This was a fun prompt on the Curtis Brown course(very enjoyable). The prompt read: ‘It spilled everywhere, just everywhere.” Once you start writing, you find it just spills out! And a timer can be a great idea too!
It spilled everywhere, just everywhere, which was of course my intention. Dust adds something to scent. I decanted a little of the perfume into a special crystal reservoir and then added some spittle. Who would be able to resist a citrusy heaven of lavender, vanilla and thyme- warmed on salty driftwood? Mr Fitz, my partner in crime, leapt back onto my head, gibbering in his impure monkey way, until I shut him up with a gift of a new yellow fedora. He’s easily bought and terribly vain. I blame his mother who was much the same. They toured the world in a large musty tent until Bella rescued them both, retiring the mother and offering steady, imaginative employment to the son. Mr Fitz loves his work and as this story will show; his skills are quite exceptional even if he tries my patience a little. Sometimes when I see him work, I applaud his delicacy, his care. When the signal is given, his vanity simply falls away. He anoints himself in the perfume; his fingers and toes and even his tail become conduits for our healing, thyme travelling scent. Without this coming together of animal musk and perfume, our magic would disappear. No visitor would be unburdened of their worn out ways, of their tired habits. Our perfume serves the unconscious. You must try it one day.
Of course I have my own role too. I won’t tell you my original name as it could prove an impediment to your trust. And I do want you to trust me. So I prefer to be known as Mij. I like quiet corners and rarely appear in photographs. I watch people. I gauge their heat. Do you know that our thoughts carry their own distinctive temperature? People walk towards me and I just know. Like this young man with his dog. It’s 35 degrees at the beach and his head is cold. He lies about love. The dog knows everything. Maybe I will change his temperature, just a little. I alter my breath. It’s my nature you see. We’ll come back and check on him very soon.
Outside, above the terrace doors and all along the wooden walkways to the sea, huge blue banners declared, ’ ‘Curiosity at the beach- thyme travel for beginners!’’ We have sold over three hundred tickets and I doubt the bars in Folly Beach will do much business tonight. Everyone who can breathe will be here. We are running late as always. Punctuality is the enemy of imagination don’t you think?
Mr Fitz and I are waiting for Bella’s signal. Our silhouette looks particularly striking today. I’ve a good feeling. The sea and the waves are a beautiful backdrop for our Carnival of memory. I feel ready, poised on the cusp of adventure. Fitz is playing with the brim of his hat.
Bella gives her signal. Mama Cass begins singing out of the Wurlitzer. Dream a little dream of me. Like smiling sleep walkers the audience start to move inside. Mr Fitz cradles the crystal reservoir and anoints himself gently..Jicky 1889 lives again. It is time to ravish tired minds.
