"'Truth is strange," you know, "stranger than fiction' - besides being more to the point" - Edgar Allan Poe

July 30, 2005

Never been kissed

Her name was Anne, a nice ordinary name that'd bring a smile upon your face if you heard it. The fact that she was French just added to that mysterious glint in her eyes, and you could imagine her walking, maybe skipping down the cobblestone road in an alley that seemed to have too many butterflies. And we'd assume she was happy, and that her accent and soft pink lips were her greatest assets.

Yet she was sad. And no one knew why.

So one day she decided that eternal rest would end her misery, and like many before her (and many to come) she reached the bridge overlooking the Seine river. And looked down into the blue water, holding her breath in fear of what was to come. And in her mind, the question flashed, "Why do you want to die?" It seemed to be in an unknown voice, yet a voice she'd known all along. And she said, to the voice in her mind, "Because I've never known love, and it is a sin to live a life of hope, with no hope at all. Oh, to feel the lips of one that'd breathe life into one's body, to hold close my lover and never let go... that is why i must die, because I've never lived before."

And the voice in her mind replied in anger, "Child, you diasappoint me. You were only human, to give up. But you gave up too soon. Thus you will be granted your wish, and that boon will be a terrible curse indeed. You will be loved without love, and you will live without life." And the voice faded away, and Anne wondered if she had even heard it at all. She waited an instant longer and jumped into the river, and soon let out her breath, and died as many would in the same river.


And when her body was fished out, a cast was made of her face, and people were asked if they knew who she was and why she died. And everyone who saw the face were left feeling confused. It was the curve of her face, the weakened smile, and an inexplicable attraction towards this unknown woman that left them lightheaded. And the poets would write poems about her, the artists would conjure up images, and people would talk about the girl everyone knew, but no one knew at all. "Her name is Anne", they'd say as if she still lived amongst them, "and she's the stuff dreams are made of."

And then people learnt that one could revive a dead person by sharing air. That a person who's feared dead could be resuscitated by locking lips, and waking up the heart. And one realized that this must be taught to the world, and countless lives would be saved. And when a model was cast to practice on, the face was that... of Anne's. And CPR was born.

And now she's kissed by millions; and never kissed at all. And she gives the hope of life to millions; without ever having seen true life at all.

Hey, guess we were wrong about the accent.

(A true story)