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
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