MAURELLE

maurelle

To the best of her knowledge Maurelle was French. At least in this dreary realm that was her chosen persona. The bilingual from birth or those unveiled for the sake of reasoning are more often than not puzzled, unsure of their pedigree. Besides, French after all is the language of love and that of those not sharing common tongue.

Seeing nothing extraordinary on the far side of blue skies and starry nights she had never been moved by the idea of kneeling. As such Maurelle found Sunday mornings to be mind-numbingly uninspiring. Wicked over pious by volition any day of any week suited her. Not so much a choice, more an elementary state of being.

In the company of the barking mad, looking up toward the barren heavens solved nothing. It never had. The impotence and self-indulgence of prayer airmailed to the nothingness irked her even more than bells and clappers on the stigmatized voiceless.

As a ‘lamp-less’ treasure hunting ‘objet de l’art’, she would bandage damaged sensibility, kiss better those parts of the belfry that circumstance had seen fit to leave unattended. Sometimes, just sometimes serendipity had the graciousness to put in an appearance and stand at her side. As ever, twists of fate favoured persistence over conviction.

Some of those who she had nourished thought her an angel. They told her as much. Such niceties, albethey accepted with due grace, ‘heavenly being’ would be her metaphor of first choice when all was said and done. Maurelle was a superlatively, ‘heavenly being’ in and out of costume.

In her own time, she favoured epaulettes over bare shoulders; faux camouflage over low cut glamour; delinquent combat boots over explicit stiletto heels. Clichéd fetish she found to be a most dismal thing. Rarely did she smile. The Maurelle’s of this world and those like her, the priceless one’s who the mirror on the ceiling cannot fail to worship, frown upon inane flattery, hardly ever smile. Why would they?

For the record, Maurelle, within her close circle of chosen ones and the occasional deserved saviour let it be known that her bed was a place for fathoming crossword puzzles, dozing and, as the fancy took, rental.

We lost her the night she ventured through the façade of reason into the arena of impulsivity seeking sensation without repercussion or consequence. There she would promenade unlit back alleyways, share darkest chocolate bars with omnipotent feathered tribesmen, hand fiery yet dim dragon’s flammable replicas of St George and mollycoddle flamboyant eccentric redeemers.

As day turned to dusk and dusk to darkness, a dressed to perhaps kill, perhaps not, Maurelle took to her bed, begged of impossible gremlins they allow her to rest in the arms of picture book Morpheus for eternity.

Leonard Cohen – Seems So Long Ago, Nancy

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32 thoughts on “MAURELLE

    1. My thanks, Mia. Maurelle is a bit part player who appears on a take I’m working on presently. I needed to write about her to get the feel of the character. Thus far, I have a soft spot for Maurelle.

  1. ‘In the company of the barking mad, looking up toward the barren heavens solved nothing. It never had.’ – This is very strong all on its own. Excellent line Mike.

    And I love this – ‘As a ‘lamp-less’ treasure hunting ‘objet de l’art’, she would bandage damaged sensibility, kiss better those parts of the belfry that circumstance had seen fit to leave unattended’

    ‘Clichéd fetish she found to be a most dismal thing.’ – This made me laugh, even though comedy is not the backdrop I know.

    Beautiful, deeply sad ending. It’s a great piece sir.

    – Esme Cloud.

    1. I’m liking Maurelle. She is but a bit part player in a thing I am working on presently. A chum of Eve. I wrote this short tale to get the feel of the character. I think she’ll stay alive and well come the story unfolding.

      1. Ooo, good! She’s of a slightly different taste than Eve, which should promise some fine visual flavors whenever they meet together in the lines.

  2. Huh, I see WP chewed my comment Mr S. Or maybe the net wis not connected despite saying it was as happens sometimes. I hope we are going to see more of Maurelle who obvi inhabits your fav place and is another wonderful creation. As for the Cohen? Well? Superb x

    1. You’ve just reminded me to have words with BT re the dreaded net. Like you, we’re paying these people a small fortune for a rubbish service. I’d written a half decent piece just the other day, loaded it (I presumed) to this ‘cloud’ only to discover that the cloud hadn’t, as guaranteed, saved it at all when the net died. It seems I acheived the impossible! Again! Cheers for the kind words. Hopefully, the atheist Maurelle will counter balance her ‘not sure what she believes’ chum. Time will tell.

      1. It is rubbish Mike. Mind you my desk is well away from the router in my eyrie so that is also the prob. But if it would just say it is NOT connected when it ain’t, cos it doesn’t. And I leave stuff and then see it is not there. What makes me laugh is the way they all fall over themselves saying come with us and you will have no probs where you live. Where we live has awful probs, with the river and the North sea proximity, One of oor bairns lives five mins away and their street is in a former dale. They have go outside often to make phone calls. But still these companies insist we have atip top service. I have to say maurelle sounds fascinating xxxxx

      2. I agree. It’s the marketing of speed and strength of signal that should be banned unless BT/TalkTalk/Virgin etc. etc. can actually do what they say. It sends this old fool insane. By the way, with a holiday coming up and my desire to write ‘funny stuff’ once again nagging at me…it’s been months and months since I could get into that particular zone…I shall be taking some time out from blogging. Rest assured I’ll catch up soon. I just have to stop writing ‘bleak/dark’ for awhile. ‘It’s doing my head in. Tis as if I’m in a loop of misery when it comes to writing presently.

      3. Listen you write wonderfully. I don’t see your work as bleak and dark. It’s amazing and in a realm beyond where the dark things live. I think this has been a horrible year in many ways for folks but hey you get back on your feet, the sun is shining, you will soon be in the zone for humour. Enjoy your break xxx

  3. Missed your ‘maurelles’, Mike. Sorry for not visiting, these were very difficult six months, and I am still struggling, but I don’t want to abandon this blog. Hope your Maurelle makes it to a novel.

    1. How lovely to hear from you. I’m truly sorry things have been difficult for you. Writing as I am at this moment represents my first WordPress words for likely 3 months. That it is to Inese that I am penning this note makes it all worhwhile. Of minor concern relative to what others go through, I damaged my left eye last summer in France when, through heatstroke (not ‘drink’ I stress), I collapsed head first onto a solid stone floor. The net result being my left eye has never really recovered. It is as if I have little black tadpoles swarming in my line of vision 24/7. It is for that reason I’ve taken some time away from my blog. My inabilty to focus had caused my mood to turn sour generally, and that wasn’t fair on my dear wife, Shirley. So I put the brakes on my writing efforts. Regardless, and most importantly, I sincerely hope you are on the mend and thank you so much for writing. We’ll speak again soon.

      1. Oh Mike, it sounds very serious. Wasn’t your retina detached? Did you get a thorough check up? You may need a follow up eye exam every year. I am surprised they didn’t think it was a detachment. If you get a blurry vision, immediately go to the ER.
        Write as much as it is enjoyable. We are not on payroll here and no deadlines have been set. Life is harsh enough without getting ourselves killed by over-blogging 🙂 I live one day at a time, and not every one of them is a happy day. Ah, you know yourself 🙂

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