The Unfinished Book :)

Heisann! Det er tirsdag, det er spådd innevær hele uka og livet er likevel en fin dings siden det er juni og jeg har mange ting jeg gleder meg til fremover. Dessuten endte jeg ved et bevisst uhell opp med å forskyve “bestille noen musikalcder og en bok”-planen min til i dag og nå venter jeg altså på to pakker i posten i løpet av neste uke (som ellers blir awesome pga. Tony Awards-greier, SYTYCD-kos og en mulig teaterplan om alt går som ønsket). Og så har jeg dilla på nettspill, De Blob 2 og å se tull og tøys på Youtube i stedet for å gjøre noe fornuftig, livet inneholder bøker, te og cherrytomater og Parade er ukas musikal på musikalgruppa mi og det gir meg en unnskyldning til å lytte massevis til denne sangen:

Det er “It’s hard to speak my heart” fra Parade og jeg elsker denne sangen, det er så sårt og nydelig og bare ååå <3

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Ellers leste jeg dette: https://www.buzzfeed.com/farrahpenn/19-things-that-are-100-true-when-youre-a-book-nerd?utm_term=.cnX6wXbym#.weR0k2E6d på Buzzfeed for ikke så lenge siden og ble inspirert av punkt 12 som var en sånn tanke om å være på dødens rand og være sånn “nei, jeg kan ikke dø, det er fortsatt ti sider igjen”. Basert på den ideen har jeg skrevet en liten historie om hvor frustrerende det ville vært å dø mens man leste på en superfin bok og så aldri få lest slutten og den historien tenkte jeg å dele her fordi jeg hadde det veldig gøy med å skrive den. Den er på engelsk, jeg utfordret meg selv med å la det være ukjent hva karakterene heter en god stund, en del av historien er en dialog og jeg er egentlig litt uvant med å skrive dialoger og jeg aner fortsatt ikke hvordan karakterene i denne novella ser ut og det pleier jeg ofte å vite for godt før jeg begynner å skrive en gang. Og teknisk sett har jeg nok skrevet mye bedre ting enn dette og jeg er ikke like fornøyd med alt, men jeg syns det i hovedsak ble temmelig fornøyelig så ja, håper det faller i smak. Ellers kommer neste innlegg om noen dager så da bables vi og god fornøyelse 🙂

 

The Unfinished Book

This had been a nice day until it took a turn for the much, much worse. It had been the type of day where the sun is in the sky and you walk through the world smiling and feeling just so free and wonderful. Days like that can at times be rare and yet sometimes, there they were, making you feel as if anything was possible in a way that mattered. She had been reading throughout the day, loving the book that filled her life with joy, loving every moment of it in fact until it stopped being available to her. This, it not being available to her anymore, probably had to do with the fact that she died and now was dead.

Because she was dead, she was sure of it. At least it seemed quite certain that this was the fact. Of course, one could never rule out the possibility that seeing one’s body lying on the ground a few meters ahead and being see-through could have other causes than death, but she decided to rule out that that possibility for the moment, focusing more on this new situation of being a dead girl walking literally. Because it was new, this was an experience she hadn?t had before and she felt like it should feel more shocking. Or sad for that matter. It was obvious to her that she wasn’t feeling what one was supposed to be feeling when one found her- or himself dead, instead she felt something else: Frustration. What annoyed her wasn’t the “being dead”-part, it wasn?t even the “having to walk into the light soon probably” (if that was something that really did happen) or having to miss out on life and the relationships she had to her friends and family. Instead it all had to do with the very reason that she was dead, the book she had been reading while trying to walk and read at the same time just because it worked out so well for Belle in Disney?s Beauty and the Beast. She had been reading, being in a magical and enchanting story, and not noticed the car as it came towards her before it was too late. And now she was dead and yet the book had survived intact with barely a scratch and it seemed to her that the normal reaction here would have been cursing it, blaming the whole thing on the book and feeling very interested in being compact just to kick it. And yet, she wasn?t angry with the book, she wasn?t even upset with it. Instead she just felt this growing frustration about not being able to finish it because now she could look forward to being a ghost for a perfectly adequate while before going to heaven hopefully (she figured that she?d probably been kind enough to get to heaven instead of hell, if there were places like heaven and hell waiting for people instead of just silence). And if she did get to heaven and heaven had a library (because a heaven had to have that she felt, a library was on earth her very definition of a heaven anyway), there was small chances of them having the book she?d been reading because it was quite new and the author was very much alive and oh it was laying there, just laying there. So close and yet so far away, a truth that saddened her a lot. She would never get to finish it, never get to know if the villain of the marvellous evil laugh would win in the end or if the brilliant princess with the peculiar collection of ashtrays in the shape of turtles would save the day. The last option did seem more likely, but she would never know for certain and this was really the thing that made her start to crying, teaching her also that ghosts could cry because she?d always wondered and never taken Moaning Myrtle as proof of crying-ability seeing as that was a fictional character. Anyway, she was dead and she was crying and that was how he found her, him being another ghost, but one with a little more experience seeing as he?d been dead for almost five hours now and had more than enough time to visit his home a few times trying with no such luck to comfort his parents when they got the phone call that told them that his story was a finished one and he was currently dead as a doornail, though I must admit the person giving the phone call used different wording.  

