howsmyenglish

Sooo, since, as I said, I opened this account mainly to test my English... or to practice... yes, to practice writing in English... I thought, at least from time to time I should post some fiction. Let this one be the first. It's a not-quite-translation of a series of very short not-even-stories I wrote some years ago in another language. I didn't read them over before writing this, just worked from memory and how I feel now.

I'm very impatient when it comes to short fiction for blogs. This probably could have been much better if I waited for a couple of days, but I can't, I just have to post it the minute I think it's quite nice.

I will be grateful for comments - as always, especially about the language.

This is a story about Mary. Although she likes calling herself Marie: she thinks it makes her sound more... romantic. Mary wears semi-long skirts with semi-heavy boots, cardigans (preferably red ones) and hats. She likes looking at clouds and not infrequently runs into various-sized garbage containers in sunless weather.

She does not like to be in the center of attention. Once, she inadvertently walked into an empty store with a bell above the door. The bell rang. Mary froze, but it was too late. The store lady - she must have been the owner with a look like that - came out of her secret back room, looked Mary up and down and said: "Bonjour".

Mary got so flustered! She went right - to look at a bag, forgot where she was going, headed deeper inside, panicked, thought she might never get out again, then closed her eyes firmly for a second, breathed in, breathed out, pulled herself together, turned around and walked straight up to the check-out counter. This was when her courage left her again, so she grabbed the first thing within reach, put in on the counter with a crack and said: "I'm not French!"

The first thing turned out to be a bunch of paintbrushes. They were standing in a papier-mâché cup next to the cash register, each costing 2,99. The shop owner lady counted them and announced: "53,82, please!" Mary paid, stone-faced, grabbed the bunch like a bouquet and marched out.

As she went through the streets, carrying the bouquet of brushes in her left hand like a small flag, she felt a winner. Nothing was too big for her. The wind was blowing her way and helping her go. She could cross a river and come out on the other side dry, clean, with a rosy hue on her cheeks!

Not discouraged by the fact that she could no longer afford a taxi ride home, she entered a tram through the first door and said "hello" to the driver. Then she sat, without noticing the people around her. At her stop, she went back up to the driver, handed him one brush and said: "thank you".

By the time she got home it was so late that it was almost early. Was it evening or morning? It wasn't dark. But it wasn't light either. No sign of the sun on the horizon. No stars. It was gray, dim, colorless... Suddenly, Mary longed for color. Any color! She had never felt like this before. She run inside her apartment, put the brushes in a glass of water and started opening drawers. There must be some color somewhere! She looked everywhere: nothing, nothing! Then she remembered. She found the key her neighbor Ruth had given her - Ruth had gone away for a couple of days and Mary agreed to feed her plants and water the cat. With the key she run across the hall. There! There it was, on the bottom of the big cabinet!

Mary dragged it back to her apartment. Opened the lid and looked at it thoughtfully for some time. Then she changed into a white dress, opened the window, with some difficulty overturned the bucket of blue paint, rushed outside and placed herself under the lantern.

Yes, Mary is somewhat childish and dreamy. But this is a true account of how my userpic came into being.