Elaine visited the museum one day while touring a city of culture. The works of art spoke to her secretly and imparted upon her their plan, inviting her to return after closing hour to be with them. The Renoir nude would hypnotize the guard, so he would not be a problem. The mobiles would spin on their own, attracting the motion-sensing cameras. The statue by the window would see that the bars were unlocked. Once she was inside, there would be no disruptions the entire night long. Her clothes discarded in the corner, she would stand before the paintings, arms outstretched, and they would cast their colors upon her. She would sense fine nuances that even the artists themselves had overlooked. The sculptures would allow her to glide her fingers over their perfect forms, to marvel at the mystery of skin the impossible texture of warm ice. Ancient objects would whisper their secrets into her ear. She would understand them and appreciate them. And in return she would be understood and appreciated. As Elaine self-assuredly reached to open the bars, she looked forward to a new world of intimacy open only to one girl alone with art.
Story # 208
This picture turned to be truly inspiring, didn't it? I'm glad I chose it. For the prize drawing I'll leave it open until I post tomorrow's story. Anyone still wanting to contribute a story, please feel welcome to. Tomorrow I'll select a contributor at random who will receive a b+w print of one of my own photos, along with a story it inspired. I can send this either snail mail or in digital form, in case the winner does not want to make known his/her address.
The reader stories may also viewed at indeterminacies.blogspot.com.
20 comments:
It had finally happened: the crazy people outnumbered the sane, and Modesta was one of the few people left who had her head on straight. The outside world was her prison, and while she at first thought this was great because she could go anywhere and do anything without having to encounter the insane, in time she became lonely. She no longer had human company, save the passersby in her life who were nice people but not... interesting. She missed her family and how they'd leave the phone off the hook when they were home, explaining that if someone had an emergency they'd be able to get through somehow. She missed her friends and the way their individual idiosyncrasies would mesh to create unbelievable and memorable adventures. Despite the consequences that she was very much aware of and how she always swore she was longing for the day she was now living in, she'd do anything to be back in the senseless world.
She'd had psychic powers ever since she could remember but had never told a single soul. Her powers had a strange contingent: she must touch something that had been made by the person in order to get a reading. Until now, she'd only used her powers in fun ways to find out things about boys she liked or to have information with which to bribe her siblings. But, when her favorite uncle, the local ironsmith, went missing and was feared to have been murdered, she knew she had to find out the truth for the sake of her poor, distraught aunt and her bewildered cousins who'd been left nearly penniless. She grabbed hold of the bars, made by her dear uncle's own hands, and held on for nearly 4 hours. Finally, she saw him...fuzzy at first, then more clearly. He was on a beach, wearing a speedo and laughing with two scantilly clad women who were slathering him with suntan oil.
The bank teller is running late on Friday to close up her station and her friends are like Hurry up! It's the weekend! We want to get out of here! So her hands became a blur and Finally! They all spew out the front door as beverage from a well shaken can. She pauses by her car door staring at the handle which drums up an image of her keys on the counter. An Olympic recorder breaking sprint back to the bank but all's gone and door's locked. Nose pugged against the cold glass, she sees the custodian way back by a window. Like a race car, she skids around the corner to the window and grabs the bars, shaking them in hopes to get the attention of the man inside the bank. Alarm. Police. FBI. Questioning. Check records. Check work. She has been embezzling and has outstanding warrants. So it's off to jail where she again stands holding bars, shaking the bars, but this time not to get in, but to get out!
Mushroom: This is my favorite one that you've written. Kind of a reverse on existentialism. Wow!
Jamie Dawn: My muse came in after I read yours and asked if I was laughing at my own story. Thanks for the shot of humor. I expected a tragedy.
Tom & Icy: After reading your story it occurred to me that my stories all stay in one place. Yours had a fast moving tempo that took us all over. It was great!
Everyone else: Write something!
My sister-in-law's (Courtney's aunt) blog address:
hayseed118.blogspot.com
Thanks! I've added it to the Courtney family link.
