Too Ra Loo Ra Loo

18 91
Avatar for JonicaBradley
3 years ago

Sometimes I like to write fiction. Some of you know I am working on a novel but I also have a lot of short stories and flash fiction inside me.

Over on Medium, my publication The Bad Influence we used to do something the founder and editor in chief called collabrative fiction.

The challenge was to use certain words in a story. He would offer up 5, 6, or 7 words that must be included in a story of any kind. Poetry, satire, fiction, personal essay, whatever kind of story.

I wrote Too Ra Loo as part of this collabrative fiction challenge, and I really love it.

There's a Portaguese word for how this story makes me feel. @CoquiCoin introduced me to this word in her piece A Bit More Than Nostalgia and Melancholy. The word is saudade.

I feel saudade when I read the following short story. As if it truly happened. It didn't. It is pure fiction. Read it and tell me what you think!

Too Ra Loo

“I don’t need your help,” she interrupted herself to say. She had been humming that song again.

We called her Our Lady of The Streets, but she was no ordinary bag lady. She had no shopping cart, no layers upon layers of clothes. One thing that marked her out was her yellow crown and the ghost of Chanel No 5 clinging to her soiled and no-longer-sequined evening gown. Maybe it was a tiara. Maybe it was a different perfume. It was a ghost and harder to pin down than the aura of quiet resignation following Our Lady of The Streets.

She had torn her gown from toe to thigh up the middle and wrapped the material around her legs. She kept her makeshift pants in place by shoving them into the tops of her mismatched rain boots.

It hadn’t rained in months.

One boot, the too-big boot, was scratched and faded purple with one of the pull-up straps still attached. The other boot looked to have once been white or light pink. It had unicorns patterned on it and I suspect this boot was too small. Someone long ago had drawn smiles in red Sharpie. What remained looked like fangs on the otherwise neutral expression of the dead-eyed unicorns.

I continued to hold out my hand to Our Lady of The Streets as she stepped over puddles of urine, old cans, and spent syringes with their needles crooked and dangerous. The purple boot threatened to flop off as her foot continued on its quest for safer ground.

She finally took my hand and allowed me to escort her to her throne. I don’t think she thought of this spot she had claimed as a throne, but we had been calling the chipped and tankless toilet The Throne long before Our Lady of The Streets appeared and made it hers. It was half-buried in the hard-packed, dry, and cracked dirt, tilting at a crazy angle.

She gingerly sat and, as always, I wondered what she saw when she would sadly smile and begin her day.

There she would sit, from sunup to sundown, her arms bundled with memories, rocking forth and back, softly humming that song.

Lead image: Photo by Kristin Brown on Unsplash

15
$ 8.66
$ 8.30 from @TheRandomRewarder
$ 0.05 from @gertu13
$ 0.05 from @CoquiCoin
+ 9
Sponsors of JonicaBradley
empty
empty
empty
Avatar for JonicaBradley
3 years ago

Comments

this is my first time coming across your articles but I have been seeing the name in some posts, I think I will be writing on some prompt but before them, I am a storyteller but when it comes to yours you are just amazing and I have to learn from the best, let me relax and learn from your style of writing, you are talented

$ 0.00
3 years ago

A great piece for sure. I reasoned that The Lady of the Street may whenever have been going to a fabulous ball, she lost her accomplice to another person. She had nobody to converse with, to spill out her bitterness from being abandoned and before long go to misery. She left the party still in her once delightful outfit. She continued to stroll down the roads with no objective.

$ 0.01
3 years ago

I like seeing how everyone else imagines her.

$ 0.00
3 years ago

I am indeed so lucky to find someone like you here in this platform. I didn't know you yet but I am quiet sure you are beyond great in telling stories and making it more realistic even you have said that it is definitely a fiction. I am so thrilled about how you put details on it, so gorgeously crafted. I want to be just like you are 'coz I'm an amateur when it comes to writing. I can't help myself but to say you're amazing!🤗😊

$ 0.01
3 years ago

Thank you. You're going to make me cry.

$ 0.00
3 years ago

I really look up to you on this platform. The way you tell your stories shows that you write with so much ease, and you could keep going on and on and on. I really have a lot to learn from you.

$ 0.01
3 years ago

Don't be fooled by the end result! The stories don't necessarily come easily. Often they drop, fully formed, into my brain, but I have difficulty putting the images in writing. Sometimes things come very easily and turn out wonderful.

$ 0.00
3 years ago

The lady of the streets would have saudade of her longings. It is a sad thing the life of the lords of the streets.

$ 0.01
3 years ago

It is. I've been there. Not for long, and not since long ago, but I've been there.

$ 0.00
3 years ago

So real. The description are so apt and make you actually visualize what it is you are reading. A awesome piece indeed. I concluded that Lady of the night is a mentally deranged woman (I might be wrong) but the description truly made her look like a queen.

$ 0.01
3 years ago

Our Lady of the Streets definitely has some mental issues. Also, maybe she's truly Cinderella after the ball. Only she never lost her gown and the prince never came for her. Who knows.

$ 0.00
3 years ago

"I wondered what she saw when she would sadly smile". Saudade of other places and other times.

I like the story, a bit bitter-sweet.

$ 0.01
3 years ago

Oh, good!

$ 0.00
3 years ago

The Lady of the Street might once have been attending a grand ball, she lost her partner to someone else. She had no one to talk to, to pour out her sadness from being left behind and soon turn to depression. She left the party still in her once beautiful gown. She kept on walking down the streets with no destination. She fall so deep in her depression. - Prelude to the story above. 😁

$ 0.01
3 years ago

But why does she hum an Irish Lullaby?

$ 0.00
3 years ago

Such a fashionable kind for a mentally ill person, I suddenly remembered that mentally ill person walking on the sidewalk naked. HAHAHA. Then they would take a bath at the park's fountain saying it was their shower.

$ 0.01
3 years ago

It's such a sad state of the world that we can't seem to properly care for our elderly and mental unstable people.

$ 0.00
3 years ago

Yeah, it is. Government ignores them here unless they cause harm to other people.

$ 0.00
3 years ago