A Keyring Memory

           I saw this girl once. I saw her while she was working at the local food shop. She turned out to be a bit of an enigma for myself. She turned out to be quite significant to myself. And I saw her first.

           I was doing my weekly shop, which this week happened to be placed on a Sunday, and I had done my usual trick of eating before I came out to make sure I didn't buy as much stuff. I walked around that zigzagging rope for queuing that is never full and I took my place at the self service check outs. As I was walking there was when I spotted her, and at the time I can't say I thought much more than 'Ohh, you're fairly attractive.' like you think with every eighteenth person on the street. I beeped all my shopping through to the bags, carefully distributing the weight.

           I always had a problem with the security guard here, too. No matter how innocent I genuinely am and try to be, he always seems to walk around an aisle as if he doesn't trust me. So I look around to see whether the idiot is going to rugby tackle me to the ground over some Jelly Beans and I accidentally made eye contact with the girl. Twice. Now, I know I'm not the only one that when this happens automatically thinks 'she wants me', even though you know it's unlikely, and that is exactly what I thought.

           At that point was when I started to think about her, with her long straight black hair; dark eyes from the deepest mascara and pale complexion; tipped off with a red T-shirt and black trousers supplied by work. She was petite and while not the most obvious of beauty, there was something about her that I kind of liked.

           Then I left the shop. Stupidly enough, I was aware that not making my own opportunities meant I would get nowhere with anybody. But I wasn't going to speak to her. Of course not. She was nothing special that would make me step out of my comfort zone. Just an attractive girl.

She very quickly left my mind, the first time, and returned at the next visit. I was hoping she would be there before I even entered. The reason, I can not tell you. Perhaps I just like to be around pretty girls. She was not there, none-the-less.

           It must have been two weeks before I saw her there again on a Wednesday, stacking shelves. Needless to say, I skipped that aisle completely in the vain hope of not wanting her to see me, and again, I cannot tell you why. There was such an irrationality in my mind that it makes no sense even now. I saw plenty of people about my day, and she meant nothing to me, yet when I was there I was constantly aware of her presence.

* * *

           Another week goes by of complete absence from the shop before she is there again, standing at the self-service. I was only on a short trip this time to buy a bottle of rum for a 'lads night in' that evening.

           As I stepped up to my position at the payment point I turned to realise she was stood right in front of the bottle I was going for. I reached out my hand to suggest I wanted something there and I smiled at her. She gave me a half glance with a false-smile as she stepped out of the way. As I was paying, to be sure, I did notice my boyish smile as she walked over to ID me. Her fingers brushed mine. It was at that point, I realised there was something extra about this girl. Almost as if she passed some emotional thing to me via contact.

           Flowing thoughts of this girl on the way back to my flat was overtaken by thoughts of take-away pizza for lunch. Because, aside from our sporadic glances over weeks – I still had a life to live with things more important things to worry about.

           I did wonder, though, what that girl would look like in her normal clothes; what type of person she was. I will admit, I wondered about her a little too much seeing as I didn't know her in the slightest. However, she must have noticed me, too, apparently.

           Only a few days later I saw her again over a DVD rack in town. I contemplated talking to her; trying to spark a conversation, but, deep down, I knew there was no chance I would just talk to a random person. I didn't want her thinking I was a weirdo or something. So instead, when she looked in my direction, I just looked away.

           After she left, I walked round to where she was standing and saw she was looking at horror movies. My opinion of her went up, though I couldn't help think my usual tactic of using horror as an excuse to cuddle wouldn't work. Not that I thought mattered.

           Then things got a little more interesting.

           The bus I was on stopped. She walks on. She pays the driver and walks up to the back; two spaces away from me. Three guys followed her in that I barely noticed and before I knew it, we had eye contact.

           I smiled at her, wondering if she would give anything back - if she had noticed me.

           “Stop staring at me, and leave me alone.” she said in a harsh voice, yet almost in a sigh.

           “What?” I couldn't help but burst out, out of shock more than anything else.

           “I swear you're following me or something, I've seen you an increasing amount lately. And whatever you want, I'm not really interested. Okay?” she spat aloud, as I noticed the other passengers on the bus deliberately not looking back. I played as innocent as I was.

           “Woah, I was just trying to be nice!”

           “Nice? What by being creepy and staring at me, look, you don't know who I am – so I suggest you ignore me from now on.” She had calmed down at this point. I went to speak, but nothing would come out; my mouth hung slightly open and I obviously looked appalled and offended. She didn't seem to care. “Just go search for your bitch elsewhere.” That was an assumption I didn't like. She got up and walked over to the three guys, sitting a space away from them.

