I (sometimes) call myself Mr. Pondersome. I'm a rather wordy, weirdy person. I say hullo a lot. I write a lot more. While you're here, why not give some of it a read?

Saturday, 27 June 2015

VOIX EN CHAMBRE (a.k.a. Happy Flash Fiction Day Everyone!!! Part 1)

I lost my voice in a Parisian hotel room.

            I put it in a tape recorder, sealed in by the stop button. I played it back only once. It sounded all squeaky so I hid it in a cupboard.

            The following morning I packed in silence, checked out and ran for the airport. I was midway over the Channel when I noticed what was missing.

            It was an old tape recorder so I don't miss it. However when the stewardess came over to offer me a beverage, I couldn't speak. I couldn't even squeak. Fortunately I knew a few basic signs and she knew them too. I ordered a glass of lemonade.

            I could speak again when we landed though every word sounded unnecessarily French. People thought I was a snob. I am a snob but not in a particularly Parisian way.

            I told a taxi driver allons-y and went home. I thought long and hard about my little bit of voice still in Paris, imagined the turn down service baffled and the concierge only mildly amused. What a trinket; except for the accent, not at all Anglais.

           And yet I can't remember this very simple sentence. For the life in me, I can't recall what it was I said.

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