Tuesday, August 02, 2005


"No! I can't let you through here," the shadow of a border agent shouted to the lady with the rouge scarf and dark tunic drawn around bare skin. Borders formed where the brushstrokes of the oil painting ended, scarlet barricades, flanked by shadowy guards one dared not defy. She ran the blind, panicked run known to recur in nightmares, deep into the sanguine darkness, weaving past shadows that felt like presences, but vanishing when touched. And stood again at a border. The same one or maybe a different place, as all were identical. "This border is closed!" the guard declared emotionlessly, twirling an extended umbrella. "The exit, I must find the exit," she told herself in desperation, and sensed that it was hidden in the center of the city, among the multitude of unlabeled buildings. She covered her eyes with one hand, extended the other before her, then bolted off in an unknown direction. Harsh whispers showered down upon her, growing louder the closer she came to the door, wanting to confuse and disorient her, to make her forget. They did not want her leaving. She dashed through unlighted streets, looking inwards to see, stumbling finally upon the hidden destination as the whispers reached a crescendo. With one last surge of adrenalin she leaped through the vacant door frame into the room with the red sofa and the painting she had poured hours of her fantasy and imagination into. She sloped onto the cushioned softness and closed her eyes in sleep. Refreshed by the transitory interlude of an instant, she sat up in wakefulness to a scene unchanged, swimming constant on the threshold between the real and the irreal. Still lingering in her memory was the nuanced knowledge of how to complete her masterpiece. Orange. More orange.

Story #259

9 comments:

none said...

beige... i think i'll paint the ceiling beige.

Jamie Dawn said...

I'd say she was painting with her heart & soul. She looks pretty satisfied with her work. I hope she decides against adding more orange. But, she can ruin it if she wants to. It's her painting.

The Mushroom said...

Jill's friends never knew quite which the case was -- her body and wardrobe matched her wall art, or her wall art matched her body and wardrobe. The livingroom was fairly scary in that respect, but her matching the bathroom was truly amazing.

The Mushroom said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
M.P. said...

I'm on vacation at last! Now I'll drop by more often!! Just to say hi! Tommorrow I'll comment your story!:)

Cooper said...

To me it looks like she is finished and quite satisfied or at least given in to the fact taht it's the best she can do.

Indeterminacy said...

Thanks for all the comments. I hope nobody was too disoriented by this story, as the context and motivation is somewhat ambiguous and open. Anyhow, I wanted to do something a little different than usual. Too much sex gets boring after a while ;-)

Jamie: I like the painting the way it is now, so maybe this is how it looks after she finshed it.

Mushroom: I know someone like that. She has her place decorated incolor codes.For awhile it was blue, then light green. And she alway dressed or made herself up to match it. Going there was kind of like walking into an Ikea catalogue.

M.P.: Have a great vacation and bring back some photos for me ;-)

Alice: That's what I think, too. Actually the ending came about by accident. I have my monitor at low brightness and contrast and everything in the photo looked red. When I looked closer I saw that it was orange. Rather than change the whole lead-up, I just tuned the ending. Is that cheating?

Everyone: My story will be late today. Look for it after you get home from work, something like 6 PM EST.

Indeterminacy said...

I'm blushing orange now.

The Mushroom said...

There's nothing wrong with life looking like an IKEA catalog. Unless we're talking the kids' room, then the world is garish orange and lime green. But the rest is pretty reasonable and usually white or birch.