The winter house

-
A friend of mine and I are trying to escape. We are in a huge house. There are stairs leading up. We enter a small room. It seems to be an attic of sorts. A place of storage. It is not fancy. Perhaps no one will find us here.

I am living in this little room now. It’s not that bad. It’s small, but it has a kitchen, and there is a couch. There is someone already living there. I think it’s an Indian lady. My friend is not around anymore.

The girl whose place I was inhabiting told her mother, who was living there as well (the Indian lady), that I had come just at the right time. I was sent. And I thought, if only you knew my story! If only you knew I was trying to escape and that I had nowhere else to go. But she felt blessed that I was there. I remember she had black, shoulder-length hair and a friendly smile.

Suddenly I was driving towards a four-story house. I was with family, and we were driving towards our winter home. This house was situated in the woods. It was an American home, made of wood, and it was white-washed. It was beautiful. I wondered if we had a summer house too.

To start off the vacation, a group of us, myself included, played the tuba in procession. I remember choosing an instrument almost at random. I remembered the blockword and decided to make that the instrument of choice.

We were a big family. There was a tree in the garden that people were seated under in the shade. And an auntie was there, talking to others. I had a husband and son. But the whole affair was a large family affair at this winter house. Auntie was telling the story of the time a young girl had spent time in one of the small rooms in that house, in hiding. And suddenly it dawned on me that I was that girl. It was the same house I had lived in. That house now belonged to me.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Farmer And His Sons

-
Taken from Headway's Intermediate Student's Book: The Farmer And His Sons There was once an old, dying farmer who had worked hard in his vineyard all his life.  Before he died he wanted to teach his three sons how to be good farmers.  So he called them to his bedside and said, 'My boys, I have an important secret to tell you: there is a great treasure buried in the vineyard.  Promise me that you will look for it when I am dead.' The sons gave their promise and as soon as their father had died they began looking for the treasure.  They worked very hard in the hot sun and while they were working they thought about what their father had said.  They pictured boxes of cold coins, diamond necklaces, and other such things.  Soon they had dug up every inch of the vineyard but they found not a single penny.  They were very upset because they felt that all their hard work had been for nothing.   However, a few months later the grapes started to appear on the vines.  Their grapes ...
Read more

Speech technique No.2 - the Unifying Metaphor

-
The Unifying Metaphor: As opposed to a simile which compares two objects using a specific linguistic form, eg. the man was as brave as a lion, a metaphor compares two objects by equating the one with the other, eg. he was a brave lion.   Literally the man was not a lion, but figuratively he was.   This figure of speech is used in literary works of all kinds, including poems and news articles. The Unifying Metaphor aims to unify people.   An example of an American metaphor is the Camel man.   He is healthy, strong and tanned, and he can survive in the wild bushveld with merely a pocketknife and a piece of string.   He drives a 4x4, and he works hard all day.   This is the image of the Camel man – please correct me if I’m wrong.   The logic and truth behind this image may elude us, but what unifies us is what Elgin (1980: p. 227) calls the consensus perception . As a unity, we have reached consensus about the perception of the Camel man.   The theory reminds of the Jung’s colle...
Read more

Bevor ich geboren bin, bin ich gestorben.

-
Image
Bevor ich geboren bin, bin ich gestorben. Warum bleiben dann Gefühle meines eigenen Gewissens? Warum bleiben die Gedanken und die Träume meines eigenen Lebens, wenn mich doch Gott neu geschaffen hat, mir neues Blut gegeben hat, mich in eine neue Familie hat gebracht? Ich will nicht mehr traurig sein, dass mein Leben mir wie nichts vorkommt, dass ich mir so unglaublich wertlos vorkomme, und stattdessen will ich den Glauben fassen, dass Gott mich tatsächlich in Seinen Händen trägt, und mich wirklich beschützt vom Bösen. Ich will mich vergessen, mich verlieben, und dann für andere leben, für einen Sinn außerhalb meiner Wünsche, eine Gnade und Liebe erfahren, die nicht aus dieser Welt stammt, sondern ganz weit entfernt und doch so nah. Ich freue mich auf keinen Tod, doch meiner ist schon vergangen, und mein neues Leben hat schon begonnen, jedoch sieht es manchmal nicht danach aus, und ich schäme mich, dass ich mich nicht mehr hab vertraut an den Herrn, den lieben ...
Read more