Storytelling on the carpet
“Spending my afternoons storytelling on the carpet with the flower hoarder…”
I’ve told you about the flower hoarder. Well, I found her lying on the floor of her living room yesterday. I went there as usual, I felt like telling a story to someone who was weird and wonderful — no offense to you darling — and I found her there on the carpet, in a white dress, heels still on, holding a solitary flower in her hand while frowning at the ceiling.
“Darling are you alright?”
Her eyes kept wondering through the lines of moulding on her ceiling.
“Why are you lying on the floor?”
We were quiet for a while. I watched the tulips start to bend with the heaviness of passing time and the old woman with deep set wrinkles passing through the hall with heavy steps.
“Tell me a story Madeliene.”
I wanted to say the same thing to her; I wanted to know why she had withdrawn from the village and how she ended up subsisting in this one room but she needed me to tell her a story and I knew I needed to keep the illusion alive for her that day. I gathered my dress and lied down beside her on the carpet. There was a chandelier above us, with roses resting there instead of candles, lighting its crystals with their blue hue.
“Did I tell you the story of Eduardo del Mar?”
“I don’t recall.”
“Oh darling, it’s a long story. You know, I think Eduardo would be into your whole look and life. Shall I bring him around sometime? He’s a good soul.”
“I want to hear the story Madeliene, only that for now.”
So I told her, about how Ishmael made me jump off the ship; how I became friends with pirates and Eduardo’s arrival to the village. I did however refrain from telling her about the villagers coming out with pitchforks for me because of her and Eduardo, she did not need to be reminded of herself in my stories.
Story credit: UK Tatler for the image.