Kandelaarsstraat

Author: bellmusker
Word Count: 500
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Kandelaarsstraat

This is a reworking of ‘street of the candlesticks’, edited down to 500 words for a RB group.

As soon as I heard the theme ‘The City’ I knew I had to write of my beloved Brussels. I lived in the Sablon, the medieval artists’ quarter of tiny crooked lanes and crumbling gargoyles. My house held five storeys lilting into the Flemish sky; my room had blood red walls and huge ivory windows that looked out over the cobblestones.

I would sit there day after day with a pen in my hand, and stories were always delivered to my windowsill.

People never look up.

They really should.

Flemish
Kandelaarsstraat – candlestick street
Wat doe je daar, schramoelenbak? – What are you doing, trash bag?
maa crotje – my honey bee
mijn schattebolleke – my little ball of darling

Kandelaarsstraat belongs to the following groups:

BEAUTIFUL BELGIUM (Belgie, Belgique), Blue Room, RedBubble The City, Short stories - Spherical Scriptings, The Sensual Word, Travel and Adventure and WMG

Autumn
I’ve started to count the men pissing outside my window; he’s #18. Neither he nor the previous seventeen have any shame, unzipping with the drunkard’s sway. I know the call of cloudy Belgian beer well, but the stench outside my window brings out the scowl in me and I practice my Flemish with a harsh bark that sounds utterly at home in the language: wat doe je daar, schramoelenbak? He looks over his denim into the darkness, grins up at my silhouette, and shrugs as he blames the beer. I push my thick amber bottle of Duvel back into the shadows of my windowsill.

Winter
The alley cats all charm me, but I have a special place in my heart for Little Black Creature. He is young and wary, whiskers unmarred and ebony fur still lush. I throw down globes of goat’s cheese and butter from my window, and laugh when he creeps away with golden smears on his nose. I worry where he sleeps when snow piles up on the cobblestones, and each time I see his little lion’s nose peer around the alley, I sigh my relief. I croon endearments in the tongue I’m slowly acquiring…..maa crotje, mijn schattebolleke ….and try not to register the ache in my throat that I’m uttering them to a cat. But in this city I now call home, no-one has ever said my nickname.

Spring
Her moans wake me and I know not to turn on the light. He has her pressed up against the bricks, his thigh between hers, a hand on the back of her head. No-one ever thinks to look up at the windows. He pushes into her and her hips grind back in a circular motion so slow I draw in my breath. It’s 3am and there’s no moonlight, but I can hear the hunger in her moans. He twists a handful of her dark hair around his fist and pulls, hard, and I can hear his demand float up to me: ouvre ta bouche …..open your mouth. His words, their sultry arrogance and smoky tones, make me ache. I can’t look away, but in truth, I don’t even try.

Summer
The thunder jolts me awake and for a moment, I can’t recall which country I’m in. Then lightning sends pale flashes across the blood red walls and I know I’m in the street of the candlesticks, in a five hundred year old house with rotting precarious stairs and a cellar so sinister I keep its doors wedged shut with a broomstick to lock its Hieronymus Bosch demons within. I clear away the empty bottles of black cherry beer and notebooks from the windowsill and open my window to the night. I can taste the storm in the cool air that rushes in over the medieval rooftops of Brussels.
I breathe in deeply, and almost feel at home. I sit, and let the rain splash against my hands.

dirtman

I’m jealous! It sounds so strange and magical. I like how you’ve revealed how cities are about the interplay between the spirit of place and the events that go on in it. Very nice work.
bellmusker replied

Brussels is indeed strange and magical….just look at medieval Flemish paintings!

Thanks for your kind words. This story was drawn out of me by the need for connection between inhabitants of a city; one of the hardest parts of moving to a new place, even for a solitary wench like me! Thanks again, dirtman :-)
MissKristy

Oh how I love Flemish..I don’t speak a word of it but my ex did and I could have listened to him for hours…days….years even.
This piece is just so YOU, how could anyone not love it. This format really works for you too.

Delicious.
bellmusker replied

Thanks lovely girl…..next time we meet I will croon these endearments into your ear X X
Matthew Dalton

Fabulous Bell.

I get this impression; because you’re a visitor your dinking it all in – and it’s almost too much. The aching and moaning is somehow your own. Your own desire to be consumed is inverted in the alley below.

