Magical Realism

 

Today we talked about Magical Realism in my lit class. 

Bulgakov and all that lot. I’m still not quite sure what the whole thing is about.

I tried to ask the cat on the bus. He just shook his head and said is studying physics not philosophy. Figures. We talked about Superfluid Space-Time for a while but then he needed to get off on Shooter Hill to get to his yoga class on time. They were doing downward-facing dog tonight. He said it helps him with his back-pains. 

A large wave of salt crashed into the bus two stops before I got home and shattered into a flock of butterflies with tiny cement wings. I had to walk the rest of the way on foot because the driver started arguing with one of the newly-born butterflies about insurance money. The argument lasted a very long time. 

My girlfriend made us tuna sandwiches for dinner but the volcano erupted in the kitchen again and burned them to crisps. We ordered Chinese food from the place on Nelson Road - crisp fried duck with orange sauce and stir-fried sea food that has certainly seen better days - and ate it on the still smouldering chairs. They tended to change colour after every eruption. 

That night my face in the mirror melted into the sink again. I tried to scoop it up but its slimy wet texture slipped between my fingertips and finally got lost down the drain. It seemed to wave back at me as it disappeared in the dark. 

I walked back to bed with slumped shoulders, waking my girlfriend as I climbed into the cold watery bed. She lifted her head to look at the blankness of me and said, ‘Oh, honey! Did you lose your face again?’

I nodded numbly with the weight of the world settling upon my shoulders. 

‘Well, you ought to be more careful with it. It’s the fourth one this week.’ Having stated that she rolled over and slept. The waves rushed to cover her face with sand.

I took a place next to her and lay awake for hours.All the while the only thing on my mind was, that for the life of me, I did not understand what the fuck magical realism was supposed to be about. 

Short Story, March 2020