I spent today standing outside my door as usual, staring out at the lake by the mountains. I felt like some of the Jurple Mushrooms which grow at the end of the street, so I asked a stranger who was passing by to fetch them in return for three gold sovereigns. Worth every coin, I don’t know how I’d have got them on my own. I saw the stranger again later in the day, he was jumping up and down and spinning around, not sure why, but I didn’t get a chance to ask when he came up to me. I could hardly get a word in, he kept asking me about secrets and rumors and
Ann and Tedthe neighbor’s children. Funny thing is, I can’t really remember what his voice sounded like. Afterwards, he went into my house and I heard some strange noises, when he came out he was dragging his feet until he spewed candlesticks and clothing from some orifice. When I went to go to sleep, all my vases were smashed and my pet pig was dead.
I wish I could say I’ll miss Porky, but I’m finding it hard to remember what he looks like. Time seems different now than from my youth – the sun rises and sets, the two moons wax and wane – but I don’t think I’m aging, I don’t think my life is progressing anymore. Am I stuck in a rut? Perhaps I need to do something different with my life, that stranger seemed so happy, so alive.
I think I’ll stare at the lake tomorrow.
-Norman Pincus Charles