The Voice of the Mist (2016 | 2026 - 2027)
- Jun 10
- 18 min read
Updated: Jul 20
A Love Letter to Magical Realism and to Haruki Murakami
Summary
Blue, a taciturn student, stumbles upon a curious leaflet whilst wandering down an anonymous street at night. With an address handwritten on it, the paper mentions a bar that is said to open only on Wednesday evenings.
“For those who, for just one night, would like everything to be different.”
With bruised hands and smudged eyeliner, Blue has nothing better to do. The young woman heads to the address given, walks through the abandoned herbalist’s shop at the correct number, and, once in its back courtyard, climbs the stairs leading to that mysterious destination. Inside, to the sound of a jazz tune that speaks to her of all her favourite things, a masked waiter welcomes her and guides her to the bar. Very polite, though a little too talkative, he explains the rules of the place to her.
“The Lounge is a rather unusual bar. Open every Wednesday evening, it will welcome you for as long as you like. Be warned, however: if you ever miss a week, its doors will be closed to you forever.”
A mute singer, puppets resembling her waiter, windows each revealing their own landscape, a bar in ruins by morning and even a night market wedged between two walls… Over the course of five Wednesday evenings, each more absurd than the last, Blue will have to let go of any grip on reality in order to better remember the time when night was her favourite time of day.
Letter of Intent
A true love letter to Haruki Murakami’s After Dark, which I discovered in 2015 and which remains my favourite bedside book to this day. As a jazz enthusiast and, somewhat unwittingly, a lover of the night – being an insomniac – I found in his writing sentences of crystal-clear simplicity, yet full of subtext that still resonate within me today.
The Voice of the Mist is a novel that explores my own perception of the passing of the night, where time is lost in the shadows until it seems to stand still. Where ghosts and fantasies mingle at the whim of the imagination. With a wry yet sincere joy, the writing in this book attempts to pay homage, as best I can, to magical realism. To all those nights when I myself could not sleep, spent writing or drawing until dawn signalled that time had resumed its course.
I didn’t want a story that was either horrific or enchanting, but rather one that was somewhere in between. Melancholic (as suggested by the name ‘Blue’) because of the stories told by the Lounge’s patrons, yet surprisingly joyful because of the suspended moments they share. I also wanted an element of the absurd, and playing with the conventions of the fantastical to oscillate between the marvellous and reality allowed me to incorporate this without disrupting the narrative flow.
Begun in late 2016 and put on hold when I started my studies in animated film, it is only very recently that I have resumed writing it.
Highlights (focusing on dialogues)
1st Wednesday Night - "A lifetime chatterbox" (2018)
"But to come here week after week, there must have a lot to discuss. What is there to chatter about that much ?"
Surprised, Yoh laughes quietly. He remembered asking the same question a long time ago. Was it as a client ? Only he could tell. However whatever the truth is, weeks and nights have flown by since then, and Yoh now knows how to reply.
"What do we talk about to get through our entire lifetime ? A lifetime, moreso if healthy, is a really long time, and yet we manage it just fine."
Looking at how Blue was glowering at him, Yoh laughs a second time, before waving his hand apologetically.
"Well, I admit it. It wasn't a satisfying answer. Let's just say that from my one full year of experience, I'd say that everyone ends up sooner or later talking about themselves or their problems.
— What if they don't have any ?
— Is there anyone who doesn't have any problems whatsoever ? pondered a puzzled Yoh. Must be boring ! Anyway, every people coming here present some sort of complications. Lingering in their minds, haunting them and guiding them towards that Wednesday's Lounge. Rumour says that only those who need it are allowed to enter here."
One smug smile later, he wraps up his monologue :
"Hence our role as compassionate and benevolent hosts, don't you think ?"
— Hmph."
Clearly, Blue was not convinced. She's not a girl with problems, her sullen face proclaims. Even though her swollen hands tell us a far different story.
1st Wednesday Night - "About finding clues" (2018)
We've already talked about this person. Only briefly, but it's definitely the same one who was slumped all over the counter. He is neither crying nor mad at anything. He's just sitting there, drunk and apathetic. His voice, although we can't hear it from where we are, is slurred. However, judging by the waitress's attitude, his words still seem fairly lucid. As for us, we couldn't be certain. Did Blue see the same thing? It's her turn to carry out her investigation.
"He's an office worker who's just been fired and has come here to get drunk and forget.
— What makes you say that? asks Yoh.
— The suit, for one thing, and the briefcase next to the stool. Oh, and he's wearing a wedding ring, isn't he? That could explain why he's hanging around here. Going home would mean facing his wife and telling her the news. He's risking his life, y'know.
