Jo and Calista

This is a story about a little boy named Jo and a little girl named Calista. Jo was a tiny little fella, with wavy brown hair, fair skin and blue-blue eyes. Calista was a cliche. Jo was filled with fire. The basic bare fire of life ran through his arteries and returned colder, but still hot through his veins. Calista was not filled with fire, she was just a little girl :).

I know what you're thinking about this story; there's a little boy, there's a little girl, so there must be a little couple and big love.. that's where this story's headed. But you'd be wrong. You see, Calista was a cliche, but Jo was not. One part cliche and one part fire make quite an interesting recipe, so pay attention.

Jo first met Calista at a birthday party. It was a mutual friend's birthday party. But you see they were little people, and when little people have friends, they're little friendships.. which is not to say that little friendships don't mean much; a little friendship in a little world is still relatively big. Jo looked into Calista's eyes and saw a twinkle. He looked at her smile and thought that he'd never seen something so beautiful. Jo had a bad memory (and he was a little little boy who couldn't see over large walls). Some of the fire from Jo's eyes got in his line of sight and he thought to himself, "Wow! Look at that fire". Calista looked in Jo's eyes and saw a pupil, a few veins and BLUE-BLUE.

This is now the cliche part of the story. If I told you the interesting part first, then you wouldn't read the whole story, and it's important that you do, cos interesting things are interesting only because there are so many cliches around.

Would I call it love? Of course not! These were not bodies and minds and hearts capable of love! They were too little to hold anything big, but also too little to hold anything bad. Here's the cliche: little Jo clutched desperately at the now retreating figure of little Calista's back. The one-sided-not-quite-love-cliche. That's the cliche with which I will contrast the interesting part of this story.

Jo clutched and clutched, but nothing happened. Now he felt cold you see, cos he had a fire, strong and bright that now bent to this other perceived flame. His flame was now part of a pair, and needed the other to function. It didn't matter that the other flame didn't lean his way, just the existence of this second flame made his own flame so much colder.. until he felt that without the second, his flame was fake: no more than strips of paper fluttering in the wind.

A sequel by Maria Thomas