Fool's Paradize...

By Byam Jinx Oxymoron

A series of words born out of a couple of heartfelt off-the-cuff poems, rescued from oblivion one chilly new moon night. Unreachable heart of a lovely muse, ephemeral turned immortal.
Inspiration drunk with melancholy, invasive memories, the protagonist is losing herself between dream and reality... when the one haunting her dreams, one night, knocked on the door.

First quote from Fool's Paradize...:
"I don't know how to approach this story or what to think of it.
A story that did not come into being on a summer's day.
A story that did come to an end on a winter's day."

Second quote from Fool's Paradize...:
"My thoughts are miles away.
A flight-of-fancy miles-away.
A miles-away in her compagny.
A miles-away were an "us" is possible."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Byam Jinx Oxymoron
• Release date: Jan 10, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311759740

Byam Jinx Oxymoron

[Fr]Je suis tombée amoureuse de la langue de Baudelaire à mes 16 ans, et depuis quelques années, ma plume lui fait des infidélités éhontées avec celle de Byron. Mes Suites de mots épousent souvent la forme d'un poème ou d'une nouvelle, quand elles ne flirtent pas avec les deux à la fois.¤[En]I fell in love with French, my Mother-tongue, at age 16 and for a few years now, my pen has been committing brazen infidelities to her with English, my "Heart-tongue". My Series of words often hug the shape of a poem or of a short story, when they're not flirting with both at once.

Book preview

Fool’s Paradize...

By Byam Jinx Oxymoron

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2015 Byam Jinx Oxymoron

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Contents

Dedication

Epigraph

Acknowledgement

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Epilogue

About the author

Stay connected with the author

To you, so frightened by my love...

"Life is a slumber, of which love is the dream

And you would have seen life if you have loved."

Alfred de Musset

Acknowledgement

I would like to personally thank my friends and family members (you know who you are) for their help and support to creating this book, and most especially the following individuals: A. C. who unknowingly triggered all of this with that poem inspired by the song Better Than Me by Hinder; Gail, a friend from across the ocean who doesn’t even realize how much this friendship played a role in my endeavor to translate this short-story in the first place; and most especially my grandmother for her never-ending support and this little something she keeps telling me over and over again whenever I’m disheartened: Keep trying and fulfill your dreams.

*****

I’m in my living room, sitting on the sofa, legs stretched out before me resting on the coffee table. Notepad. Pen. I’m writing. Handwriting – swift and askew. Letters – atrophic and elongated. Despair of a woman who throws herself into writing to get away. Words thrown on paper to exteriorize. My edginess is palpable.

I complete my sentence and spin the pen around my fingers.

Umpteenth reread of this beginning of text.

Sigh of frustration.

Lousy!

It’s lousy!

It’s completely lousy!

I rip the scribbled sheet out, crumple it and angrily throw it against the opposite wall. One more!

I watch the rolled-up piece of paper piling up in a heap besides the bookcase.

I can’t even line up two decent sentences!

I pause a moment, close my eyes and try to calm down – deep inspiration.

There’s no pushing it, I won’t accomplish a thing tonight. Tonight yet again. Tonight, as every preceding night. Umpteenth attempt. Why keeping on writing this story when nothing decent is flowing out of my pen, the answer is always the same: I need this.

Smile of bitterness.

I need this to move on and turn over a new leaf. Yet, it occurs to me that I’ve never spent so much time to turn over one fricking new leaf. I could almost find the humor in this.

I try and focus on my breathing.

Thinking about something else. No more thinking about her. No more thinking about that day. That one and only day with her – fists tight against my forehead – focusing. Keeping this frustration in check. Not