That sounds more like a book review than praise. It’s meant to be praise.
bellmusker replied

And it’s taken as praise, believe me, Matthew! I had to reread your comments a few times….you canny thing.

Brussels is sometimes overwhelming for me; I love it so passionately I almost want to rip its heart out. My mother once told me “I loved you so much when you were born that I just wanted to squeeze you so hard your bones would shatter”, and I understand perfectly when I think of my perch in the street of the candlesticks.
mychaelalchemy

the descriptions and details for which you tell these vignettes are fabulous…each could be a whole chapter but you managed to size them down magnificently without losing the flavor of it and the sentiment borne from it…wish I could write this prosaically…exquisite….tastes to savor…
bellmusker replied

Ah, the most difficult part was keeping to a word limit – I feel I could write for hundreds of pages of my love for that city. So thank you for saying I hadn’t lost the flavour; means a lot to me!
PJ Ryan

A must have for “The City” ... what a truly beautiful and enthralling piece .. with your true sensual and succinct essence xx
bellmusker replied

A must have for “The City”
Nic, that’d be ‘Runaway’....I love your piece for the group! x x
Didge

Awesome!!!
I love your writing
bellmusker replied

Thanks for that!The more people I get thinking about Brussels, the better, hehe.
TheWanderingBoo

you have woven such a beautiful tapestry of life by just observing the world through your window…lovely piece of writing (as always) :¬)
bellmusker replied

Thank you! And what a glorious world it was too…...I’ll be back there in a few short weeks, and that thought has already brought a few tears of joy.
anya

Hey there Bell. I read this unedited a month or so ago and was transported back to Europe where I lived – the clunky language forming on your tongue like burrs, the helpless animal life you just want to rescue, the stench of piss. But I get the sense you were never inside it truly and this piece communicates that. Like you desire to be part of it, but the language, the strangeness, the cobblestone streets which are so different to Australia, all seek to exclude you. And I get the sense you wrestle with yourself over that – wanting the acceptance, but not wanting it at the same time.

Love your work.
bellmusker replied

I know, many on my watchlist made comments on the original version, so I didn’t expect much action here. But your words about Europe were perfect invocations, and transported me back there -works both ways!

I didn’t quite realise this gives the impression I wasn’t inside it fully – that wasn’t my intention. But you’re right, now I step back, it does read that way.

I adore Brussels with a passion that startles me, and truly thought I’d spend the rest of my life there…..but sitting above the cobblestones with my toxic Belgian beer, writing everything down, I missed Melbourne more than I ever thought possible.

That’s the wrestling with myself that you see in my words…I wanted so badly to feel at home there, and now that I’m back in Melbourne, I want so badly to feel at home here.

And I don’t actually think either will happen.

Thanks so much for your comments and analysis; they’ve made me look at this piece in a new light, and I appreciate that.
markgb

Great work Bell, I do recall the original. I feel as if I were there! (but not pissing) : )
~~But in this city I now call home, no-one has yet to say my nickname.~~ I love that line.
bellmusker replied

But in this city I now call home, no-one has yet to say my nickname. I love that line.

Cheers Mark! That’s the point when you know you’ve made a connection in a new place; when someone cares about you enough to know and use your nickname. It did eventually come, but it took a damn long time…
roybarry

lightning sends pale flashes across the blood red walls and I know I’m in the street of the candlesticks

Bell. Once again, you’re proving to be right at the top of your game.

Scintillating work.x
bellmusker replied

Thank you, lovely Roy. When I’m thinking about my second home, the words seem to write themselves! x x
roybarry

Bell, they may suggest themselves.They need a wordsmith to present them, in delicious harmony.
Sean Watson

absolutely divine. if the impressionists were writers, you would be monet’s reincarnation.
bellmusker replied

Thanks Sean! It seems somewhat disloyal to paint words like an Impressionist instead of a Fleming, but your comment made me smile a mile wide. Cheers!
Holly Ringland

bell, reading this re-worked version is like going back for seconds, but being startled and delighted that it’s just as tasty and delicious as the first mouthful. i ache when i read this, longing to belong.
bellmusker replied

Thanks, beautiful girl…..your comments always mean so much to me x
mstrace

Every time I read what you’ve written about brussels, its makes me want to grab my passport and get my ass to the airport and just go there. Its like I can see it and hear it and smell it. I think even, if I close my eyes, I could feel the coolness of the walls inside your blood red candlestick house. Your words are always evocative and sensual yet filled with such longing. That this ended with you sitting there feeling the against your hands makes me feel as if you awakened a bit more in brussels…and have been waking even more so since…