           She wore jeans that were tight around the arse and loose around the ankles, with a black T-shirt with some pink print. Her face was as pristine as I had always seen her in the shop, I couldn't put my finger on it, but she was with these lads who looked kind of like drug dealers. One of them with a buzz cut and an earring, wearing bright clothes, looked back at me, grinning and mauling his chewing-gum.

           I looked away as I had just been publicly falsely accused – which, in a way, I had been. For some reason, I was too curious to let things go, and her choice of words suggested she didn't really know what I wanted. Perhaps she was hiding something. I figured if I was in for a penny I was in for a pound.

* * *

           There are some boyish feelings that never go away. Things such as wanting what you can't have. I decided that it wasn't that I wanted this girl, it was more that I wanted to prove a point or just accept the challenge. Plainly to me, she was a difficult person, and I wasn't going to back off unless she gave me absolute reason.

           I re-visited the Tesco's every few days until I saw her working there on the Saturday. That was when the blanking started. I'm not sure if she saw, because I was too busy blanking her, but I made sure to seem too natural and therefore unnatural. I skipped the next week, so the other staff members didn't think I was odd. Then luck struck the next time as I blanked her, again. Just to emphasise the point.

           At the third time, I was sure she must have noticed me there. This time around I blanked her differently. I kept her in the corner of my eye, and when she was looking in my direction I swung my head to make eye contact and winked at her, before going back to blanking.

           This was a bold move, I am well aware. But what did I have to lose? She already seemed to hate my guts and I was naively going to take on anything.

           The rest of my life carried on as normal. I wasn't obsessive, but as I said, there was something about that girl. But seeing as there wasn't any girl in the world I was interested in, my playing it cool didn't last too long before I decided to have a bit of fun.

           The next time I saw her, I walked right up to her. Basket of shopping in hand. And I smiled. Her being at work, she couldn't do much to get me to shoo, so she quietly glared at me and said “Can I help you?”

           “Ohh, I was just wondering if you'd like to go for a drink.” I said confidently, expecting some vile spat in return about how she would get someone to beat me up if I didn't go away. Instead, she just rolled her eyes.

           “Okay.” She said, soft and casually. There wasn't a hint of chill in her words, and that confused me.

           “Tomorrow at seven? The King's Arms?” I said, out of shock. Confused expression riddling my face.            Did she even remember I was that guy from the bus?

           “I finish work at six, so I'll be there at eight.”

           “Deal.” I said, as I walked on, almost forgetting to pay for my shopping.

* * *

           It wasn't until she was back in my flat after six or seven drinks that I really thought about what was happening, albeit an overly tipsy realisation. This girl of whom I held round the waist until she was sat down and I offered her more drink, was the same girl that I had a fleeting, and careless, thought about in a food shop. It hadn't occurred to me before, that I might have been courting her for completely the wrong reasons.

           That being said, I'd had a brilliant night with this girl who all of a sudden was completely different towards me. She seemed so fun. I ignore the cliché of what people have in common – it's dislikes that is important, and we absolutely disliked the same stuff.

           After plenty of slurred conversation and tickling comments, we drew closer and then a bit of intimacy began to flow. This was the last thing I had expected at the start of the night and almost still was. I just ignored it, and went with her flow.

           Normally, I'm not the kind of person to sleep with someone so quickly. Though a mix of shocking enjoyment, not wanting to offend and absolute boyish lust drew over me until our clothes covered more floor than could be seen.

           I lost myself in the moment, and just before anything significant had happened, I felt her recoil.

           “I should probably warn you, before we do this. I do have a boyfriend.”

           The words, I later realised, were possibly the most worrying words that this girl could have said, and yet only caused a brief pause in my drunken and lustful state. Upon reflection, I should have made the link between the drug addled scum on the bus and the sores and fading bruses around her back, waist and shins. But in my mind, I assumed she meant 'but let's carry on anyway'. And that, I did.

           In the morning, there was nothing strange, just a casual getting dressed, a swift cup of tea and arrangements from her to leave. She explains to me that, “I had a lovely time,” she paused with a shy smile “It was great to have someone so caring.” I was expecting something more, before I realised the implications of what she was saying about her boyfriend.

           “Can I get your number, or something?” I asked in a vain hope, having already anticipated the answer. I knew I was unlikely to even speak to her again. “I don't think it's a good idea. I'd love to keep you as a memory though.” she added, as if trying to offer me something out of the experience. She knew I knew.

