The man of a thousand stories

09Nov07

The man of a thousand stories had dissapeared from the face of the planet again for a while. Why, he wasn’t sure anymore. Maybe to resource he’s energies spend on too many nights awake, thinking of stories he could tell the Amazon girl, maybe because the beer almost took power of him at night (During the daytime he this Super hero had a boring office job just like any other super hero). His amnesia was sometimes useful but today it felt like he was missing something. Or not really something. Someone, and he could bet his life on it that it was the Amazon girl he was missing. For reasons incomprehensible for normal people he was not persé missing her physical touch. He was just missing her presence. Not more or less then that. He just wished she was around to battle the storm that was torturing the old buildings of his home town, to read a book with. The kind of book you read on cold and rainy nights. Next to a wood fire wood be too much cliché but he wouldn’t mind beside the fact that his apartment didn’t have a fireplace. Having a wood fire in his apartment would not lead to a relaxed evening but with an evening full of smoke, alarm bells and cops dropping in to answer complaints of the neighbours yet again. So no wood fire, cliché or not. The man of a thousand stories was back home but it didn’t feel like it. He was longing for the battles he fought with the Amazon woman, the way they conquered the world from the bedroom and solved all the problems in the world with just a simple blink of an eye, a gentle smile or a well placed touch.

The storm was ragging over the solid concrete building he lived in. He preferred concrete over wood to live in. Wood buildings were merely sheds even though in some parts in the world they were able to build big villa’s out of that natural material. They all still fell like the camps he used to build in the woods when he was still young. The times before he became the man of a thousand stories.
The wind blew past his window and little shivers worked their way up through his bones. The tickling of the icy rain on the single isolated windows gave him the creeps and with his new desk setup he was sitting too close to the noise to really focus on the writing. Thunder stroke and he could see the lighting come down. A bit too close for his own comfort. More ice rain was torturing the windows and the repetitive beating on the wind, the little wind blowing through the cracks of the window and the lightning effects of the train passing by and the lightning were of both divine beauty and harmony as of insinuation of a horror story ready to happen. It was late at night and the storm was not going to calm down for another couple of hours and the Amazon girl was not likely to show up at this time of the night. His time had come to find his bed and warm himself up, crawling underneath the bedsheets and let his little internal combusion engine do all the work. It was time to loose himself in dreams and live some untold stories by himself….

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