The university builing seemed to have been evacuated and been closed up as if by magic, and the little chinese stundent was desperately trying to get inside. "Where has everybody gone? Why are the doors sealed up? How is this possible?", Chan Li kept wondering. But she was restless, she new she had to get inside today somehow in order to acquire some important information for the essay she had to handle over the next day. "I got to go inside no matter how." She thought. So she took a hairpin and tryed to unlock the door with it. But it wouldnt work because the lock of the main entrance of the university building was not exactly as easy to open as her diary lock. She soon gave the door idea up and kept walking in cirles around the building when she saw the library window. But the window had bars which seemed impossible to move. However, when Chan Li placed her hands on them to see how strong they were, the bars immediately gave in and freed the window. Amazed at this discovery, Chan Li quickly climbed up the window, entered the building and spend a couple of hours alone in the library. When her work was done, she left in the same way as she got in and placed the bars back into their place. Satisfied and happy for having collected the information she needed, she kept wondering why the university was closed on that nice day. But as she glanced at her mobile phone, she understood why and blamed herself for being silly. Of course it was the first of May. "Great" She thought. "Only I have got to work on such a day, only I...".
I also enjoyed all stories above very much but I have to say that I am also impressed by mushrooms idea!
"Is this cardboard?" She said out loud on the street as she grasped and pulled at what moments before seemed to be beautiful Florentine ironwork.
"Whaa thha…?" slipping as she bushed the tips of her fingers across the old chiseled stone, realizing that it was merely painted butcher paper, stapled onto stretcher bars.
She backed up slowly from the wall and paused for a moment letting a pack of smoking college students pass. Hmmm.
"Fuck Florence," she yelled as she threw a swift boot kick, which rose up and cut through, leaving a visible opening that exposed the bare papier mache ass of Michelangelo’s David.
She stepped inside the Galleria dell'Academia, eyeing all of its recreations and reproductions. She reached into her canvas bag and pulled out an adjustable flame Bic lighter.
"Is this cardboard?" She said out loud on the street as she grasped and pulled at what moments before seemed to be beautiful Florentine ironwork.
"Whaa thha…?" slipping as she brushed the tips of her fingers across the old chiseled stone, realizing that it was merely painted butcher paper, stapled onto stretcher bars.
She backed up slowly from the wall and paused for a moment letting a pack of smoking college students pass. Hmmm.
"Fuck Florence," she yelled as she threw a swift boot kick, which rose up and cut through, leaving a visible opening that exposed the bare papier mache ass of Michelangelo’s David.
She stepped inside the Galleria dell'Academia, eyeing all of its recreations and reproductions. She reached into her canvas bag and pulled out an adjustable flame Bic lighter.
She looked like other girls, dressed conservatively and carrying her books as she we wandered the city. In her heart, she knew she was different. She alone had dreams of perfect freedom, spending a long life doing what no-one else could imagine. Breaking into jail seemed a good start.
go ahead an enter me twice there Indie. It's Blogger's will. he he he.
Elveshat, Cori, Doug! Thanks so much. These are so great, and it's fascinating to me to see what each of these pictures made someone think of! I'm surprised more people didn't think of an art museum when they saw this picture because that was a powerful association for me. Cori, you did think museum but worked it out to almost the exact opposite of my idea. That ending surprised me.
This was a great picture for stories. I also liked the mushroom's ideas and wanted to know more about the crazy world--"Much madness is divinest sense" and all that.
Indeterminacy, your story reminded me of a book I liked a lot when I was a kid, THE MIXED UP FILES OF MRS. BASIL E. FRANKWEILER.
Thank you, one and all. There's some saying or story about how in a mad world the sane people are kept locked away, and that's what I was making oblique reference to. But the examples were true; if we have several friends, their personalities interact to make for amazing moments - and my best friend in high school never could figure out why his mother would take the phone off the hook, and I was there when she said "if there's an emergency, they'll be able to get through." The art museum concept didn't come to me at all.
I did think of a museum but I thought I would be too influenced by Da Vincis Code if I wrote about it. And since I already stole the lost poets society last time, I prefered to avoid the same thing happen again! So a university seemed to be the ideal solution.
OH Indie! Your story was truely great as always!
Major computer/internet problems all weekend. Looks like we're back on track for the time being. Loved all the stories. I enjoy this very much!
Amazing, your story is. It seems you used one technique in two different points of view in a single context. Through personification, you embodied the aesthetic qualities you admire into the art objects and at the same time created an epitome of an art lover through the girl. It demonstrated loving and being loved simultaneously. I don't know if I said that very well. Great talent you have!
Wow! Is that what I did? I just write these so that they "feel right", match my sense of how writing should be, based probably on all the books I've consumed in the past. I think I am like these artists, not being aware of all the nuances that worked out. Thanks for those insightful comments.
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