*

“Are you okay?” he asked. He smiled at her, trying to look kind and sympathetic. She didn’t answer, instead choosing to cry on with her hands in front of her face. He tried again and this time she heard him and he quickly hoped she hadn’t because of the look she gave him. It was a look of anger and frustration and he felt like running away pronto.

“I’m so-sorry,” he said, feeling like the words wouldn?t come to him. The girl’s expression softened.

“No, it’s okay, you’ve done nothing wrong. It’s just a really horrible day that really sucks,” she told him.

“Because of that whole being dead-thing?” he asked.

“Well, that sucks too,” she said and he was a bit shocked by the answer.

“Too? Is being dead a ‘that sucks too’ kind of thing? That’s really strange. You’re weird,” he said.

“I’m not weird!” she proclaimed, then she continued, “it’s just, well I was reading this book and it was brilliant. To brilliant in fact to put it down while crossing the street so yay, now I’m dead and I’ll never ever get to find out how it ends.”

“So that is not the very definition of weird right there?” he said after considering what she’d just told him.

She considered it for a minute or something like that.

“Okay, it’s a bit weird, but still you get it. There’s probably a lot of things you’ll never get to finish either. That does suck probably.”

“Oh shit, that’s right,” he said in agreement before adding, “I still consider it worse that my life is over already, I mean I’m just seventeen, that’s basically nothing.”

“Me too,” the girl said and added, “I’m Emmy by the way.”

“I’m Hector,” he said.

“Hector?” said the girl (or Emmy as we can call her now), “were your parents reaaally old fashion?”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with my name. Oh is that book ‘The perillous quest for the treasure of Doomsville’, I’ve read that. I can totally tell you how it ends,” Hector said with a smile.

“Don’t you dare!” Emmy exclaimed. Then she added, “let’s go somewhere. We’ll probably not be ghosts for that long hopefully and I want to spend that time doing something else than watching my dead body and that stupid book.”

“Okay, there is a few people that bullied me when I was younger, haunting them will be a nice revenge,” said Hector with a smile.

“Sounds great,” said Emmy and they left both her book and her dead body behind.

*

As they walked away Emmy felt a weird feeling that took her a moment to place before she understood what it was. It was happiness, for the first time as a ghost she felt happy. And of course, it wouldn’t last. Soon enough the real sadness about all she’d lost would break through, she knew that. Yet, now she was happy and she realized that she’d won something anyway, she?d found a friend and that was nice to know. And as she travelled around with Hector throughout the day, occasionally exclaiming “no, don?t say anything more, shut up” every time he tried to tell her anything about the unread pages of ‘The perillous quest for the treasure of Doomsville’, she knew that things would work out somehow even if her life differed from her unfinished book in a major way. It WAS a finished story.

5 kommentarer
    1. Jeg er litt glad for at det er meldt innevær denne uka. Lese, lese, lese! Og høre på masse fin musikk.
      Ha en fortsatt fin uke 🙂

    2. Jeg foretrekker å være mest inne uansett så det passer egentlig greit for meg og (selv om jeg fortsatt syns det er litt dumt at det er spådd gråvær hele uka siden litt “sitte på uteservering eller gå spaserturer”-vær hadde vært ønskelig. Og ja, jeg skal lese masse og lytte en hel del til fin musikk så det blir nok bra 🙂
      Ha en fortsatt fin uke selv!

    3. Det slår meg at du og jeg er ganske forskjellige når det gjelder det å skrive, for jeg hater å komme på navn til karakterer (unngår det om jeg kan), og jeg veit nesten aldri åssen de ser ut – det vil si, jeg har en viss formening ofte, men konkluderer stort sett alltid med at leseren egentlig ikke kommer til å bry seg med hvorvidt de har mørkt eller lyst hår, for eksempel. Dessuten er det å skrive dialoger definitivt blant de tinga jeg føler jeg er best på. Uansett er det jo veldig morsomt å utfordre seg sjøl noen ganger. Jeg har et sideprosjekt der jeg skriver noveller, og der prøver jeg ofte å nettopp gjøre ting som er uvant for meg (blant annet å skrive i preteritum, for de siste åra har jeg nesten utelukkende skrevet i presens og funnet ut at det funker veldig mye bedre for meg).
      Jeg føler ikke at jeg er god nok i engelsk til å kunne mene for mye fornuftig og konstruktivt om novella di, men jeg like første avsnitt, og tittelen på boka var awesome 🙂

    4. Selv er jeg veldig glad i å finne på navn til karakterer, men det var litt fint å fokusere mindre på det nå og jeg merker at jeg fokuserer litt for mye på utseende til karakterer når jeg skriver til tider når det egentlig som du sier er uvesentlig. Uansett er det gøy å utfordre seg selv og jeg tror jeg må prøve å skrive dialoger oftere for jeg føler ikke at jeg får det så godt til, men jeg hadde det veldig gøy med å prøve da jeg skrev denne historien. Fint at du likte første avsnittet og tittelen på boka og det går helt greit at du ikke får vært konstruktiv og fornuftig, var glad for tilbakemeldingen uansett 🙂

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