Voilet.

A short story...

Hello dear ones, I have deviated into the obscure this week, I hope you don’t mind…

The moment I laid eyes on Holly’s photo (below) I had a strong and unshakable feeling of deja-vu, it was the oddest moment, not quite clear in either place or time, as they tend to be, it haunted me for days.

When a few days later the photograph was used for a prompt over on

Caravan Writers Collective

the compulsion to write felt like the only way to clear my head of the vision, even though the vision remained unclear. The only rule was to use Ekphraisis.

Etymology; Ekphraisis from the Greek ἐκ ek and φράσις phrásis, 'out' and 'speak' respectively, and the verb ἐκφράζειν ekphrázein, 'to proclaim or call an inanimate object by name'.

I still have no idea exactly what it is in this image that drew me so forcefully into its depths and the fictitious story that evolved, so completely different to the story I had in mind to begin with, is far from my ‘normal’ so I hope you enjoy ‘Violet’.

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VIOLET.

How many thousands’a miles we seen Vi, you’s the one meant to be countin’…

Been called every name ‘maginable on the way through, you an’ me… and Belle didn’t help with all her gypsy jingles and jangles. ‘ain’t no place for Roma here, no place for filthy gypsy’s or thieves, move on…’ I can smile now but it weren’t so much fun at the time were it? Got ourselves int’a more’n a few scrapes we did but we just rolled on, rubber tyres bumping yer old iron chassis on dirt track roads, no destination, no map to get there even if we’d thought’a one. Which we didn’t. Our dream never did have a name, tho’ we knew what it looked like e’en if we never found it. Belle always said “those who have endured some misfortune will always be set apart but that it is just that misfortune which is their gift.” She said someone called Cormac McCarthy wrote those words and she believed in ‘em all her short life cos she never had nothin’ but misfortune anyways. Until the day she found me and you but she kinda added that as a thought that came after. Not sure I believed her but I sure liked that she said it.

Hundred thousand miles, two, maybe more? Thirty years movin’ on? Every one of them a forgotten memory now, all etched into your rusty parts an’ these days mine feel as old an’ rickety as yours an’ I ain’t got no motive left to fix y’all up again now Belle’s gone. Ain’t either you nor me gonna see the other side o’ those mountains there anyway’s. We never did find that place me an’ Belle dreamed’a did we? Just kept right on rollin’ til you rattled your old carcass to a halt here in these earth stars and moonlight that’s makin’ me think’a ghosts and shit, an’ you expectin’ me to know what to do next…

I been thinkin’ a’this day mighty often recently, knew darn well it would come, knew the way you complained. Our last journey was all your screeching, creaking bones and cranky body, you was already dreamin’ of rust becomin’ dust. An’ now we’re here I don’t remember no days at all before steppin’ into your metal frame, can’t even rightly say where I came from, only that I sure as eggs is eggs did come from somewhere an’I probl’y never should’a left. But for Belle I probl’y never would’a! She beguiled me tho’ with her sweet smellin’ smiles, all her frills and flowers and beads shining back at me in those black-velvet, whisky stained eyes she had. She saved us a good few times with those eyes a’ hers, sure as hell saved me, knew she had me a whole life time before I did. Said I was a one-timer, whatever that meant…

Lordy she were a cold hearted-bitch once that liquor bottle started emptying, just like you with all the damp running on the inside o’ you turnin’ to ice in winter, both a’ you did. Remember that? Darn it, I ain’t never gonna forget wrappin’ us in damp blankets no amount a’ logs would dry. Nor how your lacy curtains filled with spiders an’ webs and holes, n’everythin’ turned green wi’ mould. Every darn metal sheet a’ you had a hole n’ Belle kicked up such a mighty storm about that. I had no choice, fixed you up good n’ proper that time. Got me an old mig-welder n’ made you right as new again, painted you violet just like Belle asked, kept on doin’ til there was nothin’ left to weld to but rust, then some bugger swiped the mig anyways.

D’ you remember the ocean Vi? All blue up, an’ blue down an’ just a skinny line a’ bleached out empty sand to tell ‘em apart? Belle never wanted to leave that place did she, called it paradise but there weren’t no money to be found buildin’ castles in that there sand no matter how golden it was, an’ Belle always needed something, more whisky, more beads, more music to dance to… she loved to dance. Danced herself to death in the end, tho’ the amber fire played its part. Damn whisky…

You remember that day Vi? She drunk nigh on the whole bottle in an evenin’ an’ there weren’t nothin’ I could do to stop her, would’a tried harder had I known she were sick but Lordy she was happy as a pig in shit dancin’ round that fire, an’ when I think back she prob’ly knew it would happen an’ nothin’ I done would’a changed that. Belle always knew how the days was numbered, alway knew what was round the next bend… said she had visions I would’na understood, an’ she were right about that too.

So why d’ya stop here Vi? This ain’t no place for resting, looking’ up at them there dark mountains. This place won’t give us no peace with that wind howlin’’ down that there valley, you and me gonna rattle to bits, or sure as hell freeze to death. Ain’t you got just one more trip in you? Maybe take a last look at that bright blue ocean again, build one more castle in the sand? For Belle…

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