[Emp edit: OK I changed the name - feel free to edit this little note out ]
It's just an odd story.
I always cycle to my work. I have a car and a license but it's not far, and I like to ride in the open air before and after work. For some reason I can always make up the wildest stories and in between my work and home I've probably rescued humanity and saved the earth millions of times. I love the in-betweens. It's when you are travelling from one place to another and time is completely out of your control, because until you've reached your destination you can't really do anything anyway, except for either waiting impatiently and sitting out your time ... I chose the other way, and if I'm ever short on inspiration I take the bike, or the bus or the train and I travel and find that immense source of ideas ^^
Now I was riding the usual road from work to home, which brings me through the part of the city I grew up in and then past a little Virgin Mary chapel through a long lane of high trees to a busier road. I always smugly laugh at the drivers of cars, who are sitting in the sweltering heat like so many tunafish in a can, and waiting for the traffic light to go green ... I always imagine they must be so envious when they see me slip past them in a cool breeze... or in the great rain but I love rain ^^
Then I have to cross a big crossroad after which my road leads past a large office building on the other side of the road and an asylum on my side. This asylum is a large building, well-hidden in a lush green forest, but I know that it is there because I used to work in the office on the other side of the road and during lunch break we'd always wander through the forest around the asylum, sniffing some fresh air and watch ostriches.
It was very hot and damp with the promise of a thunderstorm in the air as I rode past the place. all of a sudden I saw a vision in black, a thin, tall woman who looked even thinner because she wore a long, tight, black dress. Beside that, she carried a black umbrella and the hand that held it was covered by a black glove. Her hair was long and it hung down her shoulders like a cascade of night while her face was a pale smear, mostly hidden from view by the umbrella.
I don't know how to explain this sudden feeling I got, but she was like a black widow, like a ghost, like death, and so extremely weird but beautiful that I nearly rode into a ditch because I sat backwards on my saddle, in the hope to catch as much from this appearance as I could before I was too far away to distinguish her from the surroundings.
She was probably one of the patients of the asylum, taking a walk, I think. But she was ... I don't know ... she almost looked as if she carried her own reality with her, in which the rest of the world was only a ghost. It was a brilliant moment! So that is my story and that is why I wrote it down.
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