— Your opinion about women is rather frightening."
Punctuating his remark with a grin, he stretches before continuing:
"But let's say that's true : this guy lost his job and is afraid to go home. Hm... That would almost make sense !
— Almost?
— Yes, almost. What bothers me is his apathetic attitude. It's the attitude of someone who drinks a lot, who's used to it.
— Which is not necessarily incompatible with office work, Blue points out. On the contrary !
—True, but then how do you explain his lack of anger? If you'd just been fired, would you have reacted so calmly?’
— Probably not, she admits.
— See."
Yoh caresses an imaginary beard, imagining himself as the wise sage he always sought to be.
"I think he must have been fired a while ago.
She frowns.
"In that case, what about the suit?
— Yet another job interview? And yet another failure? That would explain the man's desolation. "
Once she started investigating, Blue's attitude changed radically. For the first time, she wears a rather pleasant expression. Or at least an interested one.
"That makes sense for now, Blue grumbles. But then, what about the wedding ring? I mean, his wife's ring.
— She's hanging on, despite everything, cleaning and doing chores in order to feed their poor children.
— Do you think we're living in Sophie's Misfortunes ?
—Would you prefer divorce proceedings?
—Of course not, she sighs. But it's far more credible."
Credible. There is something pretty sad about that word.
1st Thusday Morning - "A dream that tasted of coffee" (2018)
Finally awake, Blue carefully descends the stairs. The second floor does not reremind her of anything, so she decides to go downstairs. She finally recognises the corridors on the ground floor. The mahogany parquet flooring, dwarf palm tree and hydrangeas are right in front of her. So the great hall should be on her left, right? Overcomed by curiosity (and because her stomach is growling), she decides to take a look. Will she see the waiter again?
Nothing.
There is nothing. Not a trace of a table; just a few poorly stacked chairs in a corner. The screens have been roughly aligned up next to them, their rice paper torn in places and the wood broken in others. Sheets cover other shapes - most of which are indistinct. The sun shines through the two boarded-up windows. The curtains flutter intermittently, offering her a gentle caress of the wind on her skin. She walks into the room, unable to comprehend what is happening. We don't understand either. Like a ghostly cameraman, we follow her step by step, revelation by revelation. Fixed shot on the back of her neck, zoom on her hand sliding across the counter. She contemplates her index finger, which is topped with a dust bunny. Needless to say, this speck is already quite large. Blue walks a few more metres, approaching the shrimp tank. Its only inhabitants are a worn-out mop and a brush from a dustpan.
Blue now wants to leave. Nothing is holding her back, and we totally feel the same way. But as she turns around, there is a loud crash. Her foot had got caught in one of the sheets, which she took with her. Fortunately, nothing fell. Otherwise, she would have been very uncomfortable. And with good reason: she is now contemplating what was hidden under the sheet just moments ago.
Two mannequins. Plain off-white, they are wearing the Lounge waiter's uniform. One is female, the other male. This would not be surprising... if they did not have the features of the people she had met yesterday. Blue is not sure about the girl, but she has no doubt about the boy. And we must admit that the resemblance is indeed striking. It is Yoh. A perfect representation of his frank and silly posture.
How long does she stare at him ? We don't know exactly, only that the seconds tick by quickly on the counter of our imaginary camera. What is she thinking? How does she feel? We have no idea.
Her face remains clear, without the slightest wrinkle to go on. Her dark eyes don't give anything away either. Just as we are about to frame the shot elsewhere, Blue reaches out towards the mannequin's face. Her finger is about to touch it.
« They look quite alike, don't they? »
Blue turns around, surprised by this interruption. A woman she doesn't recognise walks into the room. A melancholy smile slowly spreads across her face. Her strangely hoarse voice echoes through the empty room.
« Every Thursday morning, I come down here and pull back the sheet to look at them. And every time, I tell myself the same thing : they look so much like them ! It's silly, but I can't help it. It's become a kind of ritual.
— Excuse me, Blue says timidly, But who are you?
— Don't you recognise me? the other woman asks, surprised. I was on TV not so long ago. »
We know her. She's the woman in the coat from yesterday. She's dressed in an evening gown and is a beautiful peroxide blonde with generous curves. Perhaps in her late thirties. She has all the trappings of a society lady.
« I don't watch television, sorry.
— That explains it. »
The blonde woman reaches her.
« Is it really them ? Blue murmurs softly.
— I don't know. I've never known. »
The lady shrugs.
« To be honest, I've never asked them. But it seems likely, so you can believe it if you'd like. That it was all a dream and that the Lounge never really existed.
— True.
