The Last Text

The Last Text

Simone had not long returned from a satisfying holiday in Malaysia. She’d been with her long-standing friend Sven, who lived in a part of China that, despite China’s rapid modernisation, still lacked the shops Sven favoured. Apart from Shanghai, the large high-end malls beloved of Sven simply didn’t exist.

Over the years, Simone and Sven had come to find posh shopping malls irresistible, often planning their holidays around browsing, even when they bought nothing.

Kuala Lumpur delivered. They’d chosen their hotel carefully and set off each morning to explore, usually walking 7 or 8 miles. Since their last visit, a new high-end shopping mall had opened, and, with best foot forward, they enthusiastically set out to find it.

On their first visit to the new mall, Simone had hated it. She found the AC too high, which left her feeling permanently cold and uncomfortable. They’d entered on a floor that failed to excite her shopping genes. Whilst she slowly turned blue with cold, Sven’s face had gone red with excitement as he vanished amongst the racks and displays. The look of boredom on her face soon prompted Sven to suggest they leave and find somewhere else to go. As the hot afternoon sun gently warmed her skin, Simone looked forward to an alternative shopping experience.

Later in the week, while wandering, Sven pointed out the mall they had visited earlier. This time, they were seeing it from a different angle. The layout was centred on a magnificent garden that led into shops they hadn’t encountered before. Sven set off for his favourite outlets, while she wandered into a noticeably warmer part of the mall. As she moved from one luxury shop to another, she was amazed to find one displaying two large stuffed buffalo at its entrance. They stood like furry statues, each plugged into a power supply via thick cables.

‘What beautiful animals,’ she thought, staring at them. As she gazed, transfixed, she saw the white buffalo breathe, then its lifelike eyes blink. The dark brown one beside it slowly chewed what seemed to be imaginary grass. As she shifted her gaze from one to the other, a shop assistant arrived at her side.

“Can I help?” he asked. “Looking for a pair of spectacles?”

“Spectacles?” she said, trying to drag her gaze away from the white buffalo, which blinked slowly and watched her.

“We sell spectacles,” he said patiently.

“Why on earth do you have buffalo in your shop?” she asked.

“To entice you to come in, as you have done”.

The white buffalo continued to stare. Simone struggled to contain the urge to fling her arms around it, only stopped by a large sign that read “Do not touch”.

“I don’t want glasses; I want the buffalo.”

He laughed. “The buffalo belong here. But the glasses are for sale, and you are free to wander and try on any frames. However, the buffalo must not be touched.”

Sven soon found her, and, ignoring the buffalo, disappeared into the shop, returning eventually wearing a ‘dummy’ pair of glasses to ask Simone’s opinion.

“Wow, the glasses are really expensive in here,” he said.

“Well, it’s hardly surprising they’ve got animated buffalo here that seem to breathe, blink their eyes and appear to be grazing - these are not cheap.”

Sven regarded them through the frames he was modelling.

“Yep, good-looking animals. Which is Kuala and which is Lumpur?” he asked.

She laughed delightedly as she gave the two tethered, lifelike buffalo their new name. Kuala slowly lowered his head towards her, and she felt a strong connection.

She turned to Lumpur, who was still contentedly chewing the cud, his realistic eyes never leaving her face.

She said: “I’m going to have to leave soon, as Sven will soon get fed up with the spectacles, but I promise to come again.”

Kuala seemed to lower his head, and then turned his head and looked up at her.

“Can you understand me?” she asked, astonished.

“Simone? Let’s go and get a drink,” Sven called as he approached the shop entrance.

She looked at Kuala, who had raised his head to its original position and blinked slowly. She looked at Lumpur, who was standing stock-still, no longer chewing. He blinked.

She moved to a position between the two, raised her voice slightly, and said, “I’ll be back tomorrow to see you both,” then turned to follow Sven.

They ordered a smoothie and sat, discussing their time at the mall.

(2)

That evening, she rang her sister. Her sister had never been to Malaysia and was keen to hear about the trip. They discussed the usual things — the hotel, the food, the weather — before Simone started blabbing about the animated buffalo.

“Seriously, it was as if they were alive.”

The sister laughed. “Did you want to take them home with you?” she asked in a good-natured tone, joining the conversation.

“I really did — though I couldn’t have carried them out of the shop. They’re far too large, and probably too heavy.”

“Next time I write, I think I’ll write about the buffalo.”

“Well, you’ll need to work out how to get them out of the shop. Then what?”

“Good question. Well, at the moment they’re tethered and plugged into the electricity supply, but the way Kuala looked at me made me imagine he would follow me out of the shop - and I’d hope we weren’t stopped. Hopefully Lumpur would follow, still peacefully chewing the cud.”

“OK, where would you take them? Isn’t Kuala Lumpur busy with traffic and crowds?”

“True… needs thinking about.”

“Well, when you’ve made it into a story, send it to me. I enjoy your stories.”

(3)

Simone returned to the shop the next day. Initially, both buffalo stood, breathing gently. As she moved between them, she flexed her fingers to stop herself from stroking them.

“Hi, Kuala, did you sleep well?”

To her amazement, he turned slowly to look at her and nodded, quite naturally”.

