Shaken, but not Stirred

  • Posted by a hidden member.
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    Mar 12, 2008 8:31 PM GMT
    Hey guys
    I thought I'd let you take a break from your day and enjoy a nice short story I wrote a couple of weeks ago.
    It was a little after St. Valentine's day.

    If you're a James Bond fan, you're probably gonna like it. Well,here goes nothing:


    As he reflected on the distorted image of the lonely lemon peel at the bottom of the glass, sunk in a cold lake of Gordon's, vodka and Kina Lillet, the events of the day unfolded in his mind.

    He had gotten up at seven for no reason whatsoever. After all, his visit to the Interpol headquarters wasn't until the day after.
    Force of habit, maybe.

    After a small breakfast at the hotel, he set out to receive the rather cold welcome of the city of Lyons. He had spent his morning roaming around the "Parc de la TĂȘte d'Or"... All he could see was the happy faces of couples celebrating their love, their passion, and also the reflection of the dead trees in the lake.
    It was a cold day in February, and France still irradiated the warmth of youthful romance it was known for.

    As the martini glass emptied, and was substituted for a full one, our gentleman remembered his dinner at the bouchon: Tender escalopes de veau, crabe et jambon de campagne, accompanied by asparagus and mushrooms covered in a rich Madeira sauce. A glass of '53 Chateau Margaux, with its leathery aroma of flowers and berries, perfected the meal smoothly and with tenderness.
    Even the Sommelier himself was impressed with the gentleman's elegance and knowledge of fine wines.
    "Is anybody else joining you this evening, monsieur?"
    "No" he answered, in the dry, factual tone with which he answered every question.

    Now it was almost eleven o' clock, and this dreadful day was about to end.
    He had decided that this one would be his last martini of the night.
    When the gentleman finally stopped wandering in his own thoughts and returned to the present, he was able to appreciate the smooth sounds coming from the stage. It was an ecclectic, groovy mix of electronica, jazz and bossa nova, channeled through the bittersweet voice of a beautiful girl in a red dress. She shone and glittered in the dim lights as a Venus rising from an ocean of brass instruments and well-dressed musicians.
    She smiled at him as their eyes met. It looked as if she was singing only to him.

    "If you only knew", he though, and chuckled. He rose from his seat and headed to the restroom. Once there, he locked the door, loosened the black tie of his tuxedo, and splashed cold water on his face.
    He looked in the mirror. There he was.
    And all he could think of wasn't the park, or the veal, or the wine, or the agency, the gun in his trousers, or the girl on the stage.
    The only thing running through his mind was that dreadful date: February 14th.
    The day to celebrate his vanity, his seclusion, his impenetrable fortress, his erotic desire, his platinum walls.
    His loneliness.

    And he cursed love, for misleading him into a life of diamonds, champagne and lust. He cursed it for making him so damn good at his job.
    And he cursed himself for having so much to offer, but not having the capacity of letting anybody inside of him.
    Had he lost all his feelings? Was he as cold as his enemies perceived him?

    What was going to happen, when the martini glass emptied, and all there was inside was a lonely lemon peel, a garnish without a purpose?
    He stood there for a couple of minutes, fists clenched, looking down into the floor as the water in the sink ran freely.

    Our hero then wiped his face dry, and after a deep breath, went out the door, walked out of the bar, and looked for his Aston Martin. He knew tomorrow was going to be a busy day at the Interpol, and he couldn't dedicate any more time to thinking about things that had no relevance to his mission.

    Hope you guys enjoyed it. Feel free to comment on it

  • Posted by a hidden member.
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    Mar 12, 2008 9:41 PM GMT
    The song playing at the stage is "Bittersweet Faith" by Bitter:Sweet

    This is it:

    music player
    I made this music player at


    I know, I'm a dork icon_razz.gif
  • GeorgeNJ

    Posts: 216

    Mar 13, 2008 1:40 AM GMT
    Andres, you are a very very fine writer. I also saw your poem on Helios in another thread. Thanks for sharing these with us ... let us know when you start publishing. I promise I'll buy the book.

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    Mar 13, 2008 7:30 AM GMT
    Thanks man

    I've written tons of stuff, but I'm VERY shy when it comes to sharing it with people.
    You have no idea how hard it was to even post this one

    I'm trying to overcome that fear, so I thought of starting here. Why not, right?
  • dfrourke

    Posts: 1062

    Mar 13, 2008 7:37 AM GMT

    its a great start...I enjoyed it...and of course the music helps set the tone...

    - David
  • Posted by a hidden member.
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    Mar 13, 2008 12:40 PM GMT
    Ok... now I really am in love! ROFL icon_wink.gif

    Where's the rest?
  • Posted by a hidden member.
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    Mar 13, 2008 4:33 PM GMT

    This is a great short story! Thanks for sharing it, and for providing the music which definitely added a lot to it -- actually, I'd say the music was rather well-suited for it.
  • Posted by a hidden member.
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    Mar 13, 2008 4:37 PM GMT
    It's always tough to put something 'of yourself' out there so cheers for doing so. And yes - very cool having the semi-interactive element of the music to go with it!
  • Posted by a hidden member.
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    Mar 13, 2008 4:56 PM GMT
    Nice story, well done, and the music provides the perfect ambiance.
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    Mar 14, 2008 3:21 AM GMT
    Thank you so much guys!
    I'm glad you liked it.

    About the song, well, the reason that it goes so well with the story is because it inspired it.
    I actually wrote the rest of the story around the scene in the bar where the girl is singing to Bond.
    That's kind of what came to mind as I listened to the song for the first time.

    And as for the rest, well... I'm a HUGE Ian Fleming fan, and I was also pissed off and lonely on Valentine's day.

    Put all that together, and then shake it, but don't stir it

    Inspiration is a weird thing isn't it?
  • Posted by a hidden member.
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    Mar 14, 2008 8:10 AM GMT
    I once wrote a story in just 3 hours because it was raining outside my window when I woke up...

    and the title of the story was "Downpour"

    the muse is indeed one crazy lady. icon_lol.gif