• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

Somebody else came by and joined us; a quarter of an hour later there were a whole bunch of us, twenty almost. And every now and then somebody new came along.

Organizing ourselves to give a good shout, all at the same time, wasn't easy. There was always someone who began before three or who went on too long, but in the end we were managing something fairly efficient. We agreed that the Te’ should be shouted low and long, the ‘re’ high and long, the ‘sa’ low and short. It sounded great. Just a squabble every now and then when someone was out.

We were beginning to get it right, when somebody, who, if his voice was anything to go by, must have had a very freckly face, asked: ‘But are you sure she's at home?’

‘No,’ I said.

‘That's bad,’ another said. ‘Forgotten your key, have you?’

‘Actually,’ I said, I have my key.’

‘So,’ they asked, ‘why don't you go on up?’

Oh, but I don't live here,’ I answered. I live on the other side of town.’

‘Well then, excuse my curiosity,’ the one with the freckly voice asked carefully, ‘but who does live here?’

I really wouldn't know,’ I said.

People were a bit upset about this.

‘So could you please explain,’ somebody with a very toothy voice asked, ‘why you are standing down here calling out Teresa?’

‘As far as I'm concerned,’ I said, ‘we can call another name, or try somewhere else. It's no big deal.’

The others were a bit annoyed.

I hope you weren't playing a trick on us?’ the freckly one asked suspiciously.

‘What?’ I said, resentfully, and I turned to the others for confirmation of my good faith. The others said nothing, indicating they hadn't picked up the insinuation.

There was a moment's embarrassment.

‘Look,’ someone said good-naturedly, ‘why don't we call Teresa one last time, then we'll go home.’

So we did it again. ‘One two three Teresa!’ but it didn't come out very well. Then people headed off home, some one way, some the other.

I'd already turned into the square, when I thought I heard a voice still calling: ‘Tee-reee-saP

Someone must have stayed on to shout. Someone stubborn.

The Flash

It happened one day, at a crossroads, in the middle of a crowd, people coming and going.

I stopped, blinked: I understood nothing. Nothing, nothing about anything: I didn't understand the reasons for things or for people, it was all senseless, absurd. And I started to laugh.

What I found strange at the time was that I'd never realized before. That up until then I had accepted everything: traffic lights, cars, posters, uniforms, monuments, things completely detached from any sense of the world, accepted them as if there were some necessity, some chain of cause and effect that bound them together.

Then the laugh died in my throat, I blushed, ashamed. I waved to get people's attention and ‘Stop a second!’ I shouted, ‘there's something wrong! Everything's wrong! We're doing the absurdest things! This can't be the right way! Where will it end?’

People stopped around me, sized me up, curious. I stood there in the middle of them, waving my arms, desperate to explain myself, to have them share the flash of insight that had suddenly enlightened me: and I said nothing. I said nothing because the moment I'd raised my arms and opened my mouth, my great revelation had been as it were swallowed up again and the words had come out any old how, on impulse.

‘So?’ people asked, ‘what do you mean? Everything's in its place. All is as it should be. Everything is a result of something else. Everything fits in with everything else. We can't see anything absurd or wrong!’

And I stood there, lost, because as I saw it now everything had fallen into place again and everything seemed natural, traffic lights, monuments, uniforms, towerblocks, tramlines, beggars, processions; yet this didn't calm me down, it tormented me.

I'm sorry,’ I answered. ‘Perhaps it was me that was wrong. It seemed that way. But everything's fine. I'm sorry,’ and I made off amid their angry glares.

Yet, even now, every time (often) that I find I don't understand