SHE WAS PLAYING ‘LA MARSEILLAISE’ ON A PENNY WHISTLE

black widow

I met her but the once
stumbled across her
busking or begging
I never was quite sure which
sat cross-legged
upon the pavement
outside a charity shop
in the High Street
dressed in a tapestry of
sewn together off-cuts
of ‘this and that’
a hippie hat also
playing La Marseillaise
on the penny whistle
if the truth be told
it was that that first
caught my attention
stopped me in my tracks
we’re not used to that
sort of behaviour in
England’s suburbia…not used to it at all!
 
“I simply adore the perfect symmetry of autisms exact recollections…unique don’t you think?”
 
That my fuzzy brain could not afford a riposte a given
In the light of my silence I was not sure if the look on
her freckled face was quizzical, bemused or if she was
just having an old fashioned jolly good ponder
 
“You haven’t a clue what I’m talking about have you?”
 
“Frankly no but that does not mean I’m not interested in what you have to say,” my inadequate apology
 
“You know so little…anyway have you a cigarette, I’m gasping?”
 
I offered her a Marlboro Light which she took
but not before pointing out her preference was
a Disque Bleu yet needs must when the Devil drives
 
We got to chat, she still sat, me stood awkwardly
towering above her she professed that she could
see the Evening Star with eyes tight shut
dawn’s first light long before the witching hour
that the colour of death was snow white
 
“I rather defy the logic of this dimension don’t you think?  Whatever aren’t you going to throw a few pennies in my cup then?”
 
“Oh of course…how very rude of me…here, here’s ten bob.”
 
“Good, name me a tune, any tune and I’ll play it for you.”
 
“Can’t think of one off the top of my head,” which was true enough for she had me all of a muddle
 
“Never mind, there’s always another day in this tedious realm.”
 
I quizzed her as to where she came from yet the
best she could afford me was, “Not from these parts”
and I could have guessed that anyway!
 
Not wishing to outstay my kerbside welcome and
with a nod and a smile I went off about my solitary
frozen ‘meal for one’ business quite unaware
that she would follow me home
A knock at my door
 
“May I come in…you see I have no place to rest and you have the look about you of a decent sort?”
 
How could I refuse?
I had a ‘suffiency’ of eggs to produce a
couple of passable omelettes
she seemed to enjoy hers
more so I suspect that we shared with it a
bottle of frankly indifferent Beaujolais
 
Scoff over we both were feeling tired
The bed time conundrum!
As a gentleman I offered her the spare room
That she declined surprised me more than a little
 
“You’re guest room looks a little dingy, may I share your bed?”
 
Taken aback and part chuffed
part scared out of my wits
I acceded to her request
it was not everyday a girl
a stunning one, albeit an odd ball
expressed a desire to sleep with me
 
“Best you tell me your name young lady.”
 
“Eos”
 
“An unusual name…rings a bell”
 
After and later, I awoke in an instant
from the deepest deep slumber
felt needle sharp bites to my abdomen
startled me, excruciating pain and
muscle cramps, dewdrop sweating too
in a stupor I made for the mirror
two tiny fang marks red in colour
 
Anxiety preceded the diabolical echo
of Eos’ ear-piercing manic laughter
I turned about face, my desperation eyes
met hers, hers cold-blooded remote ones
then as memories prevailing and chronicled
stampeded through my death rattle mind
I remembered from God knows where
‘Eos, mother of Hesperus’
Hespurus, he who had lent his name
to the species of Black Widow spiders
He whose name translates from the Ancient Greek
as ‘SUPPER’
 
Her final words?
Certainly more tender than one might expect
 
“Sorry it’s just the way I am…can’t help it really…just hope I don’t get indigestion like I did with the last one”
 
And yes, the colour of death is snow white!

 

 

 

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35 thoughts on “SHE WAS PLAYING ‘LA MARSEILLAISE’ ON A PENNY WHISTLE

  1. I read this till the very last word. So compelling. And I love the ending particularly.

    PS Hope I won’t dream of this tonight. My imagination can be a bit cheeky.

    1. Most likely true…odd thing when listening to Mr Rebello and chums a message kept popping up on screen from a scantily clad Anna wishing to talk to me! She had the look of an arachnid about her also!

      1. I’m almost tempted to revisit to see if she’s still there…the missus says she might be a virus yet I had to remind her I have never known a gal by the name of Vi Rus!

  2. Hi Mike, your writing reminds me of the anecdotal style of Bukowski, I mean that in a good way. You blew me away with this one!

    1. Bloody Anna wants to talk to me again…is this a YouTube thing or has said Anna – whomsoever she may be – fallen head over heels for the older man…I mean she’s not like my Svetlana yet no one is like Svetlana. Weird though!

    1. STD’s young Marissa…how on earth does a gal like you, pure as the driven snow know anything about Standard Telepathic Dimensions…there is plainly more to you than meets the eye!

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