From the Scarlet Blue Journals 25/10/2032
It is all very well to make promises, keeping them is altogether another matter. Somehow I have to remember who I am, where I am, and what I am supposed to be writing about. This might be easy for most people, but it isn’t for me.
During the long hot/cold/windy/rainy British summer/winter of 2007 I was involved in a dramatic incident that left me with a fatal head injury and a not unattractive limp. Since this incident I have been trying to piece together fragments of a cherished project that I had been working on prior to this life changing event.
Sometimes I am haunted by black and white images featuring bottles. Sometimes I feel a compulsive urge to address grey envelopes, with white calligraphy, to long lost strangers who lurk in the smutted crevices of my memory. Sometimes I have completely lucid moments when I can recall the names of characters who are relevant to the plot… such as Sebastian, Moonchild, Rupert Etherington-Smythe… and there is another indistinct character I see, a character who digs up a car park next to a scout hut in a place called Mogwash… yes, I remember — a German archaeologist called Mago. Lovely Mago! And he is searching for something! After reading a series of nonsensical ramblings on a disused WordPress blog he came to believe that a great fortune was buried within the vicinity of a small English village called Luddley-cum-Mogwash. I see him with a map which, after a scuffle and some energetic Morris dancing, was taken from him, confiscated before he was deported.
Oh what a fuss that old blog caused!
In my darkest hour I remember that it is I who is responsible for creating this pother; this tumult; this pandemonium. In my darkest hour I remember that it was I who created, and buried, the Bottle of Greed….
Miraculously my memory returned and with it my wayward identity. I could remember almost everything – that I was an artistic genius of unparalleled proportions; that I was from a tiny East Sussex village called Mogwash; and that my most recent artworks were visual representations of concealed emotional torment. Indeed, with my ‘Bottled Feelings’ I had revelled in the simultaneous expressions of concealment and revelation with a creative flair not witnessed in an individual since August 10th 1903. I also remembered that I was the highly intelligent, yet modest author, of the much loved ‘Wonky Words’ fiction blog that had garnered a cult following of Yahoo slurps, googlebots, and some important people in Washington… FBI bots…
Via my excellent website, wonky-words.com, I had left a series of ingenious clues that would lead my faithful readers to a bottle known as ‘Bottled Greed’, a bottle filled with a smorgasbord of treasured trinkets and priceless family heirlooms – probably hidden somewhere within the vicinity of Luddley-cum-Mogwash.
Frustrated that belief in ‘Bottled Greed’ was minimal, I puzzled over the problem of convincing my readership of my sincerity…
There was only one thing for it…. I’d dig the damn thing up myself…. buy a new car, some new boots…. the Estee Lauder Beauty counter…. invest in some art…. if only I could remember where I’d buried the damn thing….
….Scarlet Blue actually exists, but an understanding of her work leads one to believe that the possibility of ‘Bottled Greed’ existing is highly likely another of Blues’s fictions. It would not be the first time that Blue courted controversy during her dubious yet short lived career proving herself to be a duplicitous character.
In May 2007 she went missing and was believed to have drowned in a river close to her home in Luddley-cum-Mogwash; her weather-proof jacket, walking cane and one wellington boot were found on the river bank alongside a discarded Campari bottle. Foul play was originally suspected and a local man was arrested….
19 May 2007
. . . had left misleading, often completely meaningless clues via her website. These included visual clues, whereby bottles would be photographed in unusual places, the most daring of which was ‘Bottled Flight’, whereby a bottle containing three large eggs rests precariously within a bird’s nest, 60ft aloft. Other clues were encoded within quotations and in a fictional story about village life. It is still unknown as to whether ‘Bottled Greed’ actually exists, indeed some remain sceptical as to whether Scarlet Blue actually exists, but an understanding of her work leads one to believe that the possibility of ‘Bottled Greed’ existing is highly likely . . . .
18 January 2007