           There was a hug before she left. But then she was gone. The only time I ever knew anything of her after that was the knowledge that she no longer worked where I shopped, and that she had broken up with her boyfriend, somehow. What had happened to her around that, I have no idea. But perhaps I played a part in her life too.

           For me, though, for such a small and simple thing. I had learned so many things. That the people you oggle in the street have stories. And while there are other more important stories of my own life, I don't know how much more honest I could have been about this particular event.

An important keyring to the keys of my life, my mind; my being.

Letter To A Princess

           The tavern in question was exactly as it said on the sign: 'The Wood and Wood Inn'; where absolutely everything was wooden, from the cutlery to the windows.

           “How... how am I meant to win her heart?” Vitras wondered. “Her dad'll find a real man soon, so I need to take my chance now!” The tavern was quieter than he was used to, though at quarter past four in the morning, it was to be expected. How could he sleep when so pressed for time to catch his beloved's eye? But for the life of him, he could think of nothing he could do. He slammed his fist onto the table in frustration, making the only other customer in the tavern bolt awake, removing his sodden face from his grog, only to fall back to sleep with a splash.

           Vitras shot the lonely gent a dirty glance and stumbled towards the door ready to leave and find somewhere a little quieter. He paused to think of where to go. Vitras travelled around often, (using the title 'adventurer' where others used the term 'unemployed') yet the only place Vitras could imagine calling home was a small town named Lindell. Of all the backward towns he could like so much, he chose the one where he stood out like cactus amongst baby bums. For a male to have badly cut long brunette hair, it potentially made him a laughing stock – he however called it a trademark and figured it added to his many brilliant traits. At this moment, however, his mind was full of more than just how handsome he was, it was also full of the noble girl he wished to endear to.

           The floor was damp as Vitras stepped outside, mug in hand; he decided he'd head towards a place he knew as 'Rock', which was a place he could think quietly. Being such a travelling rogue, few would think him fond of a girl, so he craved solitude and 'Rock' was perfect for that.

           “Hey, bring my bloody glass back!” The barman burst out of the door of The Wood and Wood (which, if you weren't already aware, was made completely of wood) and snatched the mug from Vitras' hand, locking him with an icy cold stare. “Thief.”

                                                       * * *

           'Rock' was a stand alone boulder on a small hill just by the shore. It was still dark and not particularly warm, though it was as beautiful as always – especially as the sun would soon rise on the perfectly clear horizon. Vitras found himself perched up on the edge of the boulder facing the ocean before he even knew he was there, and whilst feeling the chilly breeze over his hands and cheeks and through his hair, a wet piece of paper slapped him in his face and stuck to him.

           Peeling off the note and wiping his face, he saw writing on the page. The note stated:

           “To whom it may concern,

           I am stuck in a large hole in the sand on the beach and cannot get out. Help me! Help me, please! I would very much appreciate a search party or perhaps a lone traveller with a rope, anything really to help me out of this hole. I am quite scared as the tide seems to be coming in hastily.

           Thank you for reading.

           Yours,

           Julie”

           The sun began to peek over the horizon and Vitras was silhouetted on the boulder with chin on fist and deep in thought.

           “I have it!” Vitras shouted, letting go of the note. “I'll write a letter to my love!” He jumped down from the rock and headed his way towards the Noble’s castle to the east of town: he needed to get help. He could not write to save his life. Or read to save someone else's. He ignored the note.

                                                       * * *

           On the hour long walk to the castle the sun had already risen with a bright cheery face screaming: 'Wakey, wakey! Rise and shine! Full day ahead!' which seemed to be the alarm for most nobles, meaning they had all recently got up to go about their business. From the outside everything seemed mostly quiet aside from chirping birds; happy because the crickets had shut up.

           Swimming a moat and scaling a wall was pretty easy for Vitras, it was always the other side that troubled him. His head made the first loud noise he'd heard all morning when it thumped against an upper room floor. The window he had climbed through seemed to be unnaturally high and as his vision focused he found himself in a bedroom, one that seemed to have been designed by an overly expressive fairy with a fetish for pink.

Brushing himself off, he heard speeding footsteps outside the room and figured someone was about to burst in – not knowing what else to do, he dove under the bed. The bed was only just roomy enough for one person, but he had to crouch a tiny bit to save his head poking out the top. The duvet hung over the edges so he felt safe enough but had to rely on sound. What followed was this: Rattle, shuffle, shuffle, scrape, shuffle, step, step, pause, bump, much louder shuffle, roll, roll. The next thing was feeling someone press tight up against his left hand side.

