{This is a response to a What Penman Saw Google Maps Street View prompt. This story takes place at St Kilda Pier, in Melbourne Australia. Unfortunately, the picture I chose has been removed, so you are stuck with another flower picture.
The image I discovered showed a change in the level of the railing along the pier, making it appear jagged, or misaligned. This phenomenon often happens with Google Maps, where one part of the composite does not quite sync to fit the one next to it. I imagined what could happen, if this rift were real, in the following story.
The widow’s walk refers not only, to the architectural feature on the main building at the end of the pier, but also, to the journey the man is taking, thereby risking making a widow of his own wife, Mary. Thank you for the prompt and thank you all for reading!}
It was subtle, but undeniable. Standing on the jetty, facing the sailboats, you couldn’t miss it.
My hand gripped the railing to steady myself. Such a jolt, to see refraction, in lines I knew to be straight!
Cold burned my fingertips. They had slipped behind the fold, just as a letter might slip into an envelope. I pulled them out hastily. Still attached.
Shaking all perception in its wake, the fault-line etched its way to the far shore.
Had the other tourists noticed? No. They strolled and ate ice cream. Unaware.
Stately, waiting at the jetty’s end, a Victorian café sported a widow’s walk. The last family ambled by.
Slipping my fingers through, again, I peeled back my surroundings like wallpaper.
“Mary, forgive me!” I whispered. As if she could hear.
A toddler turned and pointed, as I pulled the veil closed. Her sticky mouth was round with awe.
Wow this is different and very likeable, Andrea. I can taste the mystery and savoured your delighious descriptions over and over. Top draw!
Thank you, Kelvin. I am very excited to receive such a positive comment! I am rather fond of mystery, myself.
I got the idea of a space-time continuum, and perhaps a need to rescue. My thoughts on Mary? Being reared Catholic, I thought of Mother Mary. An interesting take on the prompt for sure.
I also was raised Catholic, so for me it has that hint of a prayer, too. Glad you got the premise.
An intriguing science-fiction take on the prompt. Presumably the narrator is making use of some form of ‘trans-dimensional’ portal; he/she clearly has some control over it. You’ve described its physical manifestation with great skill “Such a jolt, to see refraction, in lines I knew to be straight!” and then “Cold burned my fingertips. They had slipped behind the fold, just as a letter might slip into an envelope. I pulled them out hastily. Still attached.” That’s excellent writing.
The toddler is a lovely touch, as you make it clear she’d seen the narrator vanish.
I would make one small suggestion, though. ““Mary, forgive me!” I whispered. As if she could hear.” The reader knows nothing about Mary. Nothing happens to Mary in the story. So why include her at all? She’s an unnecessary distraction. Of course, that wouldn’t apply if this were the opening scene of a larger piece in which she plays an important role.
But don’t get me wrong – I’m mightily impressed by this story.
Thank you so much for your explanation, Penny, you have really hit the nail on the head. In condensing my thoughts I have clearly lost much of the sense of the original! Yes, I was thinking of a divide in the space-time continuum which the protagonist, for some unknown reason, cannot resist entering and exploring himself. The fact that the speaker was male was left out, and this proved to be very puzzling. Sorry about that. Mary is his absent wife, and the title refers to the danger he is exposing himself to. Glad you liked the parts that were comprehensible! And thank you so much for you input! I was clearly unaware of how thin the soup was, that I was serving.:)
I can see from what you say that you haven’t written the story that you hoped you had. I still say that what you’ve written makes a fine story.
Thank you so much, Penny. Apropos of nothing: I just read on Merriam-Webster’s twitterfeed that the word “implicit” comes from the Latin word, “plicare”: to fold. What with the fold in the space time continuum, and all my attempts to imply without actually saying anything out loud, i thought that that was the Tweet of the Day!
Dear Andrea,
I’m not sure what’s happening here. Is she a ghost? Like Joy, if this were the first lines of a novel I’d keep reading. Intriguing and mysterious. I get the feeling that the toddler is the only one who sees her.
Shalom,
Rochelle
Yes you’re right about the toddler being the only one to see what he is doing. I apparently neglected to include male characteristics, as well as other important info this time. Thank you, patient readers!Penny got it more or less right. A rip in the space-time continuum through which the speaker passes, leaving behind his wife, Mary. Clearly I have a ways to go before all my hints and nudges transform themselves into something resembling good fiction!
Peeling back her surroundings like wallpaper is such a great image! I don’t know quite what is going on, but what an interesting mystery. If this were the first page of a novel, I’d definitely want to keep reading to find out more!
Thank you, Joy. I’m glad it was intriguing. I am getting the impression from comments so far, that maybe I left a little too much out.(Sheepish grin.) In the original draft (well over 300 words, I’m afraid) it read something like, “The divide in the space-time continuum was subtle, but undeniable.” If you look at the picture I’ve chosen carefully, you’ll see it has some interesting features that suggest a sci-fi approach. Since we have so many great sci-fi practitioners here, I thought I’d try my hand at it. Hope I didn’t make too much of a fool of myself!:) I thought people might enjoy the puzzle, but…well, I’ll know better next time. Read Penny’s comment, she’s got the gist of it, and gets the prize! 😉 Oh, and a big piece of withheld information is that the protagonist is male.
I certainly got the science fiction angle to it and I thought it worked — inasmuch as you can get much across in such a short piece. I know what you mean about cutting 300 words down to 150, you have no choice but to leave out some of the important parts!
So true, Joy!