I asked for a prompt

Posted in Original, Prose, Writing by netscheri on July 18, 2008

And was given this: “well today as i was running there was a man who was kinda creepy standing and waiting to cross with an umbrella and i imagined him throwing it and it puncturing me through my back and through my stomach…but thats all i got. sorry”

To which my response is: Monsieur Dupont awoke with the green neon words “double triple serial homicide” in his mind, the remnant of a dream. In the dream, he had been back on the streets of Paris, and strangely enough, walking a dog. It had all been rather bemusing. The dream, like many of Monsieur Dupont’s dreams, had a sense of the 2-dimensional to it. The colours of Paris at noon were washed out, as if the bleach that Monsieur Dupont made eight-hours-a-day five-days-a-week had been spilled on it. The dirt on the streets looked rather lackluster, as if Monsieur Dupont’s mind had struggled to reconstruct the particularities of Parisian trash. It was as his dream-self was on the verge of entering, along with dog, an umbrella shop that Monsieur Dupont’s radio alarm clock had sounded and he had woken with those emblazoned words.

After he had finished mixing, decanting and testing 126 bottles of bleach, Monsieur Dupont walked home. He thought that his left side looked…empty, wondered what was missing and then realised that he was thinking of that little dog in his dream. He felt overcome by a sudden fondness for that little dog he had owned in the streets of an imaginary Paris between the hours of six and seven in the morning. Buoyed by this combination of fondness, nostalgia and homesickness, he visited a passing umbrella shop, along with imaginary dog, – thus completely what his dream self had been unable to do – and exited with one large umbrella, black, serial number 11234.

And perhaps it was due to this continual residue from his dream that when Monsieur Dupont saw a lone jogger he thought “double triple serial homicide”.

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