Jeffw's Blog

Get OUT of my pub!

Just joking, WELCOME! Here, you'll find some short fiction stories, anecdotes and my possible grumpy opinion on pretty much everything and anything. As you didn't in the slightest asked for it and because I can be magnanimous, I'll try to wrap it all in a clever cocktail of sarcastic witticism and stylish dark humour of the latest fashion, under the icy sophistication of which, you'll discern my true cry of despair to witness our world going to pot... or maybe it's just something I ate.
Don't hesitate to leave a comment! Thanks you, come again.

Caution MAY CONTAIN STRONG LANGUAGE AND HAZARDOUS PUNCTUATION... and with a bit of luck, some English too.

Monday, 1 July 2013


~ Three days ago I received a call from the school. My little boy had broken his arm on the playground. It turned out to be a rather nasty business, with surgery, 24 hour in hospital, etc... but he's fine now and very proud of his red cast.
However, the feelings that this call had awaken were somehow deeper and more complicated.
It reminded me of this old text below.
It's my worst translation to date, for which I apologise, but I still wanted to share this with you.
It happened a little over seven years ago and this is what I felt at the time.
All is true... ~

She is resting next door now. She fell asleep peacefully front of an old Audrey Hepburn film, her favourites. I can hear her breathing, regular and light, and it is good.

I still have flashbacks. Images which come to me, of the kind that keep you awake at night, that haunt you whenever you leave your mind wandering in the wrong direction. Images that send a long cold shiver down your spine, hollow out your guts, eat your life away. I'm ashamed to admit that those visions have nothing to do with war or famine, there are no children dying in my mind... only her. She's there, lying on the floor, still. A tiny drop of blood pearling at the corner of her lips. A small red puddle has already formed on the pavement and my heart forever stopping.

My darling, my love, my life... My Geinor has had an accident this weekend. 
There are a few things that I understand better now. Most of them are literary expressions, like sick with fear or knots in the guts, the others are more difficult to explain... certainties which somehow became suddenly even clearer, like: "Shit. I couldn't survive her."

I've experienced the most excruciating minute of my life, followed by the ten most intolerable.

When I turn around to see her there, on the ground, inert, almost at my feet, the realisation is almost immediate. I don't have time to laugh about it that my mind already registers the off-key details: an arm with a slightly odd angle, a sudden pallor – for fuck sake why is she not moving? – and of course the blood. The blood that fills her mouth, that drips from her nose, drop by drop, for fucking Christ WHY is she not moving?! My retina can only see red, this horrible viscous colour which has nothing to do out here. I can even feel its metallic taste in my mouth. Time stops. Everything becomes of a precision like white-hot iron branding my memory of the burn of the deepest anxiety imaginable.
Everything turns into a confusion of primal chaos, in a blur that has nothing of artistic, which smears all the sharpest details.
That big moron who tripped her, like that, just for fun, what colour was his t-shirt?... Yellow? Green?... This seagull cry piercing the sudden silence, tearing my soul, will I ever forget it? Why doesn't it shut the fuck up that stupid bird?! Down here, my world's falling apart.
Everyone rushes, nobody talks, except the idiot babbling unintelligible excuses like: “it was just a joke...” I can't even bring myself to be angry with that twat, she is alive and I thought I'd lost her, I don't care, he is nothing to me... and at that precise moment he's just a remote satellite in my reality.

She has no reaction... oh good lord. My knowledge of first aid flies away, my insides go hollow, my eyes overflow. Her mouth is open, there is blood everywhere now ; her eyes are open too, glassy, distant ... she's gone. She has the face of Death. I can't stand my crying any longer, my heart in my throat is about to explode. How horrible is that obscene and uncontrollable selfishness of those times of unbearable pain? I don't want to live without you.
God, don't leave me alone. Stay with me, me, ME...

They always speak of a panic wave. It's stupid. A panic tsunami overwhelms me, I'm shaking, my stomach is but one huge cramp, I am a torrent of tears. I vaguely hear that someone called an ambulance, I think... I stroke her hair, holding her head. Someone is trying to calm me down. He takes care of her too, he tells me that it's going to be al'right, those silly little words that we always repeat in such circumstances, void of sense, hollow. Everything is hollow without her... I don't even know if she's breathing? I don't any more. I don't know if her heart is still beating? Mine has stopped.
Ten intolerable minutes. We talk to her constantly now. Ten interminable minutes...
Her eyes close and then open slowly. After a little while, she regains a bit consciousness, says her name, pronounces mine. A landslide of relief almost crushes me with happiness. Nothing can stop my tears any more. And finally the ambulance arrives.
She walks to the door, I support her. At the hospital, they make me wait in an anonymous room where the tired seats have probably never seen better days, just the time to examine her. The apprehension suffocates me.
We fill in the few compulsory forms common to all the hospitals in the world and after two or three hours, I drive her to her mums, close to our home.
She's still in shock, we need to monitor her for the next two days, in case of trauma, but other than that, it's fine.
I'm still in shock, it will last more than two days I think, but other than that, it's fine. She is alive.

Whilst organising our wedding,
we re-contact many friends who we have more or less lost sight of. It had been three days that one of them was trying to contact us. So I take advantage of Geinor getting some sleep front of the fire to call her on her mobile. She is an actress, has a lot of talent, my age and I like her a lot.
"- Hello sweetie.
- Oh Jeffw! So how is it going in your
whales country?
- Well, it could be better. Geinor just had an accident, we just returned from the hospital. I was very scared...
- Shit... Nothing serious?
- No. No, it should be fine. Thanks.
- So... nobody told you then?...
- No, what? "
And then she tells me that a year ago to the day, on the 20
th of May, her beloved Maxim, the man of her life, had a serious car crash... I'm speechless.

He died on a first of June. Yet, it was such a nice day that day...

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