sounds of a soft treasure from Albany, NY
a broom in a room

this is something that I recently wrote::::

He sat silently in the woods analyzing the events that had happened to him. It was a  timeless tale he thought, one that seemed to remain with him for the few days that followed. Although he was in the woods to find a mental haven and focus on his peace of mind and meditation, the man’s thoughts were in orbit around the female he had mingled with earlier that week. Time, time and time again he replayed the night’s events in his mind looking for lights of logic and remnants of reason - sifting through the dirt to find shiny objects of the night to hold and cherish within himself, but nothing more.


He had initially been drawn to her solely on his interest in her name, South. After hearing stories from acquaintances about her unpredictable behavior he quickly developed an urge to stare directly into and experience her for himself. To most people South was a bizarre female who would remain silent during social gatherings and refuse to invite conversation into her life even if it was standing out in the rain on her stoop - but to the man she was of much interest. 

With little hesitation one evening the man took three gulps from his bottle of freshly bought gin and threw on his jacket to find, converse with and figure out this marvelous woman. Thus, the seeds of the earliest events which would plant themselves in his brain appeared in his fertile head.

They were alone in the middle of the road after a well played evening. He had courted her well and she led him to the large room in her house. After a series of obvious clues the couple started to kiss and laid down on her large antique sofa in the middle of the room. 

“What strange conversation South will bring up” the man thought to himself as they spoke in her cobweb farm attic.

“But don’t you realize” South asked “that I do not recognize things as real or fake? There isn’t any difference in my mind really. I let go to life’s flow and become free to the currents, whether people think of my currents as real or imaginary!”

The man was very confused at her words but he resonated with the sound of her voice and remained silent allowing her to continue.

South continued, “I have traveled the world and built myself many times over. I guess there is no reason for what I have become and I do like it that way. I assume I just want to feel free, I brush the past away.” She fell quiet.

Up until this point the man and South had not spoken too much let alone conversing on such esoteric subjects like this one. As the two had been mingling on the sofa South rose to her feet and invited the man to follow her, which he did without hesitation.

“Let us go to my room” South said softly. 

South creaked over to what the man had thought was a closet and opened it up revealing a dark staircase which ascended towards a dimly lit room.

“I thought this was the attic” the man proclaimed to South as she started up the stairs. South walked slowly up the small and narrow steps.

“Well it is not” she breathed without turning around. 

Together they ascended the staircase while South’s hair lightly brushed his chin. Standing in front of him the man noticed the way she was shaped - long and thin. Her hair was a wiry brown that had grown out long past the blades of her shoulders. She was a fine female that resembled something he had seen before. 

They made love in the attic and soon after - the man left the house. As he walked down the street away from her house he turned around to take one final look at the window of her room. “What a bizarre night” the man thought to himself as he walked back to his friend’s abode.


He woke up with a throbbing headache and a flipping stomach, he stood up and walked around his friend’s apartment for a while.

“you’re awake.” the friend announced through a hoarse morning voice. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling fine, what a strange night I experienced last night.”

“Yes you did! Our friends were all very nervous, perhaps you should not drink so much. You hit your head like a hammer on the side of that bar!”

The man became confused. “What do you mean I hit my head on the bar? I went home with that strange, South.”

“Are you still drunk? Who the hell is South man? - you PASSED out at the bar and we carried your wooden sticks of a body home!”

The man felt a stinging in the back of his brain. Could this be? Could he have dreamt his evening with South? There has to be proof somewhere within the glue of the moments. He reached out his phone and called South’s telephone number he had received before he left her house - a solemn woman announced *I’M SORRY THIS NUMBER YOU HAVE REACHED IS OUT OF SERVICE OR NOT IN USE, THANK YOU, GOODBYE*

“Who are you calling?” the friend asked.

“Come with me, I’ll show you…” the man said as the two put on boots and walked out the front door. They began walking towards South’s house.


“I don’t believe it” the man said as he looked at the building which he could’ve sworn he had spent a romantic evening in. It was an old dilapidated house with holes in the porch, no front door and a strange high pitched noise coming from the center.

“What the hell do you have to show me in this piece of junk?” the friend asked. “How much of that stuff did you drink man?”

The entranced man walked slowly into the house and crept up the stairs to where the antique sofa had been the night before. The friend followed.

“This can’t be…I know I was in this house….where is..” he thought.

“let’s get out of here, I don’t think this…”

“LISTEN MAN - I know I was in this house last night. I was with a girl named South and we spent an evening in THIS ROOM. Whether you believe me or not is up to you, but because I SAW it all and FELT it all - no matter what anyone’s words say I know this to be true. We also…” he paused.

He saw the door in which led to South’s bedroom. 

“Watch” he said to the friend “I’ll open this door and it will lead to a dark staircase and an attic where there is a bed.”

He walked over to the door and put his shaking hand on the knob. 


He sat silently in the woods analyzing the events that had happened to him. It was a  timeless tale he thought, one that seemed to remain with him for the few days that followed. How could it be? Had he lost his mind? There’s no such thing as losing your mind when all the character’s are flawed. He couldn’t wrap his head around it however - there was no attic, no  dark staircase, no bed - all that stood behind the door was a long wiry broom, sleeping dusty in the corner of his mind.

    1. 2 notesTimestamp: Friday 2012/11/23 11:29:34shortstorytitanics
    1. titanicsmusic posted this