Friday, September 10, 2004


Humbert Humbert was forced to flee the country. He dived into the sea and swam over wallowing waves to Lolita Island, braving the horrors of the man-mangling mako sharks infesting the saltwater surrounds of that lovely lay of land. He collapsed on sensuous sands over warm imprints of bare Lolita feet. Tentatively touching hands of Lolita maidens tested over his body shortly thereafter, bore him up to transport and deposit him on his knees before the underaged Lolita Queen leisurely lounging on leather. She decided his destiny, and it was a heaven he would have prayed to a devil for. He would prepare daily sustenance for the flowering forms of girlhood. At mealtime he could watch the small bites of tasty food wander wistfully into the young girls' mouths. Evenings he was to work in the laundry washing and ironing by hand the undergarments that so intimately covered the lithe Lolitas by day. Mornings he would help clothe them, pulling up skirts and pulling down tops, subsequently leading the Nabokovian nymphets in morning gymnastics, the taut t-shirts he had so tenderly teased into place slipping to reveal the sun-touched skin beneath. He would have enjoyed it much more had not one of the man-mangling mako sharks enclosed its jaws around the worst possible place for Humbert Humbert.

Story #29

7 comments:

Anonymous said...

I thought you'd leave Humbert Humbert physically intact, which would have made his stay in lolita paradise even more exciting (for the reader;)
K.

Indeterminacy said...

It did seem rather harsh to wake Humbert (and the reader) so abruptly out of the dream. But I don't know how else I could have ended it. The novel itself didn't have a happy end either, although a happy end here might have intriguingly contrasted that.

Indeterminacy said...
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Indeterminacy said...

You can probably see this story if in a different light if you know that Humbert Humbert is the narrator in Vladimir Nabokov's Lolita. I wouldn't have known that myself until about half a year ago, when I read the book myself. I never saw any of the film versions.

It's an amazing book to read, written with brilliant irony and a love of the English language that you seldom find anywhere. (My imitation of Nabokov's alliterative style is weak in comparison). Doing a quick google I found some links for those interested in learning more about the source:

http://edition.cnn.com/SPECIALS/books/1999/nabokov
http://www.complete-review.com/reviews/nabokovv/lolita1.htm

I wonder what someone who read the book might think of my mini-handling of the theme?

Rev. Kimberly Rich said...

It was a very good handling actually. I mean you give yourself a minute. I could not do Jane Autin or Charles Baxter as much justice as you have in that time. Well done.
love and light

Indeterminacy said...

I can't let you think I'm writing these in one minute! I take it from the reader's persepctive, that they can be read in a minute. The rough draft actually did come out in a few minutes time, but not after carrying the image around in my head the whole day. Hammering it into shape was hours. I just couldn't leave it alone, wanted every sentence to be "perfect." It's a perfectionist kind of thing. That said, tomorrow's story will be nice. It came out in a couple of minutes time, and I think it's finished. It will be a nice story to start your day with. ;-)

Cori said...

You! you! you! Doing your smarty pants dance!! I enjoy your blog so!