Mulled Vine

(A joint venture over coffee and smoothie by Daughter and Dad)

 “They don’t understand! They’ll never understand!” I said under my breath. I stormed into my room and sulked on my bed. I started to drift into a deep slumber. I dreamed I was on a cloud, floating above a magical land with waterfalls, lakes, forest and mountains. It was beautiful. All of a sudden I was entering a lightning storm. I woke up. It wasn’t a dream.

I began to worry because it couldn’t be real. I could not be floating on a cloud. Yet here I was; there was no denying it! The cloud floated on through the storm and I found my self surrounded by terrifying bolts of lighting and bone shaking rolls of thunder. Not long after, however, the storm passed and the sun shone gloriously over the magical landscape. Ahead of me a tall mountain loomed, on top of which sat a majestic castle. The cloud drew nearer and I knew I’d be able to get off on the ridge below the castle. I waited for the right moment and leapt. Unfortunately I misjudged the distance and fell many hundreds of feet to my death.

I’m afraid I left quite a mess on the magical landscape.

I wanted to say something to her, but I allowed the moment to pass. She hesitated, looking at me expectantly, almost willing my tongue to speak, but my fear was too great for the both of us. She smiled a sad smile and turned away.

The next time I saw her she was also smiling, still a little sadly I thought, but perhaps that was just wishful thinking, for this was her wedding day. I watched as she and her new husband walked down the aisle amidst much confetti and celebration, and I wondered what if; what if I had just for that moment allowed fear no place in my life?

I considered the flag, flapping in the wind, unfurling to display a red and yellow crest, some long forgotten coat of arms. The building below was a church, Gothic in style I think, what with flying buttresses and the like, but I’m such a Neanderthal with such things. I call it pretty or ugly and that is enough for me. Do you have to be able to give something a name or classification to appreciate it’s beauty? I don’t know. Perhaps in the knowing of the mind the beauty of the heart is made complete.

Now
is that dreamy vista of my mind
where sorrow and uncertainty
end,
and all is
peace.

The boss wondered why one of his most valued employees was absent
but had not phoned in sick one day. Needing to have an urgent
problem with one of the main computers resolved, he dialled the
employee’s home phone number and was greeted with a child’s whisper.
‘ Hello ?’

‘Is your daddy home?’ he asked.

‘ Yes ,’ whispered the small voice.
May I talk with him?’

The child whispered, ‘ No .’

Surprised and wanting to talk with an adult, the boss asked, ‘Is
your Mummy there?’ ‘ Yes ‘

‘May I talk with her?’ Again the small voice whispered, ‘ No ‘

Hoping there was somebody with whom he could leave a message, the
boss asked, ‘Is anybody else there?’

‘ Yes , ‘ whispered the child, ‘ a policeman . ‘

Wondering what! a cop would be doing at his employee’s home, the
boss asked, ‘May I s peak with the policeman?’

‘ No, he’s busy , ‘ whispered the child.

‘Busy doing what?’

‘ Talking to Daddy and Mummy and the Fireman , ‘ came the whispered answer.

Growing more worried as he heard a loud noise in the background
through the earpiece on the phone, the boss asked, ‘What is that noise?’

‘ A helicopter ‘ answered the whispering voice.

‘What is going on there?’ demanded the boss, now truly apprehensive.
Again, whispering, the child answered,

‘ The search team just landed a helicopter ‘

Alarmed, concerned and a little frustrated the boss asked, ‘What are
they searching for?’

Still whispering, the young voice replied with a muffled giggle…

‘ ME . ‘

She danced naked in the rain, whirling round and round with joyous abandon, her long ebony hair releasing a graceful shower of spray as she moved, her pale body a slender lithe lily in the wind. The sniper watched the magical scene through his sights, wondering why she had been chosen, but all he had was a face, time and place, and a brutal order. Yet here she was, beautiful, childlike in her ignorance, and he couldn’t do it. The rain stopped, and out came the sun, transforming the grey scene into a world of a million bedazzling diamonds wrapped in a bow of infinite colours. The sniper surveyed the scene then lowered his rifle – he knew what he had to do. He dialled the prearranged number and made a note of the place where his next and last victim would be.

I awoke to utter darkness and found myself in a musty confined space that smelled of damp earth. It seemed I had been buried alive, which was annoying because I had specifically made provision in my will for this by specifying that I was to be cremated. Obviously the bitch, in her eagerness to get rid of me had decided not to honour my wishes, and to add to that had not even been able to kill me properly.

Suddenly a vibration in my pocket: my mobile phone which after initial surprise at getting a signal six feet underground, I answered, “Hello?”
“Hi dear, it’s me, I was hoping you might still be alive; I won’t keep you long … er … where did you leave the car keys?”
Fortunately I had them in my breast pocket, a fact that provided some consolation as I hung up and the air began to run out.

I glanced over at the newspaper next to me and saw the page 3 girl of the day: a buxom blonde with raunchy, suggestive eyes, pursed lips and thrusted hips, her nudity bared for all to see. It saddened me that there was a market for this stuff, that men (and women I’m told) would want to see what was surely meant to be the beautiful privilege of a tender, faithful lover. It saddened me that even I, with all my high falutin ideals, felt just a tinge of sexual stirring at the sight of those pert nipples.

But mostly it saddened me that she was my daughter.