One Green Bottle

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Chapter 23

Which spot did I begin and forever whirling round and round like a whirlwind in the same spot. Where did I begin and where will I end? In the end there was the beginning and in the beginning there was the end. I will cry no more these are not the thoughts of a 7 year old they make me older than I am these thoughts but I love thinking thoughts they blessings in disguise as if the nectar of the world is in me. I am like a flower feasting on these thoughts as if they are endless and they will beget me something important.

Where else does a woman go but to her past? I had had no childhood and my youth was taken and now flopped into a chair with no place to go. Watching the blood, TV and doing the housework pottering about. I am cleaning windows. Now as if no longer myself as if somebody else as if that child has left me alone with this dreadful me this monster of indecency as if the flies on him has crept themselves on me. I identify with his loss his tragedy is that he has too much mine is that I never have had anything. When they marry there is inequality and spite one does not understand the other. Oh to see rich man parading as poverty struck that strikes dread to my soul. For the rich man thinks the poor man is at fault that he is poor. The rich man does not know that circumstances make one the thing one is. That it is not in someone’s hands all the time to be what she wants to be. There are unavoidable delays and circumvolutions and detours round and round and sometimes youth does not last beyond a day. I am free to roam unconsciously for he has found another prey. But he always came back to this one me. I had to lay my traps as well as he. Must not be too complaint or too aggressively insane. There must be a middle ground so that I am believable someone must believe me. There must be people out there who will believe this stranger this foreigner this person of no account. These are my thoughts these are the thoughts of a strange woman a mad woman a woman whom destiny has tossed most cruelly.

“Sea saw what I’m I? A mere nothing but a joke” A mere speck a dust of something like dust mites and then it is cleaned washed out. Crying game first there are kisses and then nothing. I glare oblivious into the future which is darker than night and there are no strangers but these shadows which follow my destiny. I am no one nothing takes me then? I am no one nothing makes me then? There is no man only I am the prey these are my people protect me? Too much to ask for there is no one to them but this cinders without cinders the world will ignite into nothing. I alone am TO blame. I alone I’m to blame for all this and this and these thoughts am sent to try me. I alone am to blame for everything.

“I apologise most sincerely but you don’t interest me. Go you evil woman this is the door these are not your people you belong to me.”

“What you actually feel something”?

“I think so. But you don’t realise you whore what you have done. What you have made me do?”

“Tell me what I have done to undo what I have done?” Emine said.

“You making me into a murderer”

“Who is the victim?”

“You’ll be surprised.”

“Don’t say?”

“Of course there will have to be a wick but I’ll cry with the best of them. I am very good at funerals.” He gloatingly explores.

“Whose funeral is it today?”

“Yours”

“Will you put yours sincerely or ever faithful with it?” Emine is wistful.

“I think there will be a requiem for the deeds you haven’t done.”

“Oh yes the deeds I haven’t done. The accomplishments I have wasted.”

“What right do you have to torture this thing that I have become because of you?” There is movement as he struggles with himself and his badness wins.

“And what have I become?” she asks.

“Nothing of course because you started as nothing and will end as such that is the order of things. But I had been so full of promise.”

“This is eastern promise or western?”

“Does it matter?”

“Not really in the end they are all the same.” Says Emine to the world where did my life go and my silk dress with my silk purse?

This is a depressive novel with all the characters unhappy and nothing but happenings which will disgust the public and they will cry. Is it not a shame that I am not even unhappy to be writing this tosh? I know I have no morals and morality is in decline. Well I’ve not had a happy life and I am taking my revenge on you reader and society because you have not given so I am not giving back I will not be sad because you too will be sad. I am not a pervert this is not a novel about perverts although it can be.

Do you think this novel will be x certificate? Off with my head my dears I am nothing but decent I remembered why I have started this novel but have forgotten again. Is this my revenge did I say that before I was rudely hypnotised? I can see my pockets of experience is awful is it lawful is it ok to be me? I can mimic any crisis, I can purge all the hell this is not perjury but I stand judged. My trail is thin I leave nothing but marks I can see but make no sound. Is this novel about seeing and not telling then?

Why start a novel when one can’t go to the depths as well as the heights? I am not for sale. I am for sale this house that I live in am my prison because being me I have not worked out how to get out. I live in hopes that a nice decent soul will unleash my potential and help me escape just like Elizabeth Barrette Browning. I leave no stone unturned to find help and all I find are promises of trial and jury. I make no bones about it I am on show this is my house but I don’t feel safe. I take an oath I’ll not be treated like a ruffian but I am off the streets I am the urchin in a novel without being an urchin. I am all of me I am nothing but I wrote all this should it mean something anything? Does my life have meaning this chasm this empty rock that I am? Are rocks empty then? Where do I fit in? What will happen to me tomorrow I have no idea but I will go and find tomorrow anyway.

“Nature did not intend me to be a victim. I am never going to become a victim.”

I go on a journey of that mind my mind blowing into spaces and disasters round the globe I become a seeker after the truth because I cannot move out of my own dilemma I become someone who is a spirit in the right place at the right time sharing out the secrets of the universe.

This is me here and there predicting the future doing the right word in the right time to prevent catastrophes round the globe there is nothing the matter with me at all I am doing this all the time I have got so used t doing this that is comes as naturally as breathing.

I can now predict the fortunes of most things called disasters and have the power to commune with the dead although the dead themselves tell me their secrets and I do not have a guide as such. The dead have to become the only guide sharing where and how they died.

That the thing is when something bad happens to someone the dead come and share it with me crying and I do have sympathy for them. I am enthralled by them but sentiment is not the option because they need actions and need to be remedied because they have limited time on this earth because then they get stuck in some sort of rot and they need to be freed.

So you see all this began because of my own unhappiness I do not do it as a job it would scare the spirits away if I did if I accept money it will contain lead and there would be nobody to make me whole or shine to them the light which would guide them towards me.

My suffering links me to them and they come asking for help?

Yes that is what links us both and the guide and their suffering I respond to. That the noise in the Universe is bad is that there is not enough reason that hidden facts come unstuck when one listens to what people are trying to hide even facts which they misread.

But myself I do not find this frightening anymore when they used to come through them walls I did but now they just whisper to me because they do not want to give me a heart attack having suffered one not recently.

So the bump in the night and all that is not on? They know better than to do that because they know what I respond to and to do something to the spirit world is to project an image they respond and respect to. Because it is a joke to be suffering all the time and nothing coming out of it but some bad smell which is awkward to comprehend. I did not know my powers until it began to eat me up I confused the real world with the spiritual and then there is the control because if there is no control from you the spirit world is like punk or something it can get the upper hand and make you into a mad man. That it is like tight rope walking it is like walking on air it is like flying it is like one is breathless when something bumps into you accidently showing you what to see.

It is all about seeing and being aware of what one is seeing. That is so simple but it is the most difficult thing in the whole world to do.

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