»
Main Forums
»
Passions in Prose
»
Skeleton in the Closet
| Passions in Prose |
|
Skeleton in the Closet |
|
|
Alicat Member Elite
since 1999-05-23
Posts 4094Coastal Texas 
|
The velveteen virga lazed about, occasionally pretending to be a fallen angel, prancing about on leathery wings. She came over the other day, bringing an avid interloper for another session of paint drying. Today's color was Burnt Chicory. When the cans rang hollow and the rollers were sucked dry, she abruptly left, smelling of cherries. He, however, did not. Even threats of rent were not enough to dislodge that one, tenaciously digging calcareous phalanges into sullen wooden boards filled with protesting termites shouting 'Union 28630'. Upper management was heavy footed, and the squawks came so silent not even uncivil libertarian lawyers could comprehend. I took him for European, possibly French or Liechtensteinian. He didn't precisely hover, yet stayed inordinately close, his pickled breath softly tousling my nape. Antigravity brings a firm foot. Being bereft of gravity has brought suffering upon all who tossed loose those mortal bounds. Regardless, there he was, barely a half step behind, perpetually off-rhythm. And then he was gone. Perchance to gleeful exuberance I thought him misplaced, never to step on the back of my shoe again. Turbulent peace ensued, broken only by virga's smile on the far illegal alien border, where scuttled so many shambled heaps like scuttling roaches, fleeing the heavy boots. Life progressed, or so it was said, one day into the next with very little skipping about willynilly. Then chill winds blew, ruffling the tepid vixens promising warmth surpassing. Exactly what, I've no notion. As the winds howled and bayed beyond my corridored door, I thought to be wise. With determined mirth, slightly forced through Bowdlerized intentions, I strode grimly towards the erstwhile closet door. Persnickety through a life of sly malignment, it opened without complaint. Instead of a trusted mack, that erstwhile transient leapt from the confines, adroitly trading spaces. He has a new skeleton in his closet. Alicat |
||
| © Copyright 2005 Alastair Adamson - All Rights Reserved | |||
|
serenity blaze Member Empyrean
since 2000-02-02
Posts 27738 |
I saved this to read offline, as this is going to require some time for me to read (which I'm lacking right now) but oh lawdy, I am chuckling in one sentence, and scratching my head in the next. " took him for European, possibly French or Liechtensteinian" grin (but of course, Liechtenstein!) Sheesh bro.  You are a natural for this twining of the reality with the absurdity, that, nod, weaves together that dream-like surreality, that makes you wonder, "Is a dream just a dream?" And I could study you a million years and never put words together in the manner that you do, which comes across as individual vernacular, and all done with the confidence that there is an entire nation of people who speak the same language. (It's good to have friends in the cuckoo's nest.)  I'll be reading more.  |
||
|
Poet deVine
Administrator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-05-26
Posts 22612Hurricane Alley |
Can I look in your closet? You've written this in a way that makes the reader unable to look away...I'm not sure what the deeper meaning is, but I loved the rhythm of the words and the descriptions!!! |
||
|
Alicat Member Elite
since 1999-05-23
Posts 4094Coastal Texas |
*smile* Thank you Serenity and PdV for your responses and insights. I haven't written many prose pieces, and am still trying to learn the finer points of plot/story management. This one was patterened after classical Nonsense and Absurdists word treatment, not so much making new words which have no real meaning, but by utilizing contrasting sequences, words that cancel each other out. The bare gist was an image I had in my head after about 1 finger of Scotch out of 3, of a critter in a closet leaping out at you, yanking your bones from your skin, leaping into the now vacant husk, and making your bones his skeleton in the closet. Stranger things have happened. |
||
LoveBug
Moderator
Member Elite
since 2000-01-08
Posts 4697 |
I'm not familiar with the absurdist style of writing, but I still enjoyed this a lot.. very creepy, and even for those of us who aren't familiar with this style, it is an enjoyable read. Oh, make me Thine forever And should I fainting be Lord, let me never ever Outlive my love for Thee |
||
|
kif kif Member
since 2006-06-01
Posts 439BCN |
I'm thinking it's drawn from dream imagary, but then, I have just read another by you that's more obviously a dream. I like the way the words curl around the mouth when you play with them, "lazed about, occasionally pretending to be a fallen angel" is fantastic-there's lots of cheekiness and frivolity in this, as "with determined mirth" (very clever, tremendously simple and complex, like "turbulent peace") although I would have left "perchance" out; as it's one of my least favourite words...is it not dead, yet? You've made a brooding atmosphere, and it's quite sensual. The whole style is quite stand-up; I laughed out loud at the dead-pan delivery of lines like "I took him for European..." and "Antigravity brings a firm foot." Also, I admire the time-span you seem to have covered, not "with very little skipping about, willy-nilly"-quite the opposite! Although, there is recurring themes, some 'she' called virga, and some 'he'(the avid interloper) that's out of kilter, and 'you'. I think this is a weird story about trading places-the 'she' has two lovers-one living as loved, while the other's trapped in the closet? I read a sci-fi story once, about a machine that could swap concious identities-somehow, it reminds me of that. The new skeleton is you, the new 'you' is the old skeleton, him, the avid interloper? As well, it could be the description of a game-let's not rule anything out. (You might say "contrived", but that's 'cos you know where it comes from. To me, it sounds natural (to you-and it's all about reception!) I'm enjoying what you're showing me, thanks.) ps; in your reply, you talk of words that cancel each other out. I've written something I think is full of fallacy, called "Weeping Like A Cloud". *Walking through the club, the smoke burned my eyes. With a rub-a-dub talking, clouded I'm, enflamed by the sky, falling from the speakers...like a light dawning, pain, introducing me to crime. I'm getting tired like an old dog, leaping from this tub of strife, shrouded life, enchained by the rain outside. Ridiculous from the start, as smoke don't walk? I'm finding it difficult to leave my logical plane...but getting there? *excuse the rudeness, but it's by no means ready to post as a thing-more a symbol to show you what I think you mean by 'nonsense word treatments'. [This message has been edited by kif kif (08-14-2006 06:09 PM).] |
||
|
jo_kritickisto Junior Member
since 2006-08-17
Posts 15 |
Personifying various things and attributing political meaning to them is indeed a style I enjoy using myself. Glad to see writers like you here. |
||
|
|
⇧ top of page ⇧ |
|
| All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format. | ||
