I just found this in a notebook. It might be some kind of prose poem or the beginning of a science fiction novel. Hard to say. It’s called “Two-Page Story” because the only constraint I set was that it had to fit in exactly two pages of the notebook. I think it’s from this February, which would account for both the springtime imagery and the feeling of lurking doom.
Two-page story
One: I woke up. Two: It was morning. Three: I was not at home.
Where I was I didn’t know, or I wasn’t sure, or I’d forgotten. I was alone, and the bed and the walls were strangers to me.
I dressed in strange clothes – strange to me, that is – and walked through the door. I was on a charming canal-side street. A passing old woman handed me a flower and smiled. “Good day, good day, miss,” she said in a sing-song voice with a strange accent.
All along the street and on the other side of the canal the shops were opening, people waking up, people going about their business and starting the day. I turned and strolled nonchalantly along the canal. I passed a little news stand: “Good day, good day, miss,” its proprietor said in the same sing-song tone. He looked just like the old woman – he had the same shock of snowy hair, the same kindly black eyes, the same wrinkled red cheeks like an old dried-out apple. He nodded and handed me a paper. “Oh, I don’t think I have any money,” I said, searching my pockets for any strange coins. “Never mind, never mind, miss,” he said, and with another nod I went my way down the street.
Of course I couldn’t read the newspaper. Its alphabet was as strange and unknown to me as everything else in this strange and unknown land. Still I studied its pages, nodding sagely from time to time, until I reached the end of the canal-side street.
Here where the canal entered a tunnel the city street turned into a lovely landscaped park. Groups of cheerful elderly people were strolling arm in arm, nodding and smiling at me. In the bandstand a group of horn players were setting up and warming up. And in the distance, on top of a hill, an enormous gibbet loomed over us all. It was then that I remembered everything.
This story was very amazing, It interested me alot, It also inspired me to jump into the publishing business. I have a story plan, Here it is…;
I hadent remembered a thing, What should i have done now? the town felt cold to me, It was so unordinary I didnt know what to do…
I looked arouned Hoping for a Path of happiness, but could i find it? No, All I found was a newspaper, which said, #Year 1990 which date felt fermillier to me but little did I know that untill it was too late…;
Minuates after there was a Wedding, which I think was hebrew And then The Polish army Settledand lock-and-loaded and got ready to invade Asberin.
And then it hit me, #The year 1990 was infact the invasion of poland
So we tried to get home but the guardes were never going to let us through the gates. Then What do we do? …
a really inpiring story