justprompts; Everything You Imagine
Everything you can imagine is real.
-Pablo Picasso
At night she can hear singing.
It’s distant and quiet. A strange, unearthly song carried over stars and darkness. Unearthly? She doesn’t even know what that could mean. There’s nothing beyond Earth. Nothing beyond Chiswick. Nothing beyond temp job after temp job after temp job.
But there’s that singing. It’s in her dreams so often now that it’s getting a bit ridiculous. But she doesn’t mind. Not really. She won’t admit she looks forward to sleep and hearing that song. A lullaby from an old friend, saying she cares. That she misses her. That they miss her, whoever ‘they’ could possibly be.
Sometimes she sees flashes in the song. Except she doesn’t really see anything. She doesn’t remember it for long when she wakes up.
She can’t remember-
But she’s running, somewhere, somewhere so far away that it doesn’t have a name. It doesn’t need a name, because she’s there and she loves it and that’s all that matters. And there’s someone there with her. Someone who’s holding her hand. Long, bony fingers and he never eats enough, she thinks, because she always worries about him. Worries about him not eating, about never changing his clothes, about letting it tear away at him and never taking a break. He needs her, of course, to tell him all that. And sometimes she can admit she needs him.
In the morning haze, she thinks maybe she’s dreaming of her perfect man. Someone she could spend her life with. Maybe settle down, get married.
Whenever she thinks the last part, she laughs until she cries and she can’t understand why.
She wants to run.
She feels the urge, sometimes, walking between the shops. She feels like there’s something bigger that she’s missing out on. She wants to run, high heels and all, abandoning everything and running until she doesn’t have any breath left. Maybe she’ll find someone who needs her help. Because she can help, she can. She can do something.
But she’s just a temp from Chiswick. Nothing special. No one who could ever save anyone.
So she takes out her mobile and reads messages at lunch. She tells herself it’s just her mind hinting that she needs to take up jogging.
One day, she stops on the hill. Her grandfather’s hill, though he’s inside right now, getting a mug of tea. It’s cold out tonight and she stares up at the stars, the only warm points of light in the entire black sky.
She hears the singing.
It’s the song from her dreams. It’s there. It’s close by. Maybe down the street. But the singing sounds so clear that she covers her ears.
‘Please,’ the song pleads, though how she understands, she can’t even imagine. Or maybe it is just imagining. Maybe that’s all she ever does anymore. ‘I know. I know everything will be all right.’
There’s a sting in her head. She always has a headache after these dreams but she’s noticed it fading away with time. Even now it’s only an irritating prickle. Fading away each day, letting her go back to…back? Back to?
‘You saved us so many times. Thank you.’
She stares up at the stars. She knows their names. Maybe her gramps is rubbing off on her. But she knows they’re beautiful.
She wants to see them. She thinks someday she might and can’t bring herself to laugh, no matter how silly the idea is. No one can travel through the stars.
She runs down the hill, runs as fast as she can and this time she laughs.
When she sleeps that night, she’s running again. This time it’s not from some unknown danger. They’re running just because. He’s always running with her. They can both hear the song. It’s cheerful this time and they hold hands because it’s nice to run with someone.
No one can run forever. But she thinks it might be nice to run until she can’t anymore. It’s close enough to forever.
He smiles when she promises to run with him and she forgets it the moment she says it. But she means it.
She wakes up the next day and packs carefully. All her movements are jittery and it takes her a while to fold her clothes. She thinks she’ll need hats, because she never got to use them, but she thinks it’s a silly thought. Still, she grabs her favourite one just in case.
Just in case of what? It doesn’t matter anymore. She’s going to run.
“And where do you think you’re off to?” he mother asks, staring in disbelief over her coffee.
“I don’t know.” She’s grinning. “I just don’t. Maybe I’ll drive until the gas runs out. Oh! And then I could walk. Just walk somewhere! Fancy that. I’ll need better shoes, I think.”
Her mother just stares through the ramble. “You can’t just go somewhere without knowing where you’re going!”
“And why can’t I?” she protests. She’s already walking away.
“Because you can’t! You can’t just leave for nowhere.”
Her step falters. Her fingers tighten around the handles of her bags. Maybe her mum is right. What is she doing? A temp from Chiswick who’s never done anything with her life. What can she do?
But the song’s still there. It’s somewhere. Just like somewhere she’s still running with that daft man. And somehow she knows that someone believes in her.
You were always special.
Maybe she can believe in her.
“Super Temp,” she says, smiling. “I’ll find somewhere. I just have to get there. Traveling’s more fun anyway. There’s so much out there.”
She’s only ever been to a few places. She can’t possibly know what real travel is like.
But she hears that song.
She’s still holding someone’s hand.
Her gramps is waiting for her. “You just go out there, Donna. You just go and…and make yourself happy. I’m proud of you.”
“I’ll just walk in the dust,” she says, smiling. “And I’ll be brilliant. I think I already might be.”
She doesn’t know what it means. She can’t be sure of anything yet. She’s a temp. She’s used to things not lasting.