           Looking over and sharing a few seconds of staring before the girl spoke.

           “...Hey, who are you hiding from?”

           “Umm, you?” Vitras said before a further few seconds of staring.

           “Ahhhhh!” They both yelled at the top of their voices and scurried out from under the bed. Vitras ran out the room, still screaming and down a flight of stairs. He got quieter as he went an turned into a room before finding himself in a corner.

Feeling a tap on his shoulder, he opened one eye and turned around. He was surrounded by books and peering down at him was a hunched and hairy old man in extravagant clothing.

           “Are you okay?” said the man in a very posh accent muffled by a beard.

           “What? Yes. I was, um, just trying to get some bloody attention!” He nodded at himself reassuringly “ ...Yeah, that's what I was doing.” Rushing to his feet and standing as defensively as possible realising that he was a fair bit taller than the elderly man.

           “And wearing clothes like that in a place like this isn't attention enough?” the old man chuckled. “Why are you here then? What kind of attention are you trying to gain? People tend not to run screaming through a library for no reason... usually.”

           “Oh you look the bookish type!” said Vitras.

           “That's not an answer.” He looked over each shoulder at all the surrounding shelves of books after books. “Though I can't imagine how you came to that idea?”

           “I need your help then, can you help me?”

           “...Still not an answer, young man. I'll help you if you answer the questions I need to know.” He rubbed his long straggly beard. “Firstly, what is your name? Next, what is your occupation? How did you get into the castle? Why were you screaming and what do you need help with?”

           “I, um...” Vitras took a moment to note all of the questions in order. “Vitras. I'm a... free-lance jack-of-all-trades. I got into the castle by asking really nicely. I was screaming because there was some girl in her room. I need help to write a letter as soon as possible. Can you write at all, and is there somewhere more... quiet and proper we can go? It's getting creepy in here.” They both looked around the room at the hundred-odd surprised eyes beading their way. The old man raised his bushy eyebrows that almost knocked off his hat, and laughed.

           “The name is Cyrl.” He offered his hand, which Vitras gave a curious look, unsure what to do. “Follow me, if you please.” He dropped his hand. The man span around and waddled slowly towards the door. Vitras, in order to look casual to the peering eyes, leaned back in his walk, trying to act confident, and trying to look like he owned the place. It would have worked, too, if he didn't trip half way and tumble to the floor like someone kicked a rag doll.

                                                       * * *

           Cyrl turned out to be quite an important person, as he was the grandfather of the man who married the Queen's cousin, once removed. For all Cyrl's skill in writing and how helpful he was, Vitras couldn't help but feel the minutes were like hours. Whilst Cyrl tried to find all the right words for something sweet and suited to Vitras, Vitras himself attempted (sort of) to learn to read.

           There were so many books in the old man's private library, there was no knowing where to begin. Everything seemed to be there from a book called 'A Short History Of Ducks: Volume 4' to something called 'The Karma Sutra For Dummies'.

           Cyrl asked many many questions about preferences and ability and what he wanted the tone to be, and Vitras using words from the books tried to write something of his own. Using an alphabet book he'd just used to learn some letters, he wrote: 'A is for Apple, which is juicy like you. B is for 'Be mine', because I want you. C is for... Cat.' Which is only one example of Vitras' work. The others were so badly written and occasionally horrid, that when a boy broke into Cyrl's study a week later and went through his paper bin in order to steal something brilliant for a school project, he vomited in his mouth twice and vowed never to read again.

           After three long hours of writing, Vitras agreed on a note of Cyrl's that was good enough, poetic enough and had a point, he loved it:

           “If I could dream any dream, I would choose you to be my dream, but a dream you will always be if you never consider meeting me. If I wrote how much I loved you on this paper here, I would run out of pages to write of you, my dear. So if I had to choose a place to meet for romance's sake, I would ask you to meet me at twelve by the lake.”

           “Brilliant, I'll just leave it for her to find.” Said Vitras.

           “I could do better with more time, y'know. Let us just pretend those are your words.” Cyrl said, putting on his top hat and giving Vitras a lopsided wink like a large hairy dog.            “Though one last question my lad. Who is this lady you're perusing?”

           “Her name is Leanna. Lives in the royal village, just outside this castle, y'know her?”

           “The Princess?” Cyrl choked. He regained his composure. “Well, good luck then I guess.” He rolled his eyes before giving Vitras another dog-wink.