— But you can still taste it on your tongue, can't you? The taste of their coffee, I mean. If that's not proof, I don't know what it is...
— Why didn't you ever ask?’
— Because I'm not interested. Magic or no magic, mirage or practical joke - as long as I feel good there, honestly, I don't care. »
The lady's gravelly voice becomes teasing.
« But if you're that curious, you know what you have to do. »
Blue doesn't answer. Of course she knows very well what she has to do.
2st Wednesday Night - "How vexing it'd be if you really existed" (2018)
Approximately three and a half. Eventually, the chaos caused by the burglary subsided and everyone fell asleep. Prudence and Kazembe left them, claiming they were exhausted. Despite the late hour, we notice – to our surprise – that people are still coming and going . Sitting down wherever they pleased, sometimes inviting their waiter to join them. Ordering sometimes a coffee, a beer or even a full meal. And as they wait, they chatter. Some are staying for only ten minutes, others for an hour. No one comes accompanied. It is in these moments that we perceive the difference between a normal bar and this Lounge. No one usually walks into a pub as if they were going to buy a baguette. Or at least, no one does so in the middle of the night. There is noise upstairs. We can hear the floorboards creaking.
« Why are people leaving so quickly? asks Blue, watching the scene unfold. Isn't that strange?
— Not really. Here, on the contrary, it's very common. People who are on the road to recovery often just drop by to say goodbye before returning to their own world.
— On the road to... recovery ? What does that mean?
— It means they'll soon have to leave the Lounge, Yoh explains. That the problem that brought them here is slowly being resolved.
— I don't understand. »
Blue's answer cuts through the calm of the conversation. Yoh clings to the table behind him. He already knows what she's going to say.
« This whole thing is a mess, she slams with an indomitable assurance. A lounge that only opens once a week ? Why not ? That's just eccentric. But then, (she raises a finger with each new complaint about the place), what about not being able to come back ? That's borderline dictatorship ! Why impose such a restriction? Are only people with problems allowed to stay now? With all due respect, I can't help but find this rule completely absurd.
— Magic doesn't exist, is that it?
— It's not even a question of magic, I...
— We don't select anyone at the door. It just turned out that each of our customers had that weight on their hearts that they needed to lighten, explains the young waiter calmly. It also turned out that once that weight was lifted, those people never came back. 'I can't come back, I try, but I can't find my way', a customer once told us through a friend who had not yet left the Lounge. That's how it is, no one comes back forever. Life goes on, and inevitably, one day it is time for our clients to move on. None of us made that decision, just as none of us chose to open only on Wednesdays. »
Yoh spreads his hands and gestures to his surroundings. Under the glare of the spotlights lining the ceiling, his eyes sparkle with a singular brilliance.
« Some things can't be explained. They just happen, unperturbed and inevitable. This Lounge is one of those things. You are free to believe it or not. You can think you're hallucinating, having a nightmare or dreaming; it's up to you. Perhaps you're lying in bed right now. Or slumped in a corner, dead drunk. If that makes it easier for you, then that's fine by me too. »
Yoh's kindness frightens us a little. There's an uneasy feeling in the air, turning the silence into a monster. Despite all her pride, Blue doesn't know how to respond to such a speech. Her pragmatic, logical mind would like to dismiss it outright, but at this late hour, part of her begins to dream of ghosts and spirits. Fatigue has drawn two dark circles under her deep black eyes.
« In that case... were you sure I would come back tonight? »
Now it is Yoh's turn to be caught off guard. He scratches the back of his neckand vaguely grabs a strand of his hair.
« Honestly, I didn't. You're a mystery to me. Wild and docile. Incredulous and curious. Haunted by demons, yet grounded in rationality. It's not easy for me to figure you out, not at all. »
He remains silent.
« But I hoped so. That you would come back.
« Why?
« 'Why?' »
He repeats the question. His smile reveals most of his thirty-two teeth and wrinkles the corners of his eyes into crow's feet.
« I'd like to understand, he says. Understand who Blue from the Lounge truly is. And thus grasp at least a little of what drove her to become that person. You were happier before, weren't you? »
Blue picks up her cup. She examines it from every angle, even turning it upside down. A drop falls onto the table. She wipes it up mechanically with her sleeve. Then her eyes turn to her waiter. Her black irises are disturbing, to say the least. He tries to hold her gaze — and, above all, the menacing finger she is pointing at him.
« This has be a dream. You're far too intelligent and perceptive to be real. How vexing it'd be if you really existed. »
2th Wednesday Night - "An idiot's love story" (2018)
« Have you ever been in love? »
They are wandering through the corridors. Blue, who couldn't stand sitting still any longer, has decided to explore every corner of the Lounge. Every hallway is filled with many empty rooms, a few closed doors, and countless windows at different heights. Blue's question comes at this moment.