“You can understand me, can’t you?”

Again, it nodded.

She turned to Lumpur. “Are you still eating?”

If it were possible, Lumpur smiled.

“Could you help us leave the shop?” said a deep, rolling voice.

She didn’t jump or squeal.

“Well, yes, but where would I take you? Outside is just concrete and pavements — cars, people. No food for buffalo.”

“We know where to find pasture and miles of prairie to stroll through.”

“Do you?” Simone was astonished.

“Yes, our maker showed it to us before we were brought to the shop. He told us someone would come and help us return to the prairie.” Both buffalo looked at her expectantly.

“Me? You think I will help you leave the shop?”

She tracked Sven down to one of his favourite shops, and while he thumbed through jeans and shirts, told him breathlessly what the buffalo had said.

“I can’t really help you. I don’t have the imagination to spring the buffalo from the shop. Why don’t you ask your sister? She’s good at this sort of thing.”

Simone found an empty seating area. Sitting in a comfortable chair, she rang her sister.

(4)

“I am so glad you rang,” said Miranda excitedly. “Last night I dreamt about how to get the buffalo out of the mall. I spoke to the man who made them. He said he would arrange for someone important in my life to act as my guide. The guide would return tonight, take me to the mall, and we’d simply untether the boys and lead them out.

“That simple?” Simone said, puzzled.

Miranda continued, excited by how simple it all seemed. Simone didn’t question how Miranda would travel to Malaysia. By the end of the conversation, everything seemed entirely possible.

She found Sven and told him about the proposed escape plan for the buffalo. He didn’t seem at all phased by her suggestions. He had just one question: “Are we all going to the prairie with the buffalo? I haven’t really finished shopping yet.”

“Well, you could stay here — I’ll go with Miranda. She’s bringing a guide. She says the man who made the buffalo has arranged everything.”

Sven looked interested. “Told you Miranda could help. Damn it all, she’s even dreamt about the buffalo creator!”

“Miranda, the guide, and the buffalo will meet me tonight at the back of the shopping mall. Apparently, off we’ll go to find the prairie. Honestly, I’m not sure of the details, but she was so confident that it didn’t seem appropriate to ask.”

When she’d finished, Sven took it in his stride and nodded. Strangely, nothing about it felt impossible.

The scene in her head shifted, and Simone found herself standing by the designated door of the mall. It was dark, and no lights showed from within.

As she waited, she heard her sister’s voice chatting to the buffalo as they approached the exit. She could also hear a man’s voice she recognised. The door opened silently, and standing between Kuala and Lumpur were Miranda and a man she hadn’t seen for years.

“Dad?” said Simone. “You’re not the maker of the buffalo?”

“No,” he laughed. “I’ve been chosen as the guide. I’m going with Miranda to a stretch of prairie. The buffalo will let us ride them if we get tired. It’s fortunate you found them when you did.”

“I’m starting to get confused. How did you both manage to meet again?”

“Dad agreed to be my guide because my time had come. I told him about the buffalo and your story. He suggested we take them to a prairie so you could finish it. So — what do you think? A good ending for them?”

“So that’s the answer to ‘How will you get the buffalo out of the shop?’”

“Well,” said Miranda, “Dad wanted to see me walking through the prairie, enjoying my new adventure.”

“Miranda …. are you dead?”

“Well, the buffalo aren’t real, are they, Simone? So don’t think of me as dead. Think of me as moving on. I’m not alone — and it comforts me to think I may have helped you finish your story.”

“What should I do about Sven in the story?”

“He’ll want to keep shopping, won’t he? So you can’t follow me. You’ll need to stay and write your story. You and Sven can continue your holiday. Dad and I will be with Kuala and Lumpur, exploring the prairie. Just write it as the mood takes you. Give me a hug.”

Simone felt a warm, loving glow as she watched her sister, her father, and the two buffalo leave the mall and slowly disappear.

(5)

She felt someone nudge her side.

“Are you sleeping?” whispered her elder sister.

“No, just thinking,” she whispered.

She had sat in the church, drafting the story in her head and feeling quietly grateful to her sister, who had always encouraged her to keep writing.

She cranked open her eyes to prove she was awake, and there she was, sitting in the church, surrounded by family and their friends. Not far from her stood the coffin, covered in wreaths and flowers. Simone was back at Miranda’s farewell, where she had first begun the story.

That evening, Simone sat with members of her family, sharing fond memories of a woman who had meant so much to them all.

“I am so annoyed that Miranda died so unexpectedly. I had just texted her about an idea, and we’d exchanged a couple of messages about how to develop it. The shock of no longer having Miranda around to encourage me when I felt my stories were going nowhere has been deeply upsetting.”

“In fact, our last text messages were so typical of her. Always positive, full of quirky ideas. When I’ve got over the shock of saying farewell, I’m going to write the story we were discussing — and give Miranda a happy ending.”

(6)

Miranda: “Glad you had a lovely holiday and hope your journeys home go smoothly. The photos made me envious. Catch up with you when you return (did you manage to stuff the white buffalo into your luggage?)”

Simone: The white buffalo is stuffed in my head, and that’s how I’m smuggling him out!