                                                       * * *

           Downstairs at the ground level, the lobby was bustling with activity; scattered people all going their separate ways. Looking down at his own clothes, Vitras could see he clearly didn't fit in. He decided to try to mingle and head out the main gate, anyway. The exit was two massive wooden doors with smaller people-sized doors in the middle of each. In front of the only operating door were two fully iron clad guards. They were going to be a problem, but the door was his aim and that's the direction he headed.

           Casually mingling with the crowd, Vitras got all the way to the door and placed his hand on the handle as if to stroll out before a voice stopped him, it was the guard to his right. Both guards, however, were motionless and looked directly ahead.

           “Can we 'elp you, sir?”

           “Not really, I'm just on my way out!”

           “Well, may we ask 'ow you got in? Peasant.” Said the left hand guard. The 'Y' shaped gap in their helmets were now fixated on Vitras, and he could feel their eyes rather than see them.

           “Err, I came in earlier in the morning, don't you remember? You didn't say a word then. Or were their different guards on, you all look alike, to me.” Vitras continued to act as cocky as possible. “If it was you, you must have some awful memories, I mean look at the way I'm dressed – you'd think you'd remember!”

           “Careful now, peasant. We don't 'ave to stall this, you could be going right in to the dungeon. We wouldn't let the likes o' you in, so 'ow did you get in?”

           “Well I didn't sneak in, if that's what you think. How dare you! May I take my leave now?” Vitras said to the left guard, who nodded to the right guard who shook his head.

           “Not 'til we get an answer, peasant.” was the reply.

           “Well, even if I did sneak in, surely it's fine for me to just sneak back... out?” Vitras grabbed the door and pushed but the lock held tight. He panicked and backed away from the guards who began to move in towards him. Pushing some passers-by who had gathered to see the commotion, Vitras leapt towards the guards, clambering over one of them and jumping off his head to get purchase on the wall behind. The crowd started making a lot of noise but Vitras didn't look back, he pushed forward on a vertical sea of stone as fast as he could to get to the window at the top. The crowd started to throw things at the escapee-spider, but not one person actually hit him: bits of potato, stones, a book, a fish and an anvil which severely dented the wall.

           Reaching his foot through the kicked open window, he followed through with the other and managed to keep his footing for the descent: better than usual. But after a very short distance he managed to misplace his footing for the second time that day and fell.            Managing to grab onto the lip of the large gate on the outside, he knew he was closer to the ground, regaining himself he made the extra distance and place both feet firmly on the outer drawbridge. Turning around to leave, he came to an abrupt stop at two metal plates.            Looking up, he squeaked at the guards.

           “Ehh, hi?” before each guard grabbed an arm and dragged him back through the now open door. Thrashing about wildly, he realised he could not resist the oafs of security so he sat back and allowed himself to be dragged into the dungeon. After a few seconds, however, he realised he was no longer in possession of his love letter.

           The beautiful note, on beautifully indestructible paper, tied with a beautiful red ribbon gently drifted down the moat towards the river's opening. Vitras was never to know.

                                                       * * *

           “It's so peaceful and romantic here.” Leanna said to herself, sat on a bench by the lake at some time around quarter past twelve.

           The sky could be seen reflected in the water that was shimmering on top and cloudy underneath and about as deep as a house in the middle. It was so shiny on the surface, that the reflection of the moonlight could blind and eagle, and for all the lake was worth, it was as deceiving as an onion painted red to pretend to be an apple.

           People liked to believe their lake was magical. That in the middle was a Sphinx that would ask riddles to passers-by and occasionally fight with the Kraken of the depths for territory as thousands of fish watched on; feeding on the faeries that flew atop the water. As if sparkles fluttered about and it could grant mystical powers such as healing or shape-shifting. None of this was true, however, and everyone knew so. The lake was dead; full of salt, so potent that a human could barely dip in their toe without it dissolving.

           Nevertheless, people loved their lake because it was theirs, it was beautiful, and it was a perfect place for a romantic meeting.

           Leanna, a nice, beautiful young maiden, was watching the wonderful waters when a small piece of paper, wrapped in a ribbon, happened to float by. Being careful of the water, she fished it out and read the note.

           “This is beautiful! Was this for me? It must have been because this would be far too much of a coincidence. I would certainly like to meet this person who is likely to be so very unsuited to me, but I will persuade my father anyway so that we can get married and have lots of middle class children – oh my!” She looked all around the lake to see if anyone was nearby before sitting back down on the bench. She rolled up the scroll and patiently started to wait. Prepared to wait for the man, for the writer of the note; just waiting for her love to arrive. If only he knew.