ADRIENNE'S HIV BLOG – Hivine's Weblog

HIVINE is written by HIV positive women but still with a sense of humour

Adrienne Seed – The Spider and the Fly – Chapter 3


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The Man in the Mist

 

T

hey say everyone has a guardian angel. Some have described theirs as an Indian spirit guide or an angelic presence ringed with light, but mine is a little Irish man called Walter Downs with brilliant blue eyes and wearing a white flat cap.

I believe in guardian angels and I also believe in fate.  Fate must have been playing its part all those years ago when it deigned to send Brian my way in order to unleash my artistic spirit and reprieve me from the mundanity of my everyday life in Blackburn, or at least, that’s how it seemed at the time. That fateful day in question was many years ago now and although I didn’t know it then, that first sighting of Brian was to change the course of my life forever, in more ways than one.

I was only nineteen at the time, just about to turn twenty in fact, so I was in my prime where my youth and beauty were concerned,  with my hopes and dreams still firmly intact and I was hell bent on becoming a famous artist. With that aim in mind, I’d been slaving away on a huge oil painting in my bedroom-come studio at my parent’s pub, named colloquially as “The Clog and Billycock”. But it was one of those typically gloomy North of England days and the lack of light had eventually forced me to abandon my efforts and down tools. Frustrated and full of painterly angst, I donned my wide brimmed purple felt hat, put on my long purple coat and went out for a walk. Lost in thought with no particular direction or destination in mind I wandered aimlessly through the fog, letting my boots take me where they wanted to go. Hoisting up my long purple coat, I clambered over the rustic style at the side of the road, then found myself slithering down the grassy hillside, skidding past the huddled groups of ghostly cows munching the soggy grass, the flop of their steaming lips the only sound in the cavernous silence that fog creates. In my long, purple coat and felt hat, I too must have resembled some strange kind of apparition had anyone happened to chance on me. But apart from the ghostly cows, there wasn’t another soul around to witness me and I was happy to let myself be swallowed up by the swirling mist, revelling in the mystery it was giving to my all too familiar surroundings.

I climbed over another style at the bottom of the hill and found myself quite by chance on the road where all the rich people lived and outside the gates to his house. Of course, I didn’t know it was ‘His’ house then, but I had heard of him. Everyone had. Millionaires were few and far between in that small, industrial northern town.

Lost in a world of my own, the sound of my boots echoing along the foggy tunnel of the road which appeared to have no end, I gradually became aware of another sound. A curious, muffled, throbbing noise, resonating from somewhere in the distance, which was gradually getting louder. Disturbed from my reveries, I peered through the mist from under the brim of my purple hat to see what appeared to be an apparition slowly looming towards me, which, as it drew ever closer, revealed itself to be the long, low bonnet of a silver car. I stopped dead in my tracks to watch as the phantom like car lazily nosed the fog to one side and magically approached me as though it was floating on a bank of mist. Mesmerised, I stood as still as a statue at the side of the road as it purred slowly to a halt at my feet.  Strangely enough, I didn’t feel at all frightened, although these days I suppose I would have been. I just stood there waiting patiently, curious to see what would happen next. I waited for what seemed like an eternity; then the black glass of the electric window slithered down and disappeared inside the car door, revealing a face I was never to forget.

We both stared at each other long and hard. Long enough to glimpse the dark, untouched places in each other’s souls and hard enough to engrain that memory in our separate hearts forever – and if that sounds a bit corny, I’m sorry but that’s how it was! Then a long, white finger reached over and pressed a button causing the black tinted window to shoot back up, chopping off our tortured gaze like a guillotine. The phantom car and its mysterious driver slid away and disappeared back into the fog, leaving me to wonder if it had all been a dream. So silent it had been.

It had been over a year before fate had brought us together again.

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6 Comments»

  Silvia wrote @

Hey Adrienne, you write beautifully, I am hooked! Can’t wait for the next chapter…
You are such an inspiration to share your life with the world. You are brave and generous wit yourself. I am so happy we met.

Love and Light

Silvia

  cathandlara wrote @

Adrienne,

You’re a natural story teller.

Courageous, witty, beautiful, complex, troubled, angst-ridden, heart warming and charming. You are all of these and more besides.

love, Cath x

  Arnulfo Mondelli wrote @

I REALLY liked your post and blog! It took me a minute bit to find your site…but I bookmarked it. Would you mind if I posted a link back to your post?

  Kristel Besares wrote @

Good! Thank you! I always wanted to write in my site something like that. Can I take part of your post to my blog?

  Kristel Besares wrote @

Awesome post. I so good to see someone taking the time to share this information

  Sigrid Tirpak wrote @

I REALLY liked your post and blog! It took me a minute bit to find your site…but I bookmarked it. Would you mind if I posted a link back to your post?


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