. ‘My grandpa bequeathed this villa to me. I only learned about it after his death and because I’ve never been here before, I didn’t know what to expect. All I had for reference were pictures. Pictures of a villa and of the ruins of it, but because these photographs had no dates written on their backs, I assumed that the house had been rebuilt. Last month I decided to come and have a look.’ She sat down on the sofa and laid her head on its back to look up at me. ‘This place is what I’ve been searching for for a long time, so I decided to move in.’
I sat down in the armchair beside her and put my violin case down between us. ‘You see, I haven’t been living in this town for my whole life, maybe this villa has been rebuilt at some time.’
I expected her to feel uncomfortable, but she didn’t.
‘Really? What made you return here?’ she asked instead.
‘The peace and the beauty of the place. And I missed my loved ones.’ Well, the second reason was no real one since most of my friends had moved away anyway and I was glad when I didn’t have to spend that much time with my family. Their view on life was far too different from mine. Yet I’ve made the experience that people simply expected to hear it. I felt uncomfortable as Dominique eyed me up; I didn’t want her to guess my thoughts again. ‘What were your reasons?’ I asked as a distraction, well-knowing that she had already mentioned it a few moments ago.
‘Well, it’s similar to yours. I’ve been searching for a quiet and beautiful place where I could live. You know, being a freelance translator gives me the freedom to work from home,’ she explained in more detail. ‘What about you?’
‘I’m a musician of sorts. Though my songs aren’t very well-known, they still sell well enough to pay my bills, every now and then at least. I still have to work part time.’ I tried to say it as matter-of-factly as possible, trying not to sound too snobbish.
Her eyes widened in surprise. ‘You earn that well?’
‘Yeah, I’m lucky.’ Unfortunately the only way to make a name for yourself, and the only way to have a somewhat steady income which paid your bills and more, was to always do most things, if not everything, according to the book. Dominique must have guessed from my appearance that my music was somewhat different, which is why her reaction was no surprise to me at all.
Outside a merciless storm threw thousands of poor raindrops against the house; lightning split the sky every now and then and thunder shook the earth. A thunder so deep it crept into my bones. Dominique must’ve felt it as well, for she shook herself. The darkness in her eyes intensified once more as she seemed to remember some distant past.
After a short while she returned to normal, and although she tried to act as if nothing had happened, she still appeared to be somewhat tense. ‘Ah, I’m sorry. You’d like to drink anything?’
‘A cup of coffee would be nice.’ Although it had been rather warm today, I needed something to distract me from the storm. The last time I had experienced such an extreme one was already some time ago.
Dominique got up but stopped in front of the fireplace, half turning to me. ‘Could you set up the fire while I’m preparing our drinks? It’s getting a bit chilly…’
‘Leave it to me,’ I said and got up. Dominique smiled in gratitude and hurried back into the corridor as I went to the hearth. I grabbed a few of the logs that were neatly placed beside it and set up the fire. As it crackled into life, it somewhat eased the tense atmosphere the storm had created.
After a while Dominique returned. The wonderful scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted towards me as she set the mug down on the coffee table in front of me and put down another in front of herself. Though the liquid was dark, it more seemed like tea to me but without the tale-telling scent of black, green or herbal tea. She breathed in deeply, almost as if she couldn’t yet enjoy the comfort the fire gave.
‘How come your songs aren’t well-known if you can really sort of live from your music?’ There was a curious sparkle in her dark brown eyes and although she sounded a bit confused, she indeed seemed to have heard some inside stories or at least guessed something about the music business. I was fortunate enough to be able to easily tell when someone was stupid. Dominique definitely wasn’t.
‘Maybe you’ve heard that the rights to both major and minor keys lie in the hands of a French company called “La Triade”, which has been founded in the late 17th century, originally to help spread the beauty of the major and minor keys across the world; at least that’s how they put it. It’s the reason why you have to pay a license fee each time you use one of these scales, no matter whether it’s about recording or playing your own or somebody else’s music or simply practising. The amount of what you got to pay depends on how you use these scales. Maybe you’ve heard that most music these days is composed with chords. As they’re still based on the very scales “La Triade” offers, you have to pay this license fee, whether you want to or not. If you don’t you’re in trouble. The same goes for playing outside without a license from “La Triade” and the city you live in.
‘If you want it broken down in a few sentences, you could say that you always got to pay a license fee, no matter how you compose, or what style of music you’re active in, and even if you’re just practising alone at home with no one listening, it makes no difference. There’s also the thing that minor scales are always more expensive than major ones.’ That didn’t even scratch the surface of how difficult things were, with the art of publishing my music not taken into account yet.
‘Really? There’s a difference in the pricing? And you have to pay this fee even if you’re just practising?’ Dominique asked, obviously confused.
‘Unfortunately yes, but … I think it’s one of the reasons why most of the music of the last couple of centuries is written in major scales or chords. “Modern” music is no difference; and it’s sort of expected, although I think most people aren’t even aware of it. They simply favour music written in major scales because they’re used to hearing it all the time. Of course you shouldn’t forget that, especially in the time of classical composers, mostly Requiems and Death Marches were written in minor scales. These are deeply associated with death, even today, yet you can find musicians who are willing to break out of old habits and write fast, happy pieces in minor scales.’ I could’ve switched between scales and chords as it doesn’t really make a difference in today’s world, with the little exception that most musicians out there will tell you they compose with chords. But because I didn’t want to confuse Dominique, as she didn’t let on whether she was familiar with the difference between the two terms, I found it easier for her to stick with scales.
‘Do you belong to these musicians who write such music?’ Dominique leaned a little forwards, and her whole demeanour gave me reason to assume she was honestly interested.
‘Well, I try my best.’ Against my will I felt a smile steeling itself onto my cheeks.
An amused one appeared on her lips. Although it didn’t reach her eyes, it seemed real enough to me. ‘I should’ve known. Your whole appearance doesn’t fit in.’ She shook her head.
I was unsure as to how to interpret what she just said. Should I ask her how she meant it? I decided to leave it be for the moment.
Dominique wanted to say something, but a roaring thunder cut her off. She shrieked in surprise. The tremendous sound shook every cell of my body and sent shivers down my spine. I grasped my mug with both hands and sipped from the coffee. As its warmth ran through every inch of my body, it soothed me in a way only a blanket could have done on a night such as this.
Dominique, too, clutched her mug. Obviously her beverage couldn’t do the same for her. She stared into the fire, as if its gentle crackling had put a spell on her, making her oblivious to the rest of the world.
The rain being tossed against the windows was like a series of waves, waves of sound that sang me to sleep.
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Marianne Walker 