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I finally went to the crazy lady’s house. There were perks. For one, she lived in Hawaii. Her home was a Spanish adobe with tall ferns. She served chips and salsa with poi. At first, I wasn’t sure if I’d like it, but it tasted okay.
I placed an envelope on her coffee table. Since we shared the same name, our mail had been mixed up for years. I’d received her tax refund by mistake and was here to return it.
I asked, “How do you support yourself?” Living in Hawaii wasn’t cheap. Getting here from Indiana had cost most of my meager savings. Yet, she had insisted I come in person. What was the price of crazy these days?
She grinned, revealing a gap-toothed smile. “I surf.” Her leathery skin was marked with a star-shaped birthmark on her forearm. A birthmark just like mine.
“A champion,” said another tall woman in a matching turquoise muumuu. She had long scraggly brown hair like the crazy lady too. I suspected they were sisters.
I sat. “Why am I here?” I pointed to the envelope.
They perched on either side of me on the wicker settee. “Close your eyes, farm girl.”
“What for?”
“We want to see.”
I considered myself an open-minded person, so I closed my eyes. They rubbed my eyelids with their bony fingers. Warm circles of darkness. The ocean roared through the open windows.
The crazy lady said, “Focus on the past.”
I opened one eye, saw a finger too close and shut it again. “What for?”
“You’ll remember.”
The crazy lady had e-mailed for weeks. Called my home. Tracked down my cell number and badgered me until I responded. Said she knew my secret. I had assumed it regarded the tax refund check, but how could she have known I had it? Unless she had mine?
I tried to clear my mind. But it wasn’t working. I sat up. A firm hand nudged me down. Then I remembered a large, latticed, mahogany box. I could see out of the box but not in. Carved wooden flowers everywhere. Somewhere, a ukulele played.
“Tell us what you see.”
I described the box. They stopped rubbing my eyelids. The tide whispered my name. “Take me to your beach.”
The sister pointed to the arched doors. “Out there.”
I ran through the doors and emerged on an obsidian-laden beach. The tide called again: Jump in. A striped surfboard stood upright, next to an empty bucket.
I turned to the ladies. “Mind if I borrow this?”
The crazy lady nodded. Her sister waved.
I pulled the surfboard loose and ran to the water. I flopped onto it and pumped my arms over the shifting tide. A stronger wave rolled in; my legs firmed. I balanced on the board; the swell of the tide rose under my feet. The board lifted and I crouched, coasting through a water tunnel while tasting the salty tang of the ocean. My fingertips glanced the wave, alive and hard.
I rode the wave to shallow water. People on the beach pointed. I searched the shore. The crazy lady, her sister and their house had vanished.
My body knew how to surf. How? My fingertips and toes ached to glide again. But, I returned the surfboard to its upright position. The beach bucket was now full of black pebbles. I stood, a surfer reborn.
Stacy Post is a writer, librarian and native Hoosier. She shares a birthday with Roy Rogers, loves eating Hot Tamales and plays piano by ear. Her previous writing credits include publication in WOW! Women on Writing: Fall 2009 Flash Fiction Finalist, Every Day Poets, Haiku Headlines and blogging for the Indianapolis Star as a community blogger.
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34 Responses to “THE BIG BLUE • by Stacy Post”
Comments
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February 23rd, 2010 at 1:32 am
An absorbing tale, well written, but weirdly confusing.
Rather than leaving a little to the imagination, it merely leaves too many questions unanswered.
February 23rd, 2010 at 2:52 am
Tightly written, surreal. I expected to be surprised by the ending and was. Five from me.
February 23rd, 2010 at 5:49 am
I liked this right up to the end, but it left me wondering what it was actually about.
February 23rd, 2010 at 6:43 am
Too much MFA about this one. Another way of saying, I’m not sure what happened, or why I would care.
February 23rd, 2010 at 6:46 am
Turn left four times.
February 23rd, 2010 at 6:59 am
Four stars! Fresh and intriguing.
February 23rd, 2010 at 7:02 am
Well written, but confusing. I like the ending.
February 23rd, 2010 at 7:23 am
Okay I’ll agree, I’m confused to.
February 23rd, 2010 at 7:23 am
Reality segues into a dream.
I was intrigued by the setup; a woman travels across half the country and half an ocean to return a tax refund check. When this veered into surreal territory, I felt a little disappointed. Was looking forward to a good mystery.
–John
February 23rd, 2010 at 7:49 am
Good point, JC Towler. It’s not mystery enough, nor surreal enough, and I think that’s my problem. It should be one or the other.
I liked the surfboard and the bucket, although I don’t understand the significance of the bucket being filled. Not convinced the sister of the crazy lady was necessary – did she add anything to the story? And, agreed, returning a tax refund check (while denuding your savings) is a weak premise to travel so far – where’s the compulsion?
There’s potential here, but it needs work to realize it.
February 23rd, 2010 at 7:50 am
Interesting! Surreal and dreamy…I enjoyed this story.
Elizabeth
Mystery Writing is Murder
February 23rd, 2010 at 8:13 am
I didn’t particularly find this surreal, it was more like a puzzle with too many of the pieces missing. Just didn’t work at all for me.
