This is Pete checking in. I haven’t yet added anything to this blog other than images of myself, so I figured I should add something. It’s been rainy today here in Montenegro and I had a lot of time to do some writing about the goings on. Here it is… but I must warn you that I have mostly been reading Dostoevski and 19th century Victorian authors, so the writing might reflect that style. Enjoy!
It was a day like no other; a day when the howling winds outside the window were kept at bay by creaking windows, which, although hardened by age, retained but a minute semblance of their original strength. Dear Kimberly’s strength as well was nearly exhausted due to her ubiquitous fits of panic and constant state of general unease. She had been slumbering for the better part of the morning and afternoon when I found myself at a crossroads that presented me with the direst of circumstances.
We had, mostly due to me, completely exhausted our supply of juices. This fact, although seemingly trivial, was indeed trivial. But sometimes, as I’m sure we have all at one time experienced, the most trivial of events seem to carry with them consequences of inexorable importance. Thus, at this most unfortunate of crossroads, I determined to awaken Kimberly from her “sleep of ages”.
Kimmy Van Winkle eased slowly, yet entirely aware, into this dangerous realm of consciousness. Her trust in my requests remained tenuous throughout the endeavor—a fact of which I shall never fully understand. The cold, almost lifeless touch of her fingers as they first reached my hand was betrayed only be the warm, reddish hue that spread across the entire surface of her cheeks only to retreat back into a lighter, yet youthful and still vibrant olive. This dichotomy of carnal purity, made evident through the intricate coloring of her face, was what first attracted me to her. Yet, I digress.
As I explained to her the urgency of our situation, she failed to greet it with the same importance that I had attached to it. Her mask of indifference, or perhaps even a stoic attempt to acquiesce—however noble—was betrayed by the disconcerted look that I immediately found in her eyes, so recently freed from their bifocal bastille, which had for so long contained them. Her fear of the elements was great; the wind, admittedly a formidable adversary, always evoked a considerable shudder that reverberated through all of her faculties. She wanted to be strong, though her strength was obviously fading; she rose triumphantly, but, once again her eyes revealed her true feelings, the feelings that she was still unable to fully veil.
She had feared the wind ever since she was a small child and would not so easily overcome its fearsome nature. Yet, if one thing could entice her to “step into the darkness”—if I may employ the service of religious aphorism—it was candy. Her fear for most things in the natural world was surpassed only by her love for candy. With sugar as her motivating element—I promised her candy in exchange for her unquestioning trust—we began our slow trek through the wind and rain that, barring any unforeseen calamities, would end with nothing less than our fortuitous attainment of juiced nectars and, or course, candy.
*In case anyone was curious, Kimmy’s first utterance after I read this to her was, “can I get candy and Coke?”, thus the title. And, as evidenced by the picture, she did indeed get candy and coke—well, actually Pepsi—but close enough.