« Yes, of course, replies Yoh, counting on his fingers. Three... no, two confirmed times. No, just one relationship. I'm not really sure about the rest.
— I... see. Any memories interesting about it ?
— Except for the conclusions, which weren't always very happy, I'd say that overall, it's a pretty nice feeling to be in love. It adds contrast to life.
— Spice, you mean? »
He grimaces.
« That's not a very good expression. Not everyone likes spicy food. »
We follow the pair from a distance, as if to better study them as a couple. Their strides are not in sync. Blue's gait is sharp, while Yoh's is nonchalant. And yet, by some inexplicable equation, we see that they are moving at the same pace. Ahead of them, the lines on the parquet floor seem endless.
« I don't have much to say about it, really. I went out with my first love, but while we undoubtedly loved each other, we ultimately couldn't agree on how long that love would last. Let's just say it didn't extend beyond my two fixed-term contracts.
— That's terrible.
— Isn't it? »
Blue shakes her head.
« No, I was talking about the way you tell stories. »
She shakes her head again. Soon, her words will echo through the corridor, accompanied by the sound of rain pattering against the windows.
« I suppose that cynicism is your way of protecting yourself. Of hiding, of forgetting, whatever your turtle strategy is. Call it what you want but it'll still be a shame. It doesn't suit you to act this way. You can be annoying at times, but frankly, I prefer your usual tendency to be stupidly honest. »
As he turns his head towards her, the girl in worn trainers gives him one of her rare smiles.
« Leave the bitter remarks to those who love that sour taste, okay? »
They settle into one of the abandoned rooms on a tatami mat-covered floor. They lean against the walls, the damaged rushes creaking under their fingers. Blue asked her why he had never tried to win her back — the girl he had loved on indefinite contract. We observe the scene from ground level, like a camera left in a corner. The angle and the exposure are both awful. Not to mention the sharpness. These two people are blurry. The leg of the central table is not. Unfortunately for us spectators, this is of little interest – except perhaps to carpentry enthusiasts. Are you one of them ? The grooves in the wood are even finer than the streaks in the rice straw.
We are not doing our job properly.
« Why don't you see her again?’ she asks him once again.
He finally shrugs.
« Oh, I'll see her again someday. Maybe at the bus stop, maybe on a train taken at the same time the same day. It's happened many times before and it'll happen again. Maybe she'll perched in her usual position, cross-legged and bathed in the sound of her favourite music playing through her headphones. I bet she'll have her mane scattered all around her while her eyes'll be glued to the window with a sulky mouth. Or maybe not. Time sure flies after all. Maybe I won't recognise her until the last moment. Perhaps she won't even recognise me. Perhaps I've already walked past her without regognising her. What I am sure of is that even if we notice each other, there will be no romance. No time suspended with grace and poetry. Two possibilities... »
He raises the index finger of each hand in perfect parallelism.
« Either she'll treat me as if nothing had happened, with that slightly indifferent friendship we bestow on certain people, or she'll look down on me. And tell me arrogantly to move along. »
His mouth twists into a self-mocking pout.
« And since I'm a cowardly idiot, I'll do what I've always done: I'll smile politely and play along. That's why I have no regrets. Even if I saw her again, nothing more or less would happen that has already happened. »
Faced with the young woman's silence, the waiter sticks his tongue out at her.
« Anyway, time has passed for me too. I have better things to do now: I'm not a Wednesday Night customer anymore, after all ! »
Resting her cheek in her palm, she laughs at his bravado. Then she winces. Blue has just made sense of Yoh's words.
« But... so you truly were originally a customer? »
He looked at her as if she were stupid.
« Well, obviously. How else do you think I 'd have found the location of the Lounge? »
Indeed, she felt stupid.
3th Wednesday Night - "Humans are like octupus." (2018)
Misty echoes through the room. It's a classic tune, and Kazembe, being a good jazzman, starts humming along. Next to him, a young man delivers a soliloquy to his somewhat amused customer:
« It's not that there aren't any bad or evil people who come here. What does it even mean to be bad or evil? It's a vague concept. »
Frankly, the languid tune played by the saxophone is completely at odds with the young man's tone. If he has noticed this, he ignores it nonetheless.
« Besides, I don't think we really know anyway. People wear so many masks on top of each other that we quickly forget there's a real face underneath. So determining whether someone is a good person or not... »
Yoh scratches his head, his stream of words having dried up. We don't know what he's looking for, he's really itching about something. His dull voice returns to disrupt the duel between the piano and the saxophone. Erroll Garner would be proud of this third improvised voice.