February 23rd, 2010 at 8:41 am
This story is part of the new genre of people turning into other people. If there is a mystery about how someone “became someone else,” it’s only because whatever happened/was done/ experienced in the interval is unknown by the “amazed” questioner. Mental and environmental transitions that change people are interesting to read about. Magic wands are boring (although I do like technology).
But the story is very well, in fact poetically written.
Bob – Re bucket: Maybe the MC had the choice of catching a fish in the bucket or riding on the tide. Not having had my breakfast yet, catching a fish sounds good, but if I was told “And this will have to do you for forever,” I also would have chosen to skim the tide. The bucket, afterward heavily laden with black stones, is only a stuck-in-the-mud.
February 23rd, 2010 at 8:47 am
A well-written bit of confusion. I don’t do good at these types pf stories.
February 23rd, 2010 at 8:50 am
An intriguing piece.
February 23rd, 2010 at 10:13 am
I liked this story a lot, though maybe I’m a bit biased since I *love* surfing stories! I also liked the supernatural element. My idea was that the MC was somhow a reincarnation of the older lady who shared her name, despite the fact the other lady was still alive.
February 23rd, 2010 at 10:38 am
I agree with Jen (16) about the sense that this was the beginning and end of a mysterious cycle. Left me wanting to know more.
–John
February 23rd, 2010 at 12:52 pm
Loved the interconnectedness aspect of this story. I also really liked how you described what you noticed when they were rubbing your eyes. There are some confusing aspects here. It feels like you haven’t quite got all your inner-vision out into the piece yet. There are some things you assume we know or can see. I found it very thought provoking.
February 23rd, 2010 at 1:33 pm
This grabbed me but has just left me frowning with confusion.
February 23rd, 2010 at 1:44 pm
I wasn’t impressed by this. Too much telling, not enough showing. It seemed more like a free-write than an intentional story. Things didn’t connect and were left too vague. Not sure where the box comes in, nor the bucket. Were the two women wearing matching muumuus? Because the way it’s worded is vague and one might be confused that the sister was wearing a two muumuus that match. Which in itself doesn’t make sense.
I feel like this story could have used more revision.
February 23rd, 2010 at 4:19 pm
What an intriguing story!! Good job!
February 23rd, 2010 at 5:06 pm
Very nice. I like the intrigue – interesting ending.
February 23rd, 2010 at 10:02 pm
I liked the flow to the writing, very poetic.
But I felt like the piece was trying too hard to be surreal, and instead left me confused.
Not crazy about it.
February 24th, 2010 at 4:00 am
You had me at–”She said she knew my secret.” I like secret stories. The story reminds me that we harbor secrets that we keep from ourselves concerning our potential.
February 24th, 2010 at 8:41 am
The crazy twists and turns kept me intrigued. Almost like a dream but not. Enjoyed this!
February 24th, 2010 at 8:47 am
Some beautiful prose. Loved the surfing description but was confused by the bucket, and the signifcance of the sister. Loved the box she could see out of but not into… This is my first readinng of surreal short story so perhaps I need more practice in understanding.
February 24th, 2010 at 10:28 am
I like the line “I stood, a surfer reborn.” It deepens the understanding of the black stones.
February 24th, 2010 at 1:33 pm
I want to thank everyone who voted and commented. I’m delighted the story stirred up a discussion. I’d also like to thank, Every Day Fiction, for publishing this experimental piece.
I consider it a dream piece, and Jen (comment 16) followed my line of thought perfectly. For me, the pebbles represented the gift of time passed from the crazy lady to the surfer. (In a longer version, the crazy lady gathers the pebbles one by one while the surfer reclaims her joy.) For the sake of keeping it short, I cut that.
Ultimately, not every story is for every reader, but I appreciate that you took the time to read it and question it. Thank you!
February 24th, 2010 at 2:02 pm
I guess I just don’t like “surreal.” Because surreal seems to mean the writer can write about characters who do things that people in real life would never do: travel to Hawaii from Indiana because of an e-mail from a stranger? I don’t think so.
Okay, okay. How was the story written? I give it a three.
February 25th, 2010 at 9:04 am
Ronda – I think the writer has some things he is afraid to “reveal”. But the story should come ’round to sense on the surface anyway.
Guy – “Surreal means “Heightened reality.” I think you described “fantasy.”
February 25th, 2010 at 9:07 am
The characters are interesting and so is the plot, but the interaction is based on the protagonist leaving home and draining her savings to meet a stranger to return a check that she could easily have mailed. I don’t buy it.
February 25th, 2010 at 4:48 pm
Oh, there is so much more to be said, isn’t there, Stacy? I think you should re-visit these characters, whether they stay in the frame you have them, or not, I am interested in these characters and what has been “unsaid” -and for me, if you have compelling characters, everything else can fall into place, right? take another look at these characters and see what they have to say….
March 1st, 2010 at 3:23 am
I’m with John Taylor.
Experimentation is always worthwhile, so I am pleased to have read it.
I was very unsure about “Somewhere, a eukulele played” and entirely unconvinced by “obsidian-laden beach”.
May 9th, 2010 at 8:22 pm
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