(Warning: This is not a nice story)
Valencia had had enough. It rained and rained and rained. She wasn’t too worried about the Bloxham family, the neighbours on the left hand side; she was more concerned about Janet on the other side of the road. Janet lived alone, and with total lockdown demanded by the government, there really was no way that Valencia could check on Janet.
In the end Valencia could take it no longer. She had obeyed the lockdown orders for two months now. She left her house, strode across the road, and knocked on Janet’s door. Janet answered.
“I was just checking to see if you were okay and if there was anything you needed,” said Valencia. Everything was fine, so Valencia returned home.
It can’t have been more than twenty minutes before the police arrived. The Bloxham’s next door had seen and reported. Their neighbour was wandering the neighbourhood indiscriminately. Valencia explained to the police that she had been checking on a neighbour. That was not good enough. Valencia was issued with a warning.
Valencia had had enough. It rained and rained and rained. She went into the kitchen, turned on the gas, and stuck her head in the oven.
Good grief! A Sylvia Plath ending! I really don’t know what to say. Why would Valencia resort to something so extreme? I guess you’ve portrayed Cabin Fever and added a macabre Bruce Goodman touch to it.
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Actually I was inspired by Virginia Wolfe’s “Orlando”!
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Well, it could have happened that way.
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I think it often has…
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…then seeing how filthy it was, put on her rubber gloves and set about cleaning it. There’s nothing like a clean oven to lift one’s spirits.
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There’s nothing like a clean oven to lift one’s spirits – I wouldn’t know!
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Too real. Way too real. This is no joke, it’s a story that’s being replayed again and again.
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I keep falling out of fiction. I can’t help it.
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A touch of reality never hurt anyone. Or as a (possibly wise) man once told me, “drugs are for people who are afraid of reality, and reality is for people who are afraid of drugs.”
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That’s an excellent statement – and so is your quote
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It’s stuck with me.
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I was hoping Valencia would light a fire to the Bloxham family’s home. Damn busybodies. That would teach them not to tell tales.
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Max – you always bring out the best in people. Rock on!
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I can understand Valencia’s rage. Maybe she was suffering from rain fever. The question remains as to who had reported on Valencia if not Janet?
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Janet being the snitch has definite literary possibilities.
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You’re right. This is not a nice story. I feel like I should check in on you. It’s a pretty good distance, though. Someone would probably report me.
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The Internet makes the world a small place. I could be pretending and living across the road! (But I’m not!)
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True. Just to be sure I’ll run a plate of cookies next door and see if you answer. Consider yourself checked on.
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Please tell me your oven’s electric.
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I never knew till now that I had an oven. I have a wood burner. What else is needed?
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One of those new-fangled water pumps in the kitchen might be handy.
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If it’s shiny I’m interested.
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This line made me pleased😊 “I was just checking to see if you were okay and if there was anything you needed,” said Valencia. Everything was fine, so Valencia returned home.”
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You should have had her gas the Bloxhams.
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Thanks Lisa for your sensitive comment. I shall try to emulate such kindliness!
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A pity nobody was keeping an eye on Valencia. And it’s too sad that her own compassion was the final straw.
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I should’ve killed them off in the story. It would’ve saved a lot of trouble!
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