«Actually, humans are like octopuses, says the boy.
— Octopuses? Kazembe finally reacts, raising an eyebrow.
— When they're scared, they spit ink, right? As a defence mechanism, so they can escape better. »
The manager, busy at the other end of the counter, listens distractedly. Meanwhile, the girl seems to be questioning him with her gaze. He notices and continues:
« Well, our defence mechanism is our masks. Our ink is all the different attitudes and behaviours we adopt depending on who we're with. Friendly, hostile, arrogant, tender or attentive... Since there's no guarantee that we're expressing the truth, as long as we continue to play with these masks, we can keep running away. Like an octopus.
— It's a theory... » the girl begins before hesitating.
She rests her jaw against her clenched fist.
« ...interesting?
— Absolutely absurd, yes! »
The exclamation comes from the left. The manager, whose laughter has become irrepressible, walks towards them. She affectionately cups her employee's head.
« I don't know where you get all these ideas from, but it must be a really nice place. Apart from octopuses, are there other animals like that?
— That's not very nice to say, grimaces the boy. I was serious.
— There's something strange », Blue interjects.
The two bickering parties cease their battle. She now has their attention.
« You're always so cheerful that you're annoying.
— That's harsh...»
The boy thinks seriously about the question. Being a relatively good sport, he adds:
« But it seems quite... accurate ?
— Let me finish, will you?
— Yes, ma'am, sorry, ma'am.
— It wasn't a criticism,’ explains Blue. "Being cheerful is a good thing. No, what I don't understand is your octopus story. It's a very negative story.
— Negative?
— Pessimistic, more precisely », corrects Blue.
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
« If what you say were true, it would mean that other people are constantly lying. That there is nothing authentic behind their masks. Whereas we can easily admit that we behave differently simply because each person is different. »
Surprised, the boy's mouth hangs open. He discovers a new side to his client. Blue has never talked so much.
« So I find it strange that someone as sociable as you would think that way. It's a rather sad view, Sir Octopus. »
Judging by the expression on the boy's face, grey and almost faded like a Howard Hawks film playing on an old cathode ray tube, Blue realises she has struck a chord. Yoh is actually painful to see.
« You may be right », he murmurs.
5th Wednesday Night - "Could but won't." (2018)
The fifth night. The room is quiet, they hardly say anything anymore. Both has taken up a book, Yoh can guess in advance when she wants another cup of coffee. They now form a strange yet harmonious duo. Which no longer feels any boredom as the night wears on.
"What if I stayed?"
Yoh looks up, uses his finger to mark his page, and gazes at her for a few seconds. Then he returns to his reading. A hint of a smile touches his face.
"I shouldn't, is that right?" Blue continues with a slight tremor. "You're not saying anything, but that's what you're thinking. You're just too nice to tell me, that's all."
She sighs. Her body arches backwards, her legs dangling in the air.
"I felt good here, though. It's warm, the beds are comfortable, you can even watch the sea on rainy days. Even make love. It's enough to lead a peaceful life. Enough to forget all the troubles of the world and all of mine as well. The alcohol is good, the waiters are nice — not all of them, not you for example. Moreover, I don't remember my dreams when I sleep here. That's good. Dreams and nightmares always leave a funny taste in my mouth each time I wake up."
Yoh still doesn't answer. However, we can see that he is no longer turning the pages. Lost in contemplation of the floorboards, Blue can see nothing but curtain of faded blonde hair.
"This is the last night, isn't it?" Her voice trembles despite her efforts to control it. "I know that, traitor. But you could have at least pretended.
— You could stay here," Yoh finally says, speaking with the utmost caution. "No one will object, neither me nor anyone else."
He moistens his lips and corrects himself:
"Especially me, less than anyone else. You'll grow up here, mature, grow old ; with white hair, sagging breasts and wrinkles. Then, one day, we'll find you at the window of your room on the first floor, listening to the trains go by. You'll take up the torch from Ekaterina's grandfather. Even better: without children or grandchildren, you'll have no one to mock your incontinence.
— That's a very sad picture when you put like that.
— Not necessarily. Because you'll have stories to tell. About the people you meet Wednesday evening after Wednesday evening, about the permanent residents like yourself, or about the activities you've done over the years. You could spend your life reading, you know. Without saddening any picture, or making your life false or non-existent. You can devote your life to one thing. Do you think those who stay on Thursday mornings are unhappy?
— No.
— Except that deep down, you don't want to stay here indefinitely.
— T-that's... true.
— Then this is indeed the last night."
And thus, they stared at each other without saying a word. The night was passing with dried tears.