Back From The Future Blog Party
Another joint blog adventure- if you want to see who else said what the list of participants is here.
The premise is this:
'You're up before dawn on a Saturday when the doorbell rings. You haven't brewed your coffee so you wonder if you imagined the sound. Plonking the half-filled carafe in the sink, you go to the front door and cautiously swing it open. No one there. As you cast your eyes to the ground, you see a parcel addressed to you ... from you.
You scoop it up and haul it inside, sensing something legitimate despite the extreme oddness of the situation. Carefully, you pry it open. Inside is a shoebox -- sent from ten years in the future -- and it's filled with items you have sent yourself.
What's in it?'
Here's how I imagined it:
Shadows outside, first forming.
Sleep has gone, I don't know where. Coffee I can find.
All the way from Machu Pichu, this fair-traded pack. Scissors are in the drawer, which is where they should be. Not where I expect them to be. Snick, one open pack.
Am I talking to myself?
Always monologue when I wake up too early: yeah, I remember now, that is what I do.
Cafetiere: here somewhere. Left it in the fridge once: here, here it is. Behind the soup pan.
Kettle steam is pretty. Usually overlooked, the prettiness of it.
Right: next. Two heaped up spoons; one; two: wait for-
A knock at the door?
I think this might be a dream.
Buckle my shoe
Knock on the door.
Ow, shit, shit: fumbled it: ow!
This bit isn't dreamy. Just not quite awake. It's too early.
Cold water, for a burn.
I need that coffee.
I heard a knock.
Just go and look.
I see shadows, and the flits of birds: they are started. They like early.
Oh. A parcel?
Yes. That's what it is. Oh.
Brown paper. And a picture: simplistic little sailed boat. I draw that: I draw a boat exactly like that.
I see. It's going to be one of those days. Inside this package is a shoebox: I will send it to myself, ten years from now. Yeah, I remember now, that is what I do.
The first time was the weirdest.
It's still so early. I'll have the coffee later. I'm going back to bed.
What have I sent? It's never a lottery ticket.
Nestled in shredded tissue paper, most as per the usual list:
One periwinkle shell
One mussel shell
One dog whelk shell
Two, unmatched, baby socks
A bottle of good brandy
A pepper grinder (this is new- mine broke, last week: I remembered!)
Three new drawing pens
One pristine notebook
A pack of silver sequins
'Is the steam as beautiful if anyone should neglect to see it?'