Lies

Case

The Applicant is a single woman in her 30’s. A reasonably successful writer of books and collection of poems. Well educated, and fluent in speaking both English and Chinese languages. A winner of numerous awards for her writing. She comes from an unusual mixed cultural and social background and has further enhanced those cultural experiences with travel and living in diverse countries and social environments for a woman of such a tender age.

The combination of her growing up and travel experiences have enriched her writing. She gained her doctrine in English and Chinese Literature. It was during the traveling years; she realized her calling – teaching. In her purposeful mind, it was a perfect fit. She was very passionate about life, full of energy in all her endeavours. Although well-read and had an enquiring mind, once her attitudes and opinions formed, they also formed with a steely purpose. It was natural that her evangelical tendencies created her root passions for teaching. Awakening young sleeping minds was the reason she got out of bed each day. To pump words not blood into those innocent young hearts, and to impassion the novice minds of her listening students. She often thought assuredly to herself, there is nothing better; to immerse these unsowed fields of minds in literature that inspire creative thought and melt the hardest of hearts with words that have transcended time.

The Respondent is also unmarried, in his late 40’s. Natural good looks, with a confident manner, that goes unnoticed in parties larger than two. Only in the intimate company of two, where the other party is of the feminine gender, does the spark of a flirtatious and playful nature appear. The mesmerizing allure uncoils from thin air and like a magician’s sleight of hand, encircles, and coils, to ensnare the innocent heart of his next female victim. He was not educated, nor travelled, he had no interest in either, his sole purpose in life was to capture the hearts and minds of women. Completely immoral, he would tell them the most arduous lies, just to get them into bed, and in between their legs.

They met at a book signing event, and the attraction was immediate from the applicant. For the respondent, he had found his next prey. What normal woman does not lower her guard with the attention of a good looking and charming stranger.

The summer months were of dreamlike quality for the applicant. The respondent moved into her apartment, plans for the rest of their lives were being made, yet spun, woven even from the delicious visions made of the sweet morning dew, and dandelion seeds carried on an ambivalent wind.

By the end of the summer, the short time affair was over. The applicant was heartbroken, her dreams scattered like those dandelions’ seeds on the wind, as the first chilly winds of late summer blew them completely away. They were replaced by the harsh darker autumnal tones of reality. Instead, lies, deceit, and unfaithfulness, these trio of unwelcome visitors appeared like the early morning mists, harbingers of the winter cold, hidden debt collectors of unfulfilled sweet summer dreams.

Symptoms (Applicant)

Heartbroken – bitter disappointment, yet sweet memories as she looked down at the shattered pieces of her perceived perfect existence. The shadows of deep dark depression lengthened, full of aching, longing caused by those bittersweet memories.

It was days like this, that the bittersweet memories became more pronounced. The long carefree summer days were distant, details fading like discarded photographs left and forgotten, to perish and fade in the bright radiant sunlight.

How could a summer full of promises turn so swiftly into disappointment? The curtain had been raised on the deceit, the subterfuge. With the truth came the bitterness. She still wanted to be shrouded in sweet ignorance, but now her life had been turned inside out. She loved her profession, it was the spark plug, the focal point in her life, the feelgood factor that turned the engine on, every waking morning. Nowadays, it felt like a heavy burden, a chore, counting down the hours until the end of the day, the repose of that school bell ringing. The insufferable brats, the children in her class, would disappear from the classroom, their space and absence were a relief. Whereas before she felt these angels were her calling, it was her destiny to teach, to inspire, to awaken a new sleeping Keats or Dickens.

After the summer happiness, now her life had no meaning, no purpose. Life, nowadays, was a repetitive experience, sleeping, eating and then to suffer those unruly children, only sent to school to appease education governance, and parents who wanted some peace and independent time to themselves.

She began to think and feel regret about the summer experience. Too much sweetness and light, too many emotional heights; it was always going to be a forerunner to a fall. She had exposed herself, been too open-hearted, too trusting with sharing her emotions. She wore her heart on a sleeve. The experience had tested her normal comfortable life, which she felt was full and accomplished. Now after the bittersweet summer she felt agitated, unfulfilled, empty, deceived and cheated by life, and hungry for the return of sweet bliss, her previous state of mindful ignorance prior to the events of the summer.

Would she expose herself to the same sweet experience again, do it all over again? Knowing in the end the same result, these were the thoughts and regrets that now consumed her. The shadows darkened every day, getting out of bed each day was an enduring struggle. Would a new bright, future summer, full of optimism return? Only the brave and foolhardy will give a knowing smile or wink of reassurance and say: you can’t have the sweet without the bitter in life. But she was hurting, numb with the entire life experience. She wanted neither.

The respondent called. He wanted to collect his belongings. The applicant offered with kindness one last dinner together in her apartment. She would prepare his favourite meal – steak dinner.

Remedy

She placed the two plates of hot food on the table. The respondent’s piece of steak had simply brushed the cooking pan, it was now swimming in watery blood, a good vet could have put it back on its feet.

The respondent was silent and looked down at his meal. There was nothing to say, just eat and leave.

Before sitting down at right angles to the respondent to commence the final meal together, the final act of connection, a silent vigil, the applicant moved to the turntable apparatus at the side of the room.

She placed the shiny black vinyl record on the turntable, like an art dealer would place a valuable fragile object d’art in front of a potential buyer. With equal care, like a surgeon making an incision with a tiny scalpel, she carefully placed the stylus at the very edge of the plastic vinyl record, the sudden hiss of the loudspeakers startled the silence, as the stylus connected to the minuscule grove on the edge of the spinning vinyl record. The commencement of a spiral maneuver taking the stylus along a dark groove on an inevitable journey to its final destiny.

She sat down, and both picked up their knife and fork to start eating.

The sound of Christine McVie’s voice suddenly blasted into the solemn room with a revibrating sound.

If I could turn the page in time then I would rearrange just a day or two, close my, close my, close my eyes

As the respondent concentrated on masticating the raw meat, his first mouthful, the applicant instead of cutting into her own steak, turned the handle of the knife in her left head, clasping it in clenched fist she swiftly raised the knife and plunged the blade of the knife into the undefended right side of the respondent’s neck.

But I couldn’t find a way So I will settle for one day to believe in you Tell me, tell me, tell me lies

The look of shock and misbelief from the respondent was a frame from a cartoon scene.

Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies, tell me lies, tell me, tell me lies

Then with equal swiftness the eyes faded, as the life spirit left his body.

Oh no-no, you can’t disguise You can’t disguise No you can’t disguise

The applicant released her grip of the steak knife, the blade of the knife remained still lodged into the jugular vein of the respondent’s neck. Only the handle was visible.

Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies

The blood erupted like a gushing fountain of bright crimson blood, creating a huge dark forbidding luminous red puddle on the floor. She must clear up the mess, an idiotic thought entered her crumbling mind.

Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies, tell me lies, tell me, tell me lies

Those lies, from that tongue which had oozed out those sweet trickle of deceitful words – all lies, had been extinguished. Prevented from preying on any further vulnerable females, no more broken hearts of the innocent and naive. If I can’t have this man, then no one else will either, the applicant thought with a wide smile of sardonic satisfaction, a weird, demented solace. Like the stylus moving along the vinyl record groove her mind was being taken to a destiny, it was losing control, darkness was closing around her rational thoughts, but it was unlike the end of the music recording, her mind was spiraling to the worst destination imaginable.

Her broken mind was now joining her broken heart.