But they smile like it could last forever.
And she runs.
-Pablo Picasso
At night she can hear singing.
It’s distant and quiet. A strange, unearthly song carried over stars and darkness. Unearthly? She doesn’t even know what that could mean. There’s nothing beyond Earth. Nothing beyond Chiswick. Nothing beyond temp job after temp job after temp job.
But there’s that singing. It’s in her dreams so often now that it’s getting a bit ridiculous. But she doesn’t mind. Not really. She won’t admit she looks forward to sleep and hearing that song. A lullaby from an old friend, saying she cares. That she misses her. That they miss her, whoever ‘they’ could possibly be.
Sometimes she sees flashes in the song. Except she doesn’t really see anything. She doesn’t remember it for long when she wakes up.
She can’t remember-
But she’s running, somewhere, somewhere so far away that it doesn’t have a name. It doesn’t need a name, because she’s there and she loves it and that’s all that matters. And there’s someone there with her. Someone who’s holding her hand. Long, bony fingers and he never eats enough, she thinks, because she always worries about him. Worries about him not eating, about never changing his clothes, about letting it tear away at him and never taking a break. He needs her, of course, to tell him all that. And sometimes she can admit she needs him.
In the morning haze, she thinks maybe she’s dreaming of her perfect man. Someone she could spend her life with. Maybe settle down, get married.
Whenever she thinks the last part, she laughs until she cries and she can’t understand why.
She wants to run.
She feels the urge, sometimes, walking between the shops. She feels like there’s something bigger that she’s missing out on. She wants to run, high heels and all, abandoning everything and running until she doesn’t have any breath left. Maybe she’ll find someone who needs her help. Because she can help, she can. She can do something.
But she’s just a temp from Chiswick. Nothing special. No one who could ever save anyone.
So she takes out her mobile and reads messages at lunch. She tells herself it’s just her mind hinting that she needs to take up jogging.
One day, she stops on the hill. Her grandfather’s hill, though he’s inside right now, getting a mug of tea. It’s cold out tonight and she stares up at the stars, the only warm points of light in the entire black sky.
She hears the singing.
It’s the song from her dreams. It’s there. It’s close by. Maybe down the street. But the singing sounds so clear that she covers her ears.
‘Please,’ the song pleads, though how she understands, she can’t even imagine. Or maybe it is just imagining. Maybe that’s all she ever does anymore. ‘I know. I know everything will be all right.’
There’s a sting in her head. She always has a headache after these dreams but she’s noticed it fading away with time. Even now it’s only an irritating prickle. Fading away each day, letting her go back to…back? Back to?
‘You saved us so many times. Thank you.’
She stares up at the stars. She knows their names. Maybe her gramps is rubbing off on her. But she knows they’re beautiful.
She wants to see them. She thinks someday she might and can’t bring herself to laugh, no matter how silly the idea is. No one can travel through the stars.
She runs down the hill, runs as fast as she can and this time she laughs.
When she sleeps that night, she’s running again. This time it’s not from some unknown danger. They’re running just because. He’s always running with her. They can both hear the song. It’s cheerful this time and they hold hands because it’s nice to run with someone.
No one can run forever. But she thinks it might be nice to run until she can’t anymore. It’s close enough to forever.
He smiles when she promises to run with him and she forgets it the moment she says it. But she means it.
She wakes up the next day and packs carefully. All her movements are jittery and it takes her a while to fold her clothes. She thinks she’ll need hats, because she never got to use them, but she thinks it’s a silly thought. Still, she grabs her favourite one just in case.
Just in case of what? It doesn’t matter anymore. She’s going to run.
“And where do you think you’re off to?” he mother asks, staring in disbelief over her coffee.
“I don’t know.” She’s grinning. “I just don’t. Maybe I’ll drive until the gas runs out. Oh! And then I could walk. Just walk somewhere! Fancy that. I’ll need better shoes, I think.”
Her mother just stares through the ramble. “You can’t just go somewhere without knowing where you’re going!”
“And why can’t I?” she protests. She’s already walking away.
“Because you can’t! You can’t just leave for nowhere.”
Her step falters. Her fingers tighten around the handles of her bags. Maybe her mum is right. What is she doing? A temp from Chiswick who’s never done anything with her life. What can she do?
But the song’s still there. It’s somewhere. Just like somewhere she’s still running with that daft man. And somehow she knows that someone believes in her.
You were always special.
Maybe she can believe in her.
“Super Temp,” she says, smiling. “I’ll find somewhere. I just have to get there. Traveling’s more fun anyway. There’s so much out there.”
She’s only ever been to a few places. She can’t possibly know what real travel is like.
But she hears that song.
She’s still holding someone’s hand.
Her gramps is waiting for her. “You just go out there, Donna. You just go and…and make yourself happy. I’m proud of you.”
“I’ll just walk in the dust,” she says, smiling. “And I’ll be brilliant. I think I already might be.”
She doesn’t know what it means. She can’t be sure of anything yet. She’s a temp. She’s used to things not lasting.
But they smile like it could last forever.
And she runs.