XOXOXOXO and on and on
berndt2

Brilliantly evocative!
Jared D White

Absolutely stunning piece of work!
Leith O'Malley

Damn you can write girl!
The Bellmusker has ink in her veins..
adgray

Oh to write like you!
I have a long way to go!
I loved how the observer is not observed, how the language is a barrier you must hurdle and yet the comfort of a speechless stray cat can make you feel welcomed.
I must read more!
Thank you! ♥
bellmusker replied

I’m so sorry I missed this comment! Thank you, I appreciate it greatly. Though I loved the language barrier, being a linguist by trade, it did impede contact and with that, intimacy. Thank god for Little Black Creature, hey? :-) Thanks again!
bellmusker replied

PS like the new avatar!
Melinda Kerr

The street of candlesticks? How wonderfully apt. I picture you there as a small flame, swaying in the barely discernable breeze. Gasping for air, retreating from darkness and dancing a tiny, careful dance. All the time clinging grimly to it’s wick, as it’s wax pedestal glides gently to earth. Bravo.
bellmusker replied

Mel, you’re a writer too! Such a beautiful comment to leave, it had me sitting here taking a deep breath of delight. I know, isn’t it gorgeous, the street of the candlestick: Rue des Chandeliers in French, Kandelaarsstraat in Flemish. Perfect.

I picture you there…...retreating from darkness and dancing a tiny, careful dance
Then you see me so clearly, for this is exactly why I moved to Brussels, and exactly what I did there. Thank you…a comment from you on my writing has brightened my day! Hope all is well in your world x
Melinda Kerr

If I observed you correctly it’s only because the pictures you painted were so precise :)
adgray

Oh Bell! You noticed my avatar change! ☼
You are the only one who has commented on it!
Mind you I snuck it in under the smoke screen of uploading my other art! Everyone was so stunned by those pictures that they didn’t see me blush in colour! lol
Thank you for noticing & liking!
Chookas! X♥X
[but B&W or colour I still will never write as well as you!]
MrJoop

“schramoelenbak” What a great word! I’m reading this at 12:45 a.m.. So too late to go and read your other work. I checked out your profile and was surprised to read that you’re in Melbourne. (Should have read the text on the right first!!) You’ve changed my perception of Brussels. To me a vague location made up of gothic buildings.
When I think of Belgium, I think of my mother doing her housework, back in Gouda (in the late forties, early fifties singing (Galmend): Boven Gent rijst, eenzaam en grijs, ‘t Oud Belfort, zinbeeld van ‘t verleden; Somber en groots, steeds stom en doods, etc..
By now it’s 1 a.m.. I hope not to dream of a little girl, sitting against a wall, with a candle.
Having migrated as a boy of 12, I appreciate the legacy of all that history and culture that’s there and the space and the warmth and the freedom that’s here (Sydney, Australia).
Appreciate the reference to Hieronymus Bosch.
bellmusker replied

Isn’t it such a fabulous word?! I’m very partial to schattebolleke too – there’s a very special man who used to call me that, and it still makes me smile :-)

I’m totally in love with Belgium, particularly Brussels. I’ve lived there twice, and know I will again….it’s a glorious, dark, richly beautiful place full of people with a fighting spirit. I’m a linguist, so the mix of languages there just about spellbinds me – sitting in a brown cafe with a Duvel, listening to the Bruxellois chatter, is pure magic. It’s definitely an underrated city!

As for the language…..zo mooi!! Such a purring, beautiful, seductive language. No wonder I loved Brussels…..

Thanks for your comment, good to have you stop by :-)
MrJoop

When SBS Radio Dutch Program was a baby, here in Sydney, I was partnered up with Gabriel Moens, to present some of the one-hour programs. Gabriel, ( a professor international law, Sydney University), was (is) Belgian. Bravely I attended a get-together of ex-Belgians, here, in Sydney, with my tape-recorder, expecting that I’d have no problem understanding the Flemish conversation. Wrong!! Luckily the written language is the same.
JayTeeAre

Fantastic piece of work here. Great imagery. Plus, if I ever need to call someone a trash bag in Flemish, I now know how to.
bellmusker replied

Thank you! This piece has just been adapted for performance on Radio National, which thrills me no end. And you can never have too many insults in spiky